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Chapter Forty-Nine
RORY
Idon’t know what to say to Alistair. I’ve never seen this side of him. I knew he had it in him, he showed me through little actions, like bringing me breakfast and looking after Mischief, but to see him break down those walls tonight and rip himself open just so I wouldn’t leave?
It killed me.
How could I ever betray them now with his broken, ruined heart in my hands? That’s what he did, he gave his heart to me tonight. He gave me his secrets and the key to his addiction and past. He showed me the man he wants to be, not the man this world made him. The drive home is quiet, but not uncomfortable like the one on the way to the restaurant. His hand cups mine, and at every red light, he brings it up and kisses my knuckles. There’s a new spark in his eyes when he looks at me, a new life. He’s clean…
Shit.
When we get back, we ride the elevator up together. My legs are cold, and I’m still hungry from not eating, but this night turned out to be more perfect than I could have ever anticipated. It was better than any fancy dinner, expensive trip, or priceless dress, because it was real.
After we just stood in the cold, staring into each other’s eyes, we reluctantly pulled away. I thought he would kiss me, but he didn’t. Instead, we played, we laughed. He pushed me on the swings, and we chased each other and played tag. He even tackled me to the ground—my expensive coat has the mud stains to prove it. With giant smiles on our faces, I felt…alive again. Young, happy. For a few hours, I forgot everything else but him and the way he made my heart race and stomach flip.
Like Alistair, I lost a lot of my childhood, yet tonight, I felt like I found that little girl inside of me again. The one I buried under years of trauma. He does that to me… They all do.
When we reach my door, I turn to him. The words to apologize, beg for his forgiveness, and tell him everything are on the tip of my tongue, but in one fell swoop, he steals that from me too.
With a kiss.
It’s nothing close to the erotic, sexual things we have done, but it’s so much more. It’s chaste and sweet, and his hands tremble as they cradle my cheeks. He doesn’t push it or rush it, just simply kisses me like he has to, like he can’t not. It’s loving and kind, and when he pulls back, my eyes remain closed as I try to stifle my tears, because with that one sweet kiss, he stole more than my words, he stole my heart.
“Goodnight, kitten,” he whispers, and then presses another kiss to my forehead.
When I open my eyes, he smiles at me, then turns and walks away. He doesn’t ask for anything else, yet he’s whistling, happy, and I’m a mess. I rush inside, shut the door, and strip before I race to my room and throw myself on my bed, face down as I scream into my pillows. How do I fix this? How could this become such a tangled mess?
I thought I was in control, I thought I could do this to save me, to save my brother, but I’m realizing I can’t.
The Dixens have let me past that icy, rich exterior to the loving, kind, caring men underneath. They’ve given me a home, a future, a job. They may be assholes to everyone else, but to me, they are kings and I’m their queen.
To Bronson, I’m nothing more than a pawn.
So that’s my choice…
To be a pawn or a queen?
* * *
I slept like shit,tossing and turning all night. My mind swarmed with decisions, consequences, and choices. At about three AM, Mischief got annoyed with me and left to sleep on the sofa. I continued to squirm and wiggle, unable to get comfortable with guilt weighing so heavily on my heart. Just as the sun was rising, I finally drifted into a deep sleep, so when I wake to the sound of pans crashing together and laughter, I crack one eye open and deliberate if another two seconds of sleep are worth dying over.
Surely if it were another murderer, I would be gone by now?
Then I hear Maddox’s telltale deep rumble, and I close my eyes again. It’s only them. I must drift off, because the next thing I know, there’s a tongue lapping across my face. I groan and flip over, glaring at Mischief. “It’s a good thing you’re cute,” I grumble, and with a happy wiggle, he licks me again and jumps off to join the guys.
Dragging myself from bed, I stumble to the bathroom. I have giant bags under my eyes, which I ignore as I pee and wash my hands and face. I brush my hair, but my curls go wild, so I leave them to it. I don’t bother with makeup, but the cold water does wake me up a little more. Then, on tired, shuffling feet, I go to find out just what the hell is happening.
When I get into the living room, I still. My mouth drops open, and shock fills me as my heart skips a beat.
Are they cooking Thanksgiving dinner?
In my apartment? Well, technically it’s theirs…but still.
Alistair turns with a bright smile, wearing a pink frilly apron that says ‘Gobble me, Swallow me,’ and rushes over with a mug full of warm coffee. “Good morning, beautiful. Sorry, we tried to be quiet so you could sleep in. Wow, are you okay?”
“Coffee. Good,” I murmur, cupping it. I down some of the scalding life liquid and run my gaze down his outfit. “What’s happening?” I whisper, wondering if I’m still dreaming.
Wearing crisp jeans and dress shirts, the Dixen brothers look like models gathered for a cooking magazine’s photo shoot. I watch in awe as they bustle about the kitchen. Pots and pans steam on the stove, and a cutting board sits on the island with chunks of peeled potatoes.
