by Hope Anika
“Punishing yourself doesn’t change anything,” she told him. “It only makes you weak.”
Against her, he flinched.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“No,” he said and shook his head, and his bristled cheek stroked her again. “I know I can count on you for the truth.” He pulled back, and his hazel gaze captured hers with a seriousness that made her heart suddenly flutter painfully. “I love you, Isabel.”
She went still, her fingers digging into him.
“You don’t have to say it back,” he said quietly. “I just wanted you to know.”
The sudden, overwhelming swell of emotion that filled her throat startled her and made it impossible to speak, and she could only stare at him, stunned.
Love.
How long had it been since she loved someone? Since someone loved her?
A lifetime. Would she even know it if she felt it?
“It’s okay,” Tony said, and the arms around her tightened. “Don’t panic on me. No pressure, honey. But I’m not a man to pretend. I love you. I want your babies.”
Babies.
Oh, God. Blood rushed to her head. Her heart pounded like an obnoxious dance song. She felt faint.
“You should see the look on your face,” he murmured. “Priceless.”
“Babies,” she gasped, unable to say anything else.
“When we’re ready.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat, his tongue flickering against her. Heat immediately flooded her joints, and deep inside, she went soft and damp, and the ache that had plagued her since she’d laid eyes on the man throbbed in hungry demand.
A demand she was going to surrender to, no matter how much of a lunatic he was.
Babies. God help her.
“We’ve got a lot of bad guys to catch first,” Tony continued and nipped at her, and Isabel squirmed on his lap, trying to get closer. “Gotta make the world safer. Then we can fill it with our rugrats.”
He was a lunatic.
But as his arms pulled her closer and his mouth took hers, Isabel wasn’t arguing.
“Zander!”
Alexander looked up from his notebook to see Ben running toward him, Daisy at his heels. His brother was grinning from ear to ear, and for a moment Alexander just watched him.
What would it be like to be that happy?
“Sam said we’re gonna go get a swing set!” Ben careened to a halt in front of Alexander and did a little dance. “A swing set!! With a slide. Holy cow, holy cow, holy cow, Zander!” Another little dance. “Our very own swing set!”
“Cool,” Alexander said, even though he could have cared less about a swing set.
“You wanna come with us?” Ben asked, clapping his hands.
Alexander shrugged. “Nah.”
Ben sobered and sat down on the log Alexander occupied. It sat in the middle of Sam’s lush green back yard, next to a deep fire pit. A creek wound through the far end of the property, along a line of tall pines, and in the distance, a massive, snow-capped mountain stood like a sentry. Washed in sunshine and filled with tiny, colorful birds, it was a beautiful, peaceful place. Alexander liked it. He liked Sam’s big log cabin, too. It was simple and sparse, with just enough room. Charcoal drawings and long, slender fishing poles decorated the walls.
Those are fly fishing poles. We’ll get you a shorter one. You can give it a try and see if you like it.
He would’ve never imagined getting excited about fishing. But he knew it wasn’t the fishing; it was Sam. Sam, who was…his friend. Who wanted to spend time with him. And whose words continue to gnaw at him.
What you do from here is up to you—no one else. And it can’t matter, what other people know or say or do. Only what you do.
“I like it here,” Ben said. “Do you like it here?”
Alexander looked at him. “Yes.”
“Can we…can we stay here?”
The worry Alexander saw in his brother made the fury that never left him stir. “Yes.”
“He’s not gonna come?”
Alexander shook his head. “No. He’s pretty much dead.”
“I’m glad,” Ben said softly.
“Me, too.”
“Are you…is it gonna be okay now?”
Alexander felt his stomach burn. “Yes,” he said and hoped it wasn’t a lie.
“Is Lucia gonna stay, too?”
“I don’t know.”
Ben’s lip quivered. “I want her to stay.”
“Me, too.”
They sat in silence for a long moment.
“Can I…can I call Sam dad?” Ben asked quietly, shooting him an uncertain look.
The idea of that struck Alexander like a physical blow, and he stared at his brother. “I don’t know.”
“I’m gonna ask.”
Dad. Alexander didn’t think that word had ever left his lips. He couldn’t even imagine saying it. But for Ben it could mean something. For Ben…this could be a whole new beginning.
For us both.
He jerked at that thought. Somewhere between yesterday and today, hope had taken root, and a new, optimistic voice had been born within him. He wasn’t certain he liked it.
What if it was wrong?
But then he remembered following Lucia out of his father’s cold, ugly house, ducking to get past Ivan, his heart beating with sickening force, certain their escape was a mistake. Everything that had urged him to turn back—to give up—had been wrong. And he’d almost listened. If he had—
Nothing would have changed.
He’d made the decision to go with Lucia. He had done that. So why couldn’t this new life be a beginning? Why couldn’t he decide to shed the old and leave it behind like a skin that no longer fit?
It was a wonderful, grand idea. But inside him, a hard, cold lump sat heavy and still, a shadow so dark he didn’t think the small seed of hope within him would be able to grow.
“I love you, Zander,” Ben said, watching him, and Alexander’s heart squeezed, because Ben understood. Even though he was just a little kid, Ben got it.
