by Penelope Sky
I didn’t want to deny him what he wanted, so I closed up the house, turned off all the lights, and then got into bed beside him. It was so nice to sleep in a bed again, the bed I used to sleep in all the time. The mattress was exactly as I remembered it, the sheets so soft. My head fell onto the soft pillow, and I turned to him, the covers pulled to my shoulder.
He stayed on his back but turned his head my way, like lying on his side was too much for him because of the injuries to his abdomen. But he reached out his hand to me, his fingers resting on mine. Then he stared at me, gazed at me with heavy eyes, like he was fighting the pain medication to stay awake, to continue to look at me. “When I saw your face, I thought I was hallucinating…”
I’d thought I was hallucinating too.
“And when I heard your voice, I thought I’d already died and gone to heaven…which didn’t make sense because there’s no way I’d ever make it through the gates unless I broke in. But your voice…it could only belong to an angel.”
My fingers gave his a gentle squeeze.
“What changed your mind?”
There was nothing that changed my mind. Balto’s words hadn’t made me feel different. My father’s wisdom hadn’t either. “Seeing you like that…”
His eyes softened. “Yeah, I know the feeling.” His eyes closed and he sighed, but he forced them open again, like he was trying to stay awake.
“Babe, go to sleep.” The more rest he got, the better.
His eyes stayed closed his time, but his lips rose in a smile. “Babe…I like it when you call me that.”
I stood in the kitchen as I made lunch, making lasagna and a Caesar salad, busting out YouTube as I tried to learn how to cook. I couldn’t just keep making the same five recipes since he needed better nutrition right now.
The downstairs doors opened and closed, and then Balto came up the stairs a moment later. “Something smells good.”
“Lasagna. Want to stay for dinner?”
“No. My wife cooks.”
I thought it was cute he referred to Cassini as his wife, even though I’d already met her and knew her by name.
I opened the oven door and pulled out the pan before I set it on the stove.
“How is he?”
“Better.”
He stopped at the kitchen counter and looked into the living room, where the TV was on for background noise.
“The past week was rough for him, just like you said it would be. But lately, he’s been making jokes, smiling, being himself. It’s really nice to see.” I stopped at the stove, staring at the lasagna as I felt the emotion catch in my throat.
Balto turned his stare on me. “You saved him, Catalina. You could have walked out of there or pulled the trigger yourself—but you didn’t.”
“I know, but still…”
“Heath doesn’t hold it against you…and I don’t either.”
“Really?” I whispered. “I expected you to hate me…” I pulled the foil off the top of the pan so the steam would rise from the melted cheese.
“No. You were there when it mattered.”
I still couldn’t look at him, too emotional to meet the gaze of someone I loved. Balto was the image of Heath when he was healthy, so it was hard to look at him, to see how Heath should look right now.
Balto came to my side and placed his hand on my shoulder, giving me an affectionate squeeze, a gentle embrace. Then he released me and turned away.
Heath came down the hallway, walking slower than usual, in his sweatpants and a t-shirt, wearing clothes to hide his injuries from me. “I thought I heard an asshole in my house.”
Balto turned around and faced his brother. “You must be feeling better.”
He took his time walking to the kitchen, his eyes on me instead of his brother. But when he came close to Balto, he directed his gaze to him.
I turned away because it was the first time I’d seen him get out of the bed and move freely, able to carry himself without being crippled by pain. I stared at the lasagna, slicing it into squares just so I had something to do to keep my face straight.
“Thanks for everything, especially the drugs. That shit does wonders.”
“Yeah, I’ve been there.” His brother clapped him on the back lightly. “I’m glad to see you on your feet again…even though your face still looks like an inflated balloon. I’m surprised Catalina has stuck around when you aren’t so pretty anymore.”
“That was never why she stuck around.” He waggled his eyebrows before he walked over to me. “What’s for dinner, baby?” He was right beside me, so he could easily see what I made, but he seemed to talk to me on purpose, to get my mind out of the dark place it’d fallen.
“Lasagna.”
His arm moved around my waist, and he pressed a kiss to my temple. “Smells good.” He turned to his brother. “You want to stay for dinner? There’s just enough for the three of us.”
“Just enough?” I asked incredulously.
“You forget how much grown men eat.” Heath grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the refrigerator.
“Cassini already has dinner in the oven. I just came by to drop off a few things.” Balto leaned against the counter and stared at his brother.
Heath turned around, mimicking his posture against the other counter.
Did they want to talk in private?
Balto crossed his arms over his chest. “Everything at the Underground is fine.”
“You fooled them?” He drank from his glass, only drinking water because his usual booze was off-limits.
Balto nodded.
“Wow. I’m not sure if that’s complimentary or insulting…”
“How do they not spot the difference?” I shoveled the food onto plates then added the salad. “Balto doesn’t have tattoos.”
“I only wear long sleeves,” Balto answered. “Good thing it’s cold outside.”
