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He steps a little closer and takes it, threading his fingers through mine. He doesn’t crawl onto the bed beside us, but he bends down and lifts my hand to his lips, kissing each of my fingertips.
Just like Hale did earlier.
It was the first thing Hale did before building up to so much more.
And I can’t help but hope it’s a first step.
9
Grace
Hale and Ciro were both in the room when I fell asleep, but neither man is still there when I wake up.
As I blink my eyes open, my brows pull together.
Carefully arrayed on the nightstand are a variety of cough drops, throat soothing teas, painkillers, and a cream to treat bruises. My chest tightens a little, and I swallow, noticing the slight ache in my neck as I do.
I doubt any of these men keep tea in the house, which means that sometime between last night and this morning, Ciro went out and got all of this stuff before leaving it here for me. If I were trying to convince myself to hate these men, I might argue that his sweet gesture doesn’t count—he’s only trying to fix what he broke.
But he didn’t break me.
I’m not that fucking breakable.
I’m not sure he’ll ever see it that way though, or ever stop blaming himself for the demons that haunt him.
How can one of the sweetest men I’ve ever known also be one of the most terrifyingly violent? It’s hard to reconcile the two halves of who Ciro is, and I worry that he doesn’t even see the good side of himself anymore. The self-loathing on his face last night broke my heart. The way he wouldn’t even touch me…
But he did touch me. After Hale made me come, after the three of us shared that moment, he let himself reach out for me, just once. I
hope like hell that means he hasn’t given up on himself entirely.
My body is sore in other places as I get out of bed and pad to the bathroom to shower. My skin is a patchwork of scrapes and bruises and healing wounds, and as I gaze at myself in the bathroom mirror, I realize I look like I’ve been through a war.
Except the war isn’t over. It’s still raging.
And I need to be a better soldier.
I need to protect my heart.
Every time I think I know where I stand with these men, something happens that knocks me completely off balance again. No matter how hard I try to keep my heart closed off, each of them seems to have found the cracks in my armor.
I spend most of the day in my room, slipping downstairs only to grab food and make tea. I eat dinner with the men, and although Hale’s penetrating gaze practically burns a hole in my skin, I avoid meeting his eyes. Ciro, in turn, avoids looking at me, and Zaid and Lucas watch all three of us with curious gazes.
I do my best to keep my distance from all four of them for the next few days, although I find that I miss them in a strange way. I’m tempted to go looking for the twins or find Hale in his office, but I hold myself back.
Because now I really don’t know where I stand. With any of them.
I’m not sure if Zaid and Lucas know what happened between me, Ciro, and Hale. Would Hale or Ciro tell them? Ciro, certainly not, but that’s just because he’s not the type to talk more than he has to. But Hale might’ve told them. Or they might’ve guessed.
I’m tempted to seek out Ciro too, but out of all the men, he’s the one I feel least able to approach. There’s a connection between us that I can’t deny, but despite that small moment of contact between us while I lay on the bed beside Hale, I can feel how desperately Ciro wants to keep me at arm’s length.
I was being honest when I told him I’m not afraid of him, but I don’t know if that matters to him. The bruises on my neck take a few days to fade into nothing more than small greenish shadows, and I can practically feel the self-hatred and regret pouring from him every time he glances at them.
But he would never intentionally hurt me. I know that. He’s a good person, underneath his scars and trauma. He’s protective and caring and loyal to the people he loves.
Not like Brian.
The man I once thought I’d marry tried to kill me in cold blood. He’s the one I should’ve been afraid of, but I was too blind to see any of the warning signs in him—and to be fair, he was a fucking good actor.
