Where We Ended

by Nora Flite

  “Dominic?”

  Shoving my phone in my pocket, I turn to find Kara standing behind me. The sun is high in the sky thanks to June's oppressive presence. It's why I moved to stand in the shade of the trees; it's the only spot where I can watch the men working on the cabin, while also preventing enough glare so I can browse on my phone.

  She rocks side to side, one hand tracing her opposite arm. “Can we talk?” she asks.

  I stand taller when I hear her question. I've been around her multiple times since she was reunited with her family. In spite of that, she's maintained the same aloof attitude in my presence. This is the first time she's cornered me alone since . . . well, since she warned me to keep away from Laiken. I cast a look at the men on the roof. They'll be fine without me watching to make sure they put all the solar panels in correctly. “Yeah, let's go for a walk.”

  Kara twirls away, marching toward the distant bridge. I expect her to stop there, but she walks down the sloping grass, bringing us to the river. Her hands are folded behind her back, her fingers rubbing together. “Did you know that when Laiken was five, she fell in the water here?”

  My lungs shrivel at the very mention of Laiken being in danger. The memory of performing CPR on her is still very fresh. “No. I didn't know that.”

  “She always wanted to do what I did. I wasn't much bigger than her, but I was just the right amount of taller that I could make the jumps between the rocks that she couldn't.” Kara looks down the river, her mouth fading to a thin frown. “She nearly died. She would have, if I wasn't there to pull her out.”

  “Thank you,” I say, meaning every word.

  She turns her head so she can consider me. “I should be thanking you. I lived the fear of losing my little sister. I swore I'd never let anything happen to her again, and then when the time came to stand up and keep my word, I broke down. I let her offer herself up to your family. I owe her an apology, and I owe you one, too.”

  She turns fully; I can tell it's a struggle for her to meet my eyes. “You don't,” I say quickly.

  “Of course I do. Dominic, the things I thought about you—the things I said about you! I was sure you were some kind of terrible sociopath. So set that I didn't take the time to look inside myself and ask why Bernard's death had to be your fault.”

  “Kara . . .”

  “Please, let me finish.” Her mouth is set in a determined line. But I can see tears welling over her blue irises, making the color darker. “Suicide. When Laiken told me, it made a terrible kind of sense. It was easier for me to imagine you shoving him over a cliff, than to think he'd rather die than live in a world where I existed.”

  “Kara, no. He loved you.”

  “I know he did.” The tears spill over; she sniffs. “That's what makes it hurt so much. I knew he loved me, and it still wasn't enough.”

  For a second she reminds me too much of Laiken. That's what makes me act, but once I grab her in a firm hug, it's our old friendship that keeps me holding her close. “You can't think like that.” A ripple of pain rocks my muscles, making me crush her harder. She gives a small sob. “I punished myself for years because I was sure of the same thing. That if I'd been a better friend, if he'd actually cared about me he wouldn't have killed himself. But it was never about that. He ended it because he thought we were all better off without him.”

  I know that feeling all too well.

  She's crying openly now, her forehead digging into my shirt. “I'm sorry,” she chokes out. “I'm just so sorry.”

  “Me too,” I reply seriously.

  The river rushes beside us, the gentle, constant roar of it mixing with Kara's cries. Eventually the river is louder. She trembles, sliding from my arms, wiping at her eyes as she gathers herself together. “Laiken is lucky,” she whispers. “She was always so certain that you were a good man. Even after I tried to prove otherwise, she just knew.”

  “I'm the lucky one.” Staring into her eyes, I let my voice drop into a solemn baritone. “If you hadn't been watching her back, it would never matter how much I wanted to keep her safe.” I scrub my hand over the back of my neck. “Honestly, even when I knew, I still did it wrong. I fucked up so many times.”

  Her chuckle is soft, but real. “If I can be forgiven for my fuckups, I'm sure you'll be okay.”

  Studying her half-smile, I let my own grow outwards. “I guess we'll see.”

  “We will,” she agrees, scanning the trees over my shoulder. “I really appreciate you helping fix this place up. I don't know if Mom and Dean will stay, I'm sure she wants him back in school. He’s not used to living out in the woods, you know?” She pauses, looking back my way. “Honestly, I'm not sure I am, either.”

  “You don't have to stay here. There's no obligation.”

  “I know.” She shuts her eyes then smiles at me so brightly I'm stunned. “I'm not used to having all these options. When we were young, Laiken and I knew only this life. Then we only knew how it was to live in captivity. Thing is, both of those left us secluded. I'm curious what else is out there.” Turning, she starts to wander down the river. “I've always wondered what Switzerland is like.”

  A sharp, sympathetic pain stabs me. “Kara, if you ever want to know where Bernard died—”

  “You'll tell me. I know.” With a faint smile still on her lips, she keeps walking away. “Thank you, Dominic. For everything.”

  Watching her go, I shield my eyes from the sun. I might be imagining it, but she looks like she's moving lighter. As if what we spoke about has eased her soul. I don't think I deserve any credit for that. I'm just relieved to think she'll be able to sleep easier, now that she's done blaming herself for Bernard's death.