“I think I’ll be ready to get back in a couple weeks,” Heath said. “I just—”
“A couple weeks?” I asked incredulously. “Try a couple months.” I carried the plates to the table. “And sit down.” I pulled out the chair. “You shouldn’t be standing so much. You should only be resting.”
Heath turned back to his brother. “Bossy, huh?”
“Cassini is bossy too.”
“I guess we have the same type.” He held up his glass before he walked to the chair and lowered himself onto the cushion.
“I can handle things for as long as you need.” Balto came to his chair and placed his hand on his shoulder. “No rush.”
Heath shook his head. “I know you hate every second of it. Cassini too.”
Balto dropped his hand. “Yes. But it’s temporary. And it’s for you.” He looked at me and nodded in goodbye before he left.
I sat across from Heath at the table. It was the first time we’d sat together for a meal since he’d been hurt because he’d had all his meals in bed.
With his elbows on the table, he got right down to business, slicing into the pasta and shoveling it into his mouth. “Damn, this is good.”
I watched him eat, taking few bites because I wasn’t very hungry. Our relationship felt the way it used to, like I hadn’t done something terrible to him, and that left me on edge…because I didn’t deserve this.
He lifted his gaze and looked at me, his cheeks still bruised, his eye sockets still purple. He had a couple cuts around his mouth, cuts from my brother’s knuckles. The stubble on his jawline wasn’t thick enough to hide the damage. “What is it, baby?”
I shifted the lettuce around on the plate. “I just… I don’t know. Everything feels the same, when it should feel different.”
“Nothing has changed. Nothing changed for me, even when we were apart.” He started to eat again. “And in case you were wondering, I wasn’t with anyone during those weeks.” He looked at his food as he scooped bites into his mouth.
I’d never thought about it. “Me neither.”
He
closed his eyes for a second, releasing a deep sigh that he couldn’t control. Then he continued to devour his meal.
I’d never wondered if he was with anyone or not. I was just so numb from everything that I didn’t think about him at all. But that haze had been broken when I saw him on the ground, practically dead.
“I don’t blame you for anything.” His voice turned quiet, no longer playful like it’d been when his brother was there.
“How can you not?” I whispered. “I set you up. Damien told me what he was going to do. It’s not like I didn’t know.”
He dropped his fork and stared at me, his eyes turning serious. “Do you want me to be angry with you?”
“No. I just…feel terrible.”
“The way I see it, you felt betrayed by what I did—and I did do it. It wasn’t a victimless crime. I deserved everything that happened to me in that cell—”
“Don’t say that ever again.”
He closed his mouth, turning quiet.
“You didn’t deserve that. Absolutely not.” Tears welled in my eyes at the memory.
“It’s in the past—”
“You’re still all cut up and scarred…it’s not in the past.” Fresh tears fell down my cheeks.
He watched me for a long time, his eyes mirroring my emotion. “Well, I forgive you.”
I looked at down at the table, wiping away my tears.
“Now…do you forgive me?”
I sniffled before I looked up, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.
“Do you forgive me for what I did?” he whispered. “Because if you do, I think we can move on from this…together.”
I knew what he did to my father was wrong. What he did to Damien and Anna was wrong. But now that I loved him, and the love was undeniable, I couldn’t stay angry about it. I couldn’t live in the past. I wanted this man…regardless. “Yes. I forgive you.”
I lay beside him in bed, keeping space between us because he was still too injured to touch. The bruises on his face had started to fade to his normal color, the reduced swelling making his face less puffy. The discoloration around his eyes was the quickest to disappear. But he was still in bad shape.
My phone started to vibrate on the nightstand as someone called me.
I knew who it was without checking.
I reached behind me, grabbed the phone, and pressed the buttons on the side to turn it on silent without even looking. Then I dropped it back onto the wooden nightstand, the loud thump filling the bedroom.
He continued to watch me, his head slightly tilted my way. “Baby, you can’t ignore him forever.”
“Ignore who?” I asked, surprised he’d figured it out so easily.
“You know who.”
I dropped my gaze.
“It’s been a few weeks. Enough time for both of you to cool off.”
“How do you know it’s him?” I asked, changing the subject.
He held my gaze without blinking. “Just a hunch.”
I pulled the sheet higher over my shoulder.
“Come on, you aren’t scared of anything. And I promise you, he’s nothing to be scared of.”
I knew I had to talk to him, to have the conversation that could go in any direction. Maybe he would apologize. Or maybe he might tell me how disappointed he was. In any case, Heath was right. I had to face him…eventually.
I grabbed the phone and opened his message box.
He’d texted me a lot over the last few days.
You can’t ignore me forever.
Cat, come on.
Pick up the goddamn phone.
I finally texted back. I’ll come by your place tomorrow night. We can talk then.
Damien didn’t text back, but I knew he got the message.
I didn’t stop to say hello to my father and went straight to Damien’s bedroom.
I knocked on the door, but there was no response.
I opened the door and saw him sitting there, dressed in jeans and a shirt because he’d been expecting me. He looked out the window, his arms on the armrests, a slight scowl on his face like he dreaded this conversation as much as I did.
