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"Fucked up. I admitted to that. And I apologized for it too. Now, if you're worried that I might dangle your parents in front of you again, let me assure you, that won't be happening. One, because I didn't like that look it put on your face. Never felt lower than I did when you looked at me like you didn't know who I was anymore, angel cakes. I would willingly relive the memory of the night I found all my brothers dead before I would go over yesterday again. I never want you to look that hurt or betrayed again. And two, well, they're fucking assholes and I would be totally fine never seeing them again for the rest of my life."
I couldn't help it; I laughed at that.
"I could go the rest of my life without seeing them again too," I agreed.
There were some people who believed blood above all else. But people like me and Renny, people who found places like Hailstorm and The Henchmen, they learned that it wasn't about DNA; it was about who loved and supported you no matter what.
That was what family was.
And it had nothing to do with blood.
"So we're agreed," he concluded, giving me a smile.
"Well, we're agreed on the my parents being an asshole thing," I allowed.
"Sit, Mina," he requested, patting the spot on the other side of the small package that I wanted to pick up and shake like a Christmas present. I moved and sat down, pivoting toward him slightly. "Look, I can't promise you that is the only time I am going to fuck up. We both know there's no guarantee of that. But I can tell you that it's the last time I fuck up that epically. That look you gave me and that argument and the subsequent drinking and hangover and realization of how bad I screwed things up for no good reason? Yeah, I am pretty confident saying I won't push like that again."
"You're supposed to be some badass biker and you got a hangover?" I asked, smiling a little at the idea. "You guys are getting soft."
"Don't think you'd be saying that if you met Edison."
"Who the hell is Edison?"
"Long story," he said, ducking his head a little. "So what do you say?"
"About what?" I asked, stalling, not sure how I was supposed to be handling the situation. It was clear to me right then that, while I was good at telling others how to act and respond and make decisions, I was horrible at doing that for myself.
I tried to detach myself from it, consider what I would tell someone else in my situation to do. At the end of the day, there was nothing more someone could say than sorry. It didn't mean you had to accept the apology, depending on the offense, but you had to acknowledge that no amount of repeating that phrase would change the meaning behind it.
I certainly didn't need a man on his knees, crying, begging me for another chance. And, if that was what Renny came at me with, the decision to kick him to the curb would have been solidified. Because it was fake. Renny wasn't that kind of man. But he was the kind of man who usually never apologized, never tried to make amends for his fuck ups. He always thought his actions were justified, no matter how irrational that seemed to anyone else. It was how he was programmed. So the fact that he came to me and gave me a genuine, heartfelt apology, that meant something. It meant everything for someone like him, someone who previously never considered someone's feelings as important as knowing the truth, suddenly realized how in the wrong he was.
And I even liked that he told me he couldn't promise he wouldn't fuck up again. I hated empty declarations. I hated when someone promised something there was no way they could say with one-hundred percent certainty they would never do again.
His apology was possibly the most genuine one I had ever heard.
"About not using this situation to prove a point instead of doing what you really want."
"And what do I really want?" I asked, wetting my lips and watching as his eyes moved there for a second.
"Me, sweetheart. You want me."
My eyes went up, landing on his light blue ones.
He was right.
I did want him.
I wanted him more than I knew it was possible to want another person, in a way that I wasn't sure was even healthy.
"Renny..."
"Admit it."
There was no denying it. I wasn't even going to try.
"I want you," I said, nodding. "But I'm not sure..."
"You can never be sure," he cut me off. "I'm not asking for you to be sure. I'm not even asking for you to promise me anything except a second chance."