And loved him anyway.
“I love you, too, Benny,” he said, and when Ben opened his arms, Alexander hugged him hard.
“Last call for the swing set store.” Sam’s voice carried toward them, and Alexander turned to see him striding toward them. Behind him, Lucia stood on the broad wooden porch that encircled the cabin, a steaming coffee mug in hand.
She was smiling.
Alexander really hoped she stayed.
“I’m coming!” Ben cried excitedly and leapt to his feet. Daisy barked, her tail slapping Alexander’s leg, and he leaned down to give her a pat. “Don’t go without me!”
Sam halted before them. “I would never.” His gaze landed on Alexander. “Everything okay?”
Alexander nodded. Sam frowned a little, but then Ben flung his arms around Sam’s legs and said, “I’m ready!”
“You are, are you?” Sam lifted Ben up and slung him over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, and Ben squealed in delight. “How about you, Zander? Are you ready?”
Zander. A name only Ben had ever called him. A name that fit him far better than the one he’d been born to. Such a simple, significant thing. Maybe before he’d been Alexander, but now…now he could be Zander.
If he wanted.
He looked over at Lucia. “No,” he said. “I’ll stay.”
Sam nodded. Ben clapped again.
“Alright,” Sam said. “We’ll be back. C’mon, Daisy dog.”
And then he turned and walked back toward the cabin, and Daisy bounced along beside him. Ben waved at Alexander, his smile so sunny it almost hurt to look at. On the porch, Sam halted for a minute to kiss Lucia, and Ben giggled and made kissy faces, and Alexander felt a wedge of something unfamiliar catch in his throat.
Laughter.
It made the hope within him flutter desperately.
After they’d gone, he closed his notebook and walked ov
er to halt at the base of the wide steps that led up to the porch. He made himself look at Lucia and ask, “Are you going to stay?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. She motioned him closer, toward the wooden porch swing that hung from the overhang. “Come sit by me, mijo.”
He didn’t want to, especially if she wasn’t going to stay. Because that felt like betrayal, and Alexander didn’t think he could handle that on top of everything else. But she only watched him and waited, and after a moment, he gave in and moved to sit beside her.
Her bruises had turned a mottled blue-green, and the mark on her neck had a thick scab on it, and he knew she’d already paid too high a price in helping him. It wasn’t fair to expect more. He knew that. But he did.
“I want you to stay,” he heard himself say.
“I have not made any decisions,” she said. “But no matter what I do, I will always—always—be part of your life. Alexander—.”
“Zander,” he corrected and felt heat curl into his cheeks.
She tilted her head in question.
“I want to start over,” he said. “Be someone new.”
Her lashes flickered. “Someone different?”
“The same but different,” he said and shrugged feebly.
He couldn’t explain it.
“I see,” Lucia said. “Are you happy that Sam is your guardian?”
“Yes,” he said, because it was true. “I want you to be our guardian, too.”
“I do not know if that is possible,” she told him. “But I will find out.”
Sam’s words whispered through him. She’s going to take some convincing. I might need your help.
“He wants to keep you,” Alexander said.
Her cheeks turned pink. “Yes.”
“Don’t you want to stay?”
She only stared at him, silent. Then, “Everything has happened very quickly, mijo, and I…I want to be sure.”
“I like him,” Alexander admitted. “He’s…good.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “He is.”
“You could do worse,” Alexander told her, and a surprised laugh broke from her.
“Yes,” she said again and sobered. “No matter what, I will be here for you. I promise.”
It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was more than he had the right to expect, so he only nodded. “Did you…did you see the rest of it?”
“The rest of what?”
The dense, chilling cold within him grew heavier. “The video.”
“No,” she said softly.
“Are you going to?”
“No.”
“It’s out there forever,” he said, the horror of that realization still fresh. Sometimes—for a minute—he would forget, and then he would remember, and it was like being crushed in an iron fist.
“Yes,” Lucia acknowledged. “I am sorry.”
“I didn’t know he was doing that. Filming us.” Alexander hadn’t thought he could hate his father any more than he already did.
He’d been wrong.
“The people who found it…they were trying to help,” Lucia replied slowly. “It was not about hurting you. It was about exposing him. Stopping him.”
I don’t care. The rage flared, and when it met the cold, stone thing within him, seemed to crackle and splinter out, and the feeling he’d had after first seeing the video—the storm that had pressed against his skin like an overwhelming tide—returned.
“You were not the only one,” she said quietly.
Alexander met her dark amber gaze, his heart suddenly beating furiously. “What?”
“There were other videos,” Lucia told him. “Other children.”
Alexander stared at her, and a loud, deafening roar filled his ears. “Others?”
“Boys and girls.”
For a moment, he couldn’t catch his breath. His lungs went tight, his vision blurred, and his heart beat so hard, it hurt. Something within him snapped, like a dry twig beneath a booted foot, and he jerked physically in response. Tears filled his throat and pressed against his chest; his eyes burned.
“You were not alone,” she whispered, and a horrible, broken sound escaped him, one he couldn’t stop. She reached for him, and he reared back, but Lucia only dragged him into her lap, and wrapped her arms tightly around him, even as he fought. “You were not the only one, mijo.”
