Page 262 of Vicious Temptation

I nod. “That’s the one. I used to stare at it, wondering how she ever survived somewhere so peaceful. When I was younger, the thought of living that far from everything sounded like torture.”

“And now?”

I smile as my finger traces one of the ink lines across his chest.

“Now I understand it a little better. I could have acres of green around me, horses outside my window, and mornings when there’s nowhere I need to be.” I glance up at him. “I could watch the sun rise without hearing sirens in the distance and go to bed without wondering who might come looking for us next.”

“Sounds like a dream.”

“It is.” My smile fades. “That’s the problem.”

“Why?”

“Because people like me don’t get to decide one day that we’re finished and walk away. My parents tried. My aunts and uncles tried. They built normal lives and raised us, but none of it erased what came before.” I trace another line. “Eventually, some part of it always finds its way back.”

Thiago takes my hand and interlaces our fingers. “That doesn’t mean you have to spend the rest of your life paying for it.”

“I’ve done plenty of my own.”

“But you’re not only defined by the things you’ve done, Remi. You shouldn’t have to spend your entire life carrying the weight of choices other people made before you were even old enough to understand them.”

“That sounds like something people tell themselves to sleep better at night.”

“Maybe.” He kisses the back of my hand. “Or maybe it’s something you’ve never allowed yourself to believe in.”

I look at him for a moment. “The world is still what it is, whether I believe it or not. Wanting something doesn’t make it possible.”

“And what do you want, Remi?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Thiago waits.

“Tell me.”

I’ve imagined it before, usually in pieces I never let myself put together because wanting a life I might never have seemed pointless.

“I want a family of my own someday.”

His expression softens. “A family?”

“Yeah.” I look down at our joined hands until they blur through my tears. “I want kids who don’t know any of this and never have to. I don’t want them growing up knowing there are people who might come after them because of something their parents or grandparents did before they were born.” I look at him again. “I want them to believe the world is good, Thiago. I want them to be good.”

“They would.”

“You say that like you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“But how can you possibly know?”

He tips my chin up toward him and wipes a tear from my cheek. “Because they’d have you.”

I’m completely unprepared for how much I needed to hear that.

All my life, I’ve thought about the things my family passed down to us. Their enemies, their mistakes, their instincts. Every skill they taught us because they knew their past might one day become our problem. So I’ve never spent much time thinking about what I could pass down that was good.

I lay my head on his chest again as his arms close around me.

Maybe he’s right.