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ERIC
She’s standing right beside me, and everything in me both wants to reach for her and get as far away as possible. The indecision makes it hard to breathe. How can I crave someone so deeply, yet hate them so much? Betrayal coats my tongue. Despite knowing she had every right to do it with the way we’d stolen her, I trusted Genevieve. I let down my guard, let her get close, and then she took advantage of it. To make matters worse, I hadn’t even realised it right away. I woke up in the morning and went about my normal business. It was Archer who got the notification on his tablet that a different number had been called, and now the pompous asshole has my direct phone number. Archer had quickly cut the line and started a new one, but still.
After everything, after knowing how the dickhead had treated her, she called him.
But she hadn’t called the police.
That thought keeps running through my head, because although I feel betrayed, clearly she hadn’t given us away. Whatever Chaz said, it hadn’t been anything worthwhile. He hadn’t called Archer to accuse him of anything. He hadn’t done anything at all. No one was knocking down the door and rushing in.
Still, the betrayal is thick. Couldn’t she have done it to Gage? He’s been a proper asshole. I’ve been nothing but nice, and now I’m the one hurting, yet again. Despite our growing connection, she called Chaz fucking Dandridge. Fuck, I hate that asshole.
Her voice is weak when she says the small words, and I cringe away from it. It takes me a few moments to realise she’s apologising for more than just needing a glass. I’m not recoiling from her because I don’t want her touch. Fuck, I want her to touch me so badly, despite what she did. But clearly the way we’ve been treating her has taken a toll. I’m hurt, but so is she. Why am I blaming her for acting like a prisoner? Did I forget she’s being held here against her will?
I finally let my eyes drift to her, and the vision staggers me. Gone is the woman I was starting to see, and in her place is just a prisoner.
The dark circles under her swollen eyes make my chest hurt. She’s not sleeping. Her bones are sharper. Haven’t the others been making sure she’s eating when they take up the food? When was the last time she ate? She’s shaky on her feet, her fingers barely cooperating for her to pour the juice into the foggy glass. All she reaches for besides the juice is crackers. That’s not enough. She’s wasting away right before us. The fight is gone from her eyes, and her fear and desperation practically fill the air around her.
Still, I can’t do more than flinch when she moves to put the juice back into the fridge. Her shoulders tense at my reaction, and it’s clear she thinks it’s because I can’t stand to be near her, but really, it’s because I can’t stand not taking her into my arms and making things better. This distance is killing me, but the betrayal… I can’t let such betrayal slide. The last time I did so for someone I cared about…
Genevieve is not the same as Fiona, but all the old trauma, all the old pain, sits in my throat just the same. It takes so much for me to trust, and Genevieve took advantage of it. Despite knowing she had every right, the pain stops me from reaching for her, even as my heart hammers and my head screams at me.
“Stop looking at me like I might fracture,” she rasps out, and I startle, realising I’ve been staring at her without meaning to.
Without a word, I shove an apple towards her. She needs to eat more. She needs to sleep.
She stares at the apple and then slowly meets my eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Her voice wobbles, and my heart skips a beat in agony. “I’m a prisoner, despite your care, and I just—”
“But you did,” I rumble, the words coming out harder than I intended. The others watch silently as she flinches. Her eyes close for a moment before those long black lashes flutter open. Those mesmerising eyes only dig the blade in deeper. “I trusted you, Genevieve. I wanted to believe your promises.”
She takes a step forward. “But I didn’t give anything away. I just needed to try—”
“Youbetrayedme!” I spit out, slamming my fist against the countertop. The counters shake, but my focus is on the way she flinches away the moment I raise my hand, on the way she expects me to hit her. Her body seizes up so badly, she slams her hip into the counter, but she doesn’t run. She turns her head away, her hands coming up to protect herself. It’s automatic, a reflex, one that has me feeling sick to my stomach. She doesn’t run from me, despite the broken fear. I know Chaz never had the audacity to hit her, she’d never allow it.
This trauma is from before.
It has to be.
Shame fills me. In my pain, I triggered her own phantoms. We’re two broken people trying to pretend we’re not broken. For a little while, it was easy to be in each other’s company, but those spectres in her large, hollow eyes eat at my soul.
I made her flinch.
She expected me to hit her, to hurt her, like everyone else…
“I’m sorry,” she says, apologising for the flinch as if it’s her fault.
The others stay silent, observing the ordeal.
“Don’t,” I rasp out, my hands shaking. Everything in my body is telling me to get out and tame my rage, tame my own demons, before I make hers worse. “Don’t you dare apologise for something like that.”
Is this where you shoot me?Those words play on repeat in my mind.
Her bottom lip trembles, but I turn away, shoving past her as I head towards the front door. The others don’t follow, knowing I need time to myself. The second the chilly night air hits me, I start to run, my boots sinking into the wet earth, leaving tracks that show just how hard I start to push myself. I run until I can’t breathe. I run until my heart threatens to burst from my chest.
I run until the sight of her flinching away from my hand is all I see.
The desire to tear apart whoever hit her long ago fills the void, and I know I’ll forgive her.
But not yet. Not yet.
Not while the betrayal still lingers in my heart.