  I'm envious. I'm not there, myself. Not entirely.

  Starting back towards the cabin, I lift my head and see Laiken approaching. I'm ready to defend myself—I don't want her thinking I was slacking off on the job—but then I see her and I just freeze. She's wearing a pair of torn jeans, her shirt loose so that the neck scoops low over her breasts. It's spotted with dirt and sweat and somehow, it makes her even sexier.

  Her eyes meet mine. “I wanted to see if you wanted some water. I was bringing bottles to the guys out front and—hey!” She doesn't finish her thought; she can't with my mouth sweeping across hers.

  Kissing Laiken is my favorite thing—well, next to holding her. I can never get enough of it. The sensation of her solid body curled against my chest is serene. I touch her constantly. I can't help myself. I wonder if I'll ever get used to the fact I can be with her wherever she is in the world.

  Keeping her upper arms wrapped in my large hands, I lean away and take a breath. I wish I didn't need oxygen. It's so damn inconvenient. Laiken's eyes sparkle warmly on me, her lips tempting me with their redness from our kiss. “Wow,” she whispers. She clears her throat. “What was that for?”

  I don't need a reason, but one slips out of me. “For being here.” I hesitate. “And for meeting the real me long before I even did.”

  Her airy buzz mellows as she studies me. “What?”

  The letter “f” in “forget it” is on my tongue. I shove it aside, linking her fingers in mine, holding her hands between us. “I never got a chance to apologize for pushing you away.”

  “Which time?” she asks, trying to lighten the mood.

  “All of them.”

  She squeezes my fingers. “Dominic, you don't have to be sorry for all of that. I know you were doing what you thought was right.”

  “That's just it, though,” I say, sweeping my eyes over her face, imploring her to understand a hint of my regret. “So many times I thought I was doing what was right for other people. For my parents . . . for Bernard.” I swallow loudly. “For you, too, Laiken. I was sure I was walking the right path. Then when that road became twisted and bleak, I convinced myself it was what I deserved. I was so set on being in control—making a place for myself in this world—that I let myself ignore the one right in front of me.”

  Laiken
forces her grip from mine causing pain to wrap around my heart, smothering it. Even a hint of her rejection can undo me. But she isn't rejecting me; she's letting go so she can press her palms to my cheeks, making me look into her crisp, winter-blue eyes. “Do you remember how we first met?”

  “Of course I do.”

  Her fingers spread, tracing my stubble. “Then you remember how things began for us. You started out protecting me. You didn't know me at all, you didn't have any idea what mattered to me.” I glance at her hair where it drifts loosely by her ears as she says that. “Even then, you stepped forward, going out of your way to keep me safe.”

  “Then I let you suffer for years at my parents' hands.” I clench my eyelids shut, scowling. “The night you tried to run, I should have let you. When I was sitting in my car, ready to drive to the Complex and see what was going on, I saw you before you saw me. I had a split second where I thought she's fast enough to make it to the gates and slip out.”

  Her lips press together before she speaks. “What made you stop me?”

  “The idea of letting you go.” My shoulders barely lift before they fall. “I convinced myself it was because I wanted to make my parents happy. The fact is that when I saw you for the first time in six years, every thrilling, joyous thing you made me feel as a kid came rushing back. I was instantly infected by you all over again. I caught you because I'm no protector, I'm just greedy.”

  Her fingernails cut into my jaw until I flinch. I focus on her narrowed eyes. “Dominic, I shouldn't have to tell you I love you, but I will. A million times, I'll tell you that my heart is fuller with you at my side. Stop beating yourself up over the past. If I'd run away that night, this thing we have - this wonderfully warm, beautiful thing - it would never have happened. I'd suffer a thousand different ways if it meant we ended like this.”

  I gape at her as I try to register her admission. She's doing that thing again—daring me with her hard-set mouth, her tight eyebrows, and her flashing pupils. Her honesty is insane, but it's crazier that I believe every word she says.

  “I love you, too,” I growl, hugging her to my body. “I love you so fucking much, Laiken. I'll never let you get away from me again. You're mine. Truly, forever and always mine.” She nearly vanishes in my thick arms. If I press hard enough, we might merge together for eternity. Become one big, throbbing experience bigger than any two people kept apart.

  When the embrace ends we're still two people. But that's fine.

  With her at my side, I finally know what it means to come home.

  THE END

  Thanks for reading!

  Want something darker but just as dirty? Read After Our Kiss

  Want something less dark but still plenty of heat and angst? Read Royally Ruined

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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  A USA Today Bestselling Author, Nora Flite lives in SoCal where the weather is warm and she doesn't have to shovel snow—something she never grew to love in her tiny home state of Rhode Island.

  All of her romances involve passionate, filthy, and slightly obsessive heroes—because those are clearly the best kind! She's always been a writer, and you'll probably have to pry her keyboard/pen/magical future writing device out of her cold, dead fingers before she'll stop.

  She loves when people say hello! If you see her in the wild, walk up and start chatting. Or hey, just email her— noraflite@gmail.com

  www.NoraFlite.com

  -Nora Flite