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“You weren’t home,” I said, feeling guilty but not sure why.
“You shouldn’t come out here on your own. It’ll be dark soon.”
“You just disappear and expect me to sit around and wait for you?”
Raphael ignored my comment but didn’t deny it. He turned his attention to Damon and cocked his head to the side. “What were you telling her?”
“He wasn’t telling me anything,” I folded my arms across my chest. “You disappeared,” I repeated.
Again, he didn’t look at me. This was between the brothers.
“I always come to the chapel, you know that. I just happened to run into Sofia this time,” Damon said.
“What do you expect me to do alone here day after day?” I asked. “When you’re just gone without a word?” I felt annoyed at being ignored, irritated with myself at the emotion, the hurt, in my voice. But hadn’t he felt something the other night? When he’d held me like he had, hadn’t it meant anything?
Raphael and Damon glared at each other.
“Raphael, don’t be stupid,” Damon said as if they were somehow communicating without words.
“I’m being stupid when I can’t find my fiancée anywhere, and when I do finally locate her, she’s sitting cozy with my brother’s sweater wrapped around her shoulders, the two of you whispering?”
“What the hell are you suggesting?” Damon asked, stepping into the aisle toward Raphael.
Raphael dragged his gaze to me. “You don’t belong here, Sofia.”
I let out a short exhale and stepped out of the pew too. “That’s two places I don’t belong. I don’t even know why you want me here.”
“I’ll take you back to the house,” he said, his tone level, empty of emotion.
I walked toward the door, then realized I had Damon’s sweater on and tugged it off to hand back to him. “I can find my own way.” But he stood in the doorway and didn’t budge.
“No, you can’t.” He took my arm.
“Let me go.”
“Raphael,” Damon started, stepping toward us.
“You stay out of this. She belongs to me.”
“I’m a human being! I don’t belong to anyone!”
“Wrong.”
With a quick, cold smile, Raphael marched me out of the church and down the steps. Night was falling fast, and I had to admit, he was probably right that I couldn’t find my own way back.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked when he wouldn’t release me but kept walking at a pace too fast for me to keep up without stumbling. “Let me go. I’m not a child. Or a prisoner for that matter. What’s wrong with you?”
He stopped.
I tripped behind him.
Once he righted me, he opened the passenger side door of the truck, but I dug my heels into the ground.
“Get in.”
“No. Not until you tell me why you’re being so weird.”
“I was looking for you,” he finally said, his eyes hooded, any emotion shielded.
“You’re the one who left in the middle of the night. Left and never came back.”
“It was morning. That dog of yours was yapping. Get in the truck. Maria’s waiting with dinner. Eric shouldn’t have let you slip away.”
“I don’t like being followed and watched all the time.”
“It’s for your protection.”
I didn’t want to talk about Eric. “I don’t understand you, Raphael. I thought after that night…”
“After that night?”
The way he asked it, so casually, like it had been nothing. Like nothing had happened. It made me feel so fucking stupid, I faltered.
“I don’t want you hanging around with my brother,” he said.
“We weren’t hanging around. I just wanted to see—”
“My mother’s grave? You wanted to see why I’m so fucked up?”
He grabbed me by both arms, his grip too tight.
“You’re hurting me.”
“Get in the damn truck.”
“Why are you so angry?”
“Goddamn it, get in.”
He lifted me up, put me in the truck, and closed the door before I could protest. He walked around to the other side and climbed in. I saw Damon watching us from the chapel door.
“What about your brother?”
Raphael reached over to strap me in, then turned the truck around and drove off too fast.
“He’s a big boy. He can find his own way back.”
“Why are you so angry?”
“I told you the other night, Sofia. I’m fucked up. That’s all. Whatever you imagine happened between us, forget it.”
“What I imagined?” I asked, feeling angry myself now.
He gave me a sideways glance.
“Slow down.”
“You want to know about my back? About the scars?”
He didn’t slow down, his hands fists on the steering wheel as we drove by the house and toward the gate leading off the property.
“Is that what you were asking Damon?”
“Where are we going? Slow down.”
“My father whipped me. It was his special punishment just for me. I’m sure my brother told you all about it.”
I watched his face, feeling truly afraid now as we bumped onto the road, wheels spinning, kicking up dirt.
“Dozens of times. Down there in that cellar. And that’s not the worst of it.”
