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“What did my dad say?”
“Stephen warned that if I gave this message to anyone other than my dad, he would find me and kill my sister and me.”
Anya’s eyes widened with horror.
“When Stephen finally let me go, and his car dropped me off outside my home, I was badly shaken. I didn’t want to tell my mom what happened because I didn’t want to worry her. Plus, I knew she was with my sister, and probably didn’t even realize I was home late. I tried to get to my dad to give him the message, but he was busy taking back-to-back meetings.”
“Your dad wouldn’t see you?”
“His men sent me away.” More precisely, it had been Ridley’s father who’d refused to let me in that room. A fact she didn’t need to hear. His son had more than carried the burden of guilt for well over a decade. Perhaps the only reason he’d stayed around long enough to watch me throw my life away.
A mosquito launched its proboscis into my forearm. I slapped it dead. “They wouldn’t let me see him. They told me he was too busy. I thought I had time. Thought that once the evening came around, his men would filter out like they always did, and my father would see me. And then I’d tell him what happened.” Wiping away a streak of sweat off my neck, I willed myself to go on. “I should have fought my way into his office. Fought anyone who tried to stop me. Instead, I was the well-mannered son who asked for permission to speak with my own father.” I cleared my throat. “I failed to warn him Stephen was coming.”
Anya looked horrified.
“They swept through the house like a plague, killing everyone in their wake. My mother died in my arms in the garden.”
“You saved your sister?” Her voice was distant.
“I should have saved them all. After Mom died and we knew we couldn’t do anything more for her, we hid. In the only place they couldn’t get to us.”
“Where?”
“The maze.”
Tears welled in her eyes.
“I don’t want your sympathy, Anya. I want you to know why I hate him. Why I took you from him. Why I wanted him to suffer because I had you.” My hands clenched into fists as I gathered the strength to say the rest.
“I’ll never forgive him.”
“I am beyond forgiveness, too.”
“No, you’re not.”
I raised my hand to stop her. “You’re about to hate me. Maybe even more than him.”
“Never.”
“After my parents’ funeral, I followed him to your house in the Garden District. Stephen was alone. I didn’t care for my life. I cornered him without his men close by. Told him what my intention was. I vowed to come after—” I bowed my head as I said the rest. “That I would find you. Bring you here. And kill you.”
“Revenge?” she whispered it.
She knew no one could stop it. Not now. Not here. Should my threat go as planned, no one would hear her scream.
“I forgive you.” Her words carried on the air.
My stare held hers. “You shouldn’t.”
“And yet, I do.”
“Forgiving me isn’t smart. I’m not a man who deserves it.”
She leaned forward and pressed a finger to my mouth. “Stop. I do. I understand. I get why you did it.”
“Anya,” I snapped. “I was going to kill you.”
“You weren’t. I see that. I know you would never have hurt me. That’s not who you are. And after what we did to you, I can understand.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong. Other than being born in that family.”
She hesitated, ready to form words but unable to say them. “I’m glad you told me.”
Perspiration spotted her brow. She swiped it away with her hand.
“I’ve scared you.”
“No, I’m just fucking hot.”
A half-laugh escaped my lips. You haven’t lost her. Not yet. My brain scavenged for signs she was trying to be brave. Trying to placate me. Before she left me for good.
Anya slapped my forearm. A jolt of pain. She held my gaze. “Mosquito.”
“This was a bad idea, wasn’t it?”
“We could have bought repellent.”
“Then you would have guessed.”
“Not in a million years.” She sucked in a sob. “He’s a monster.”
“I’m the monster, Anya.”
“No, you’re the result of his cruelty. I pray God does something.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
Our boat shifted, turning a little before continuing. Anya gave a nervous glare my way.
Rolling my sleeve up, I scooted to the edge of the boat. “Probably a gator.” I reached my hand into the water. “Let me check.”
She leaped toward me. “No!” Her fingers latched onto my arm and yanked it away from the surface.
I shook the droplets off my hand. “I have this thought that won’t go away.”
“What?”
“If I die, all your problems will go away.”
Anya fell on top of me, knocking me backward and landing on my chest. Rocking the boat. I shifted us both to get comfortable and welcomed this much-needed hug.
