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I had feelings for you once.
No matter how hard I try to push away his words, they play on repeat in my head. Over and over and over again, I hear him say the same words.
I had feelings for you once.
It wasn’t just what he said, but the way he said it—there was complete truth behind his words. I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his tone. He didn’t say those things just to mess with me or try to punish me somehow. He said it because he meant it.
Lucas has been thinking of me… all this time.
For the six years I spent away from the mafia, I told myself that I had left it all behind: the people, the lifestyle, the memories. It should’ve been easy for me to do, especially since growing up, half the time I didn’t even know what was going on with my father. I knew his job wasn’t like the jobs my friend’s parents had, but I wasn’t all that concerned about it. It was only after I turned ten or eleven, when I was leaving the true innocence of childhood behind, that I truly became a part of his world.
But those years, between ten and sixteen, were obviously more formative than I thought.
This world, this life, is in my blood more deeply than I realized.
Even after several years in Washington, when the memories of my past began to fade as I determinedly built a new future for myself, I would find myself slipping back in time occasionally. I would wake up in a sweat from dreams of my time with Lucas and Zaid or memories of a moment shared with Hale or Ciro.
How was I supposed to simply forget them? They were no small part of my life.
I cared about each of the four boys all that time ago, even though I never had the guts to say it out loud. Not even to the twins, not even after what happened between us.
It wasn’t just attraction either, although I harbored secret crushes on all of them. It was deeper than that. Bigger. Something like kinship. Like love.
It’s something I’ve worked hard to push away and bury deep, but now it’s digging out of its grave, alive and ready to consume me whole.
Still… I always wanted to know.
Did they care about me the same way I cared about them?
And here I have my answer.
Lucas has been thinking about me for six years…
He said he cared.
My heart does another odd flip in my chest, confused by the revelation. It’s six years too late, and yet it still finds a way to snake around my lungs and my chest and squeeze hard.
Lucas cared.
How the fuck is that supposed to make me feel?
My thoughts are already a twisted mess—I don’t know what I’m supposed to say or think or do anymore, and this complicates things in a way I shouldn’t let it.
I told myself it wouldn’t happen again. I wasn’t going to give away any more of my body than I already had, but my mind is getting caught up in the games that they play, the power dynamics. I know I can hold power over each and every one of them with just my body alone, but it still does no good to me.
Because I may hold power over them in those moments, but I hold no power over myself.
I constantly tell myself this will be the last time, but it never is. Half of me resists that idea, still wanting to fight it, but I know I can’t. I know that over and over again, I will betray myself.
And over and over again, they will win.
My arms strain against the binds, frustration overcoming me. I want out of this madhouse, this circus of fucked up emotions. Everything about it pushes me further and further into the same darkness my father and I tried so hard to run from.
They are my captors, not my friends, I remind myself, taking a deep breath. Our pasts don’t change anything.
Screwing my eyes shut, I draw in a deep breath, forcing my lungs to take as much air as they can before slowly letting it out. I repeat that action twice more, and finally, my racing mind begins to slow.
As it does, I turn my thoughts to Brian and our conversation from earlier. Even though he was distressed and I was scared, hearing his voice again brought a small flicker of hope to me.
