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Dread curls across my gut.
It could be happening because I didn’t believe I couldhavea family, any family, for years. Or it could be happening because my subconscious knows that something bad is coming.
Something badiscoming. Bettencourt is a formidable enemy. After all, he killed my parents.
My father was smart and accomplished, but he lost by clinging to his ethics. Were they worth his life? My mother’s? Mason’s debilitating pain? The way Jameson and Remy struggled when they were gone? The way they still struggle?
Another shock. I’ve been carrying more than grief. I’ve wanted more than revenge.
The truth is that I’ve been angry.
Angry at my father for letting that happen to him. Angry at my mother for dying with him. Angry at both of them for leaving their estate vulnerable and for letting my brothers and sister grow up without parents or money or support.
I’ve been so fucking angry.
But with Elise in my arms, I understand how love changes a man. Mason tried to tell me. I can still see the determination to get through to me on his face.We have to move on. We have to let the dead rest. Because I love her. I fell in love with her.
Love makes a man soft.
I was willing to die for vengeance, but that was an easy sacrifice to make. It was just my life, and what is that worth? Notmuch at all. But Elise and Nate are worth everything and then some. I’d die for them.
Love weakens a man, but it makes him stronger, too.
I get why Mason was willing to give up on revenge when he married Charlotte. I get how living in the present with your family can be more important than facing down the past.
Unfortunately, this new understanding demands action. I pull myself out of Elise’s arms, slip out of the bed, and pull on pajama pants. At the door, I turn back and watch her. She’s on her side, her hair in dark tendrils all around her. Her hand rests on the pillow next to her face, palm up, fingers curled. It’s such an innocent pose.
I would do anything to protect her.
Anything.
I go downstairs, find my phone, and dial.
Mason answers on the first ring. “What’s wrong?”
“Why does something have to be wrong?”
“Seriously. What jail are you in? Is Jameson with you?”
I let out a huff of amusement. “Jameson is not with me. I’m not in jail.”
There’s rustling, then a low, feminine murmur. “I’ll be right back,” he says. He’s getting out of bed. Leaving Charlotte.
“What’s going on?” His voice is different. He’s wary or worried or both. We didn’t settle things after the argument over Phoenix and the consortium. Plus, I don’t usually call him in the middle of the night. I want to tell him about the hospital visit, but it would only freak him out. It’s too hard to explain it now. It’s too hard to explain the hope I have.
Or maybe it’s not hard at all.
Maybe I’ve been making it hard, and actually, it’s simple.
I clear my throat. “I thought I was an island. I thought I was better off alone. That you—that all of you were better off if I wasalone. But it’s not true, and I’m not a fucking island, Mason. I’m with you now.”
There’s a pause. “Are you high?”
It makes me laugh. “You still want the merger?”
A longer silence. “Did you just say what I think you said?”
“Yeah. I did.”