Anna was there, and when she saw me step inside, she excused herself. “I’m going to play chess with your father.” She moved past me, placing her hand on my shoulder as she went, as if she were wishing me luck.
Oh, I needed all the luck I could get.
I moved to the table and lowered myself into the chair.
He still didn’t look at me, as if it was too painful to see my face.
I sat still, my heart racing a million miles a minute. My brother was someone I was always innately comfortable around, but now he felt like an enemy, felt like someone who made my hair stand on end—and not in a good way. I looked out the window for a few minutes too, just to get acclimated to the hostility before I started to speak.
I turned to him, seeing the side of his face, his hard jawline. He didn’t offer me a drink. He didn’t even offer me his gaze.
This conversation was going to suuuuck.
He finally turned to me, looking at me with such rage he could barely keep it inside.
I took a deep breath, hating that look.
“You haven’t been home in a while. I can only assume that means one thing…”
My eyes narrowed. “He could barely walk, Damien. Yes, I’ve been home with him, taking care of him, because he looked like you used him as a fucking punching bag.”
“Which he deserved…unless you’re going to rewrite history.”
I shook my head. “How can you have so much hatred inside that heart?”
“It’s pretty easy,” he said unapologetically. “When a man tries to kill my father, takes my future wife, lies to my sister…it comes pretty naturally. How can you have so much stupidity in your heart?”
I brushed off the insult even though it was difficult. “Damien, I love him.” I said the words out loud, feeling the same pain I felt the first time I admitted it. “There’s nothing I can do about that. I can’t just turn it off. Trust me, I’ve tried. I need you to let this go. I need you to settle this feud once and for all.”
He clenched his jaw like I’d just asked for a kidney.
“Not for him. But for me.” I placed my hand over my heart. “You beat him to within an inch of his life. He’s been punished enough. You have no idea how weak he is.”
“He’s not weak enough if he’s not in the grave.”
I dropped my hand back to the table. “Damien.”
He looked out the window again.
“Look at me,” I said gently, needing my brother to be himself, not this violent dictator.
He resisted for a while, like he needed a few seconds to calm himself before he turned back to me.
“I’m your sister, and I love you. I love you so much.”
He sighed quietly.
“I wouldn’t ask you to do this for me unless it was important to me. I never ask you for anything, Damien. You offered to buy me a house, and I said no. My love for him doesn’t change my loyalty to you or Dad. I need you to drop this vendetta forever…for me.”
He bowed his head, rubbing his temple like he had a migraine.
“Please…”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds.
“Heath would never hurt you, as he’s proven. So, it’s not even a fair fight. It’s just murder.”
He lifted his chin and looked at me.
“For me. Do this for me.” I would get on my knees and beg if I had to. I didn’t want Heath to ever be in pain again, to ever have to deal with my brother’s wrath when he couldn’t defend himself. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I know how much you love me too.”
He raised his hand slightly to quiet me, and then he dropped it again. “Alright.”
I couldn’t believe he said yes. “Oh my god… Thank you.” Tears welled in my eyes because I’d finally fixed everything. It would take time for us to move on from this, probably years, but it was a start. We had peace. Finall
y.
He crossed his arms over his chest as he slouched against the chair. “I won’t come after him. I won’t hurt him. I won’t do anything to him.”
Music to my ears.
“But I want nothing to do with him.”
“Heath isn’t gonna make you start paying—”
“Not what I meant,” he said coldly. “You asked me to drop my vendetta. Fine. But don’t expect me to like him. Don’t expect me to approve of him for you. Because I don’t. And Dad won’t either.”
“He has more of an open mind than you do—”
“Yes. He wouldn’t want to kill anyone. He probably wouldn’t execute Heath, despite what he did. But that doesn’t mean he would want his only daughter to be with the guy who’s responsible for so much turmoil in this family. You think he’d want his daughter to be with the fucking Skull King?” he asked incredulously. “You’re living in an alternate reality if you think that’s going to happen, Catalina.”
All the joy left my body as my gaze dropped.
“I’m never going to shake his hand. I’ll never ask about him. When we’re together, I don’t want you even mentioning him. You can take away my vendetta, but you can never change the way I feel about him. Now, if you love me—” he pointed to his chest “—you won’t be with someone I have this much of a problem with, someone who’s hurt me.”
I closed my eyes, pained.
“How do you really see this working?” he asked. “You’re gonna have a life with him? Completely separate for your family? Do you expect him to ask Dad’s permission to marry you? And do you expect Dad to give you the answer you want to hear?”
New tears emerged, but for a different reason.
“You deserve better than him. So much better.”
“So…you’re just going to ostracize me from the family? I have to choose—him or my family?”
He was quiet for a long time, staring at me with a cold gaze. “I would never cut you out of my life—for any reason. You’re my sister. But he’ll never be welcome at Christmas, dinners, birthday parties. If you have kids with him, I’ll spend time with them because they’re my nieces and nephews, but I’ll never spend time with their father. And you can’t change the way I feel about that, Catalina.”