He sighed and moved over to the mantel, bracing his hand on the brick. After a moment, he dropped his head, and the low rumble of the beginnings of what would be the most heartbreaking story I’d ever heard in my life filled my ears. “As I said, I don’t remember much of my time in Devil’s Den. While tracking you, I ran into some trouble. When you do what I do, you make enemies. Comes with the job. I knew that when Hayes offered me a position with Red Snake over a decade ago.” There was a long pause. “I went into Devil’s Den nearly a week after losing you, and I woke up in the hospital two months later.”
A sharp gasp left me, and I slapped my hand over my mouth to stifle the cry climbing up my throat.
“I was in and out of it for a long time,” he murmured, his voice distant. “The guys told me I coded twice. I don’t remember much, and what I do isn’t anything to say out loud.”
“Please,” I begged, my voice weak as tears blurred my vision. “Tell me everything you remember. Please, please.”
His neck straightened, and I could feel his eyes on me. “Don’t want you hearing this,” he clipped.
“I have to!” I shot back, standing, fists hanging at my sides. “I have to hear this!”
“Why?” he challenged, stepping forward. “Why do you need to hear about the pain I went through?”
My next words, delivered on a harsh, relentless scream, echoed through the house, bounced off the walls, shaking the very foundation of the life I’d worked so hard to build here. “Because it’s all my fucking fault!”
“Angel—”
“No!” I cried, my tears spilling over as I pointed at him. The more words that fell out of my mouth, the closer he got to me. “If I hadn’t gone to that stupid conference in hopes of finding a damn job. If I hadn’t gone out with my coworkers after eight hours of trying to convince head chefs to give me a chance to blow off steam, then I wouldn’t have met Benson at that bar. I wouldn’t have drunk three apple martinis. I wouldn’t have fallen for his charm and his smooth words. I wouldn’t have agreed to leave with him on the notion that I was going to receive some form of human affection after months of not being touched. I wouldn’t have—”
His hands were on either side of my head in an instant, holding me steady in the storm. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for what that bastard did to you. You were the victim, Angel. You did nothing wrong.”
“No, I did. I was stupid and trusted a man I shouldn’t have.” I tried to jerk out of his hold, but he backed me up, not stopping until I was back on the love seat and he was looming over me.
“You were not stupid,” he growled.
“I saw the scar on your back.” I blinked away the tears, but more took their place. “You were shot because of me. You were left because of me. You went into that damn devil’s hole because of me. You almost died because of me—”
He dropped to his knees, bringing our foreheads together. “And I’d do it a thousand times over for you. In a fucking heartbeat.”
I brought my hands to his face, sobbing. “I don’t understand. I’m just a—”
His guttural voice cut me off swiftly, his words lingering in the air, begging for me to accept them. “You’re my soulmate.”
When I didn’t say anything—I couldn’t—he inhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “I know, I know,” he cooed.“I know it’s fucking crazy, but…the second my eyes locked on yours, something shifted inside me. From the moment I saw your golden eyes, I just…fuck.” He squeezed his eyes shut.
Soulmate.
A word used only in fairy tales or epic romance books that leave you staring at your ceiling at three in the morning, wondering if you’ll ever get to feel that kind of love, wondering if it’s even real.
And yet?
There is a man on his knees before me, telling me that I’m his.
The craziest part?
After everything we’d been through, together and apart, I had no choice but to believe him. My heart wouldn’t allow me to brush this off, comfortable underneath the weight of his staggered words.
“Ash,” I whispered, not for him, but for me. I needed to taste his name on my tongue, memorize its sound, the way it made me feel. My body was at peace and my mind was clear, silent and peaceful for the first time tonight. Everything around us was still, as if the house I’d turned into a home was waiting, holding its breath until I accepted this. Him. “Look at me.”
Once again, I was drawn to his dark, warm pools. Even in the darkness, something glimmered deep within them, calling my name, beckoning me. “This is too much,” he admitted. I could feel his shame in the breath of space between us.
“No,” I murmured. “This isn’t too much. Not after everything we’ve been through.”
He swallowed. “What made you come here? To Astoria?”
“When Agent Masters told me I could move back to the States, I didn’t want to be anywhere near the East Coast. Too many memories, both good and bad. If I did, I would’ve been tempted to contact my parents, which up until three hours ago, I wasn’t allowed to do,” I explained, brushing his scuff-coveredcheek with my thumb. “I got out a map, taped it to the wall, and stepped back.” I pulled away, taking in the look on his face, noting the deep etch between his brows, the slight frown of his mouth, the tightness in his jaw. My eyes lingered on his lips as I said, “Immediately, my eyes landed on the edge of Oregon.” Our gazes connected again. “Something drew me to this place, and when I saw you sitting at the espresso counter in Rossy’s Books, it clicked. I was just too afraid back then to admit it.” A single tear fell onto my cheek, warm and damning, but he swiped it away.
He said nothing, and the guilt at the bottom of my gut rose a little higher.