A cry of fury choked him; he pushed against her, but she held firm, and another crack echoed within him, loud, like a gunshot. The wall that stood between him and the world—the one he’d built brick by painful brick—shuddered in effort to stand, and he did everything he could to push it all away, back into that place where it lived—where he could live with it—but he could see their faces—those boys and girls—and he could feel their rage and pain and hate.
He could hear their screams.
All of the sacrifices he’d made—to make sure he was the only one, to protect Ben—were worthless. It hadn’t mattered.
Not any of it.
He jerked again, and the wall crumbled, and a sharp, piercing cry tore into the air. Huge, gulping sobs shook his shoulders, so violent and deep his cells vibrated, and he couldn’t stop, couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Tears slid down his cheeks, and jagged, ugly sounds worked in his throat, and he shook like a brittle leaf in a strong wind.
Lucia’s arms tightened; she cradled him like a child. “I am sorry,” she said into his ear and rocked him, which only made him cry harder. “It will be okay, mijo. You will heal. I promise you will. It just takes time.”
Alexander didn’t know how long he cried. Every time the eruption slowed, more pain rose and shot forth like a geyser, scalding and unstoppable. When it was over, he lay still in Lucia’s arms, shuddering in effort to breath, his nose running, his head throbbing. He felt…lighter, somehow, and…tired. So tired. That hard, cold stone still sat within him, but the wrenching pain was gone. And the hope…it was waking and stretching and filling the space where only fury had existed. He was still mad, but…
It was bearable.
“You are very important,” Lucia murmured, and Alexander blinked up at her and realized she was crying, too, tears sliding down her chin in wet streaks. “I know you do not believe it, but it is true. You are important to me, to Benjamin. To Sam. So very, very important; I wish I could make you understand. And now, now you are free. You can be anything, mijo. Do anything. There are no limits any longer.”
“It hurts,” he rasped, unable to summon the cold, disaffected mask he’d worn for so long.
“Sí,” Lucia said. “It always will. But it does not have to decide for you. Not anymore. Now, you decide.”
Alexander stared up at her, and the naked love he saw made another wave of emotion tighten his throat.
“I love you,” he whispered.
She squeezed him, hard. “I know.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Boy snores filled the house.
Ben sprawled across his bed, arms flung out as though he dreamed of flight. Beside him, Daisy lay on her back, legs in the air, paws quivering as tiny growls murmured from her. In the other bed, Alexander was out cold, deep, heavy breaths rumbling from him, and between the three of them, it sounded like a pack of wild boars had invaded the cabin and were running amok.
Lucia pulled the bedroom door shut and made her way down to the kitchen. Sam’s cabin was simple and solid, and clearly a single man’s domain. They’d arrived the night before in the wee hours, and she hadn’t looked around much before falling into bed fully clothed and surrendering to sleep, but today she’d spent much of the day exploring it. She’d found no earthshattering revelations; if anything, it only confirmed what she already knew: with Sam, what you saw was what you got.
There was no clutter, no bric-a-brac, no frilly curtains or colorful throw pillows. A few pictures—Sam and Tony outfitted in fatigues, surrounded by sand, their faces serious, their weapons ready; a teenaged Sam and an older man who squinted into the sun and wore a ba
ttered gray Stetson. Magnus, she thought, and silently thanked the man for all he’d done.
Fishing poles decorated the walls. The furniture was all lodge pole pine, rough-hewn and solid. There was nothing to soften the blunt lines, but she was comfortable with that. It was warm and welcoming and safe.
A blessed relief from the past few days.
She pulled a beer from the refrigerator and made her way out into the back yard, where Sam was tightening the numerous bolts that held together the swing set he’d bought. It was dark, so he was using a flashlight, and she halted on the porch, watching the ray of light cut through the darkness as he moved from one to the next.
He’s…good.
Yes. He was. A fine man, one whom she’d done nothing to deserve, and for whom she was infinitely grateful.
I want to keep you.
The memory of those words—but more, the look on his face when he’d said them, those brilliant eyes of his steady and serious and unflinching—made her shiver. She’d tried hard not to think about them, because they had far too much influence, and there were things they needed to discuss.
So she went down the steps and crossed the thick grass to where he stood, crescent wrench in hand. When he looked up from his task, she smiled and held out the beer.
He stared at it for a moment.
“What?” she asked. Did he not like beer? He’d brought it home—
“Fuck,” he said and dropped to one knee before her. “You’re perfect. Marry me.”
Lucia stared at him, her mouth hanging open, her heart fluttering painfully. “You—I—you cannot be serious.”
“As a heart attack,” he said solemnly. Moonlight washed over him, silvering his hair, making his eyes glint like polished stones. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “This was all I could get on short notice. Ben said grape was best.”
Lucia stared down at the object he held: a ring pop. The giant candy gem gleamed in the moonlight like dark amethyst, and for a moment all she could do was blink stupidly at it.
“Take a chance,” Sam whispered, “and build a life with me.”
An immense, overwhelming swell of emotion surged through her, and she wanted badly to shove that ring onto her finger and wrap herself around him.