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“I feel betrayed,” he continued in a more serious tone. “Not by you, but by a man I consider a brother. And I get that you’re no one’s property, that you made choices on your own. Not asking you to understand or even respect how things work here, but I’m telling you I’m an old dog. I’m trying my best to learn new tricks, but I can’t promise I’m not gonna bare my teeth, draw some blood along the way.”
I leaned toward him, giving him a pointed glare. “You’re not to draw his blood.
“Can promise not to use any weapons,” he offered. “But, honey, I’m gonna have to at least punch him in order to move forward. We don’t really do cocktails and long conversations. We fight shit out.”
“You know that’s fucking insane,” I threw my hands up.
He nodded. “Maybe. But that’s the world you’ve got yourself into. You’re smart enough to understand that.”
“Maybe,” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “But I’m not going to like it.”
He grinned and leaned toward me, kissing my head. “Maybe this next generation will be a little more peaceful.”
A crash and a shriek of delight sounded from somewhere in the house.
We both looked in the direction where my baby brother was likely smashing something for the joy it brought him.
“Or maybe not,” he countered with a wink, standing and walking out of the room.
“Swiss,” I called when he was almost gone.
“Yeah, baby doll?” he asked, turning.
“Please don’t hate him,” I requested quietly.
He looked down at his boots , jaw set. “Don’t hate him, Violet. Just love you a fuck of a lot.”
“I love you too,” I whispered, my throat thick with tears.
He smiled at me and closed the door, leaving me with my thoughts.
Swiss was not my last visitor that night.
I was halfway through the plate of cookies and still on the same page of my book when the door to my patio quietly opened and closed.
The dark shape entering my room did not scare me.
I’d been hoping he’d come, even though I hadn’t made peace with him yet. Even though I hadn’t found a way to bury my father and his influence properly.
He didn’t come to me right away. He stood there, half illuminated by my lamp, half in shadow, staring.
Even now, after everything, I was still uncomfortable under his gaze. Not in a bad way. In the way that I was reminded that no one had ever looked at me like Elden did. No one saw me like he did.
I was frozen in place as he stared then eventually crossed the distance between us to sit on my bed.
“You’re brave to break into the house of the man who pointed a gun at your head today,” I commented, unable to think of anything else to say.
Though it was the truth. Swiss had promised he wasn’t going to kill Elden, but that promise was fresh, raw.
Elden did not respond to that. He kept staring at me with that tortured devastation on his face. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, trailing the back of his knuckles down my face.
I waited for more. For the ‘but. Nothing came.
“You’re sorry,” I eventually questioned, puncturing the silence that had felt like it would suffocate me.
“I’mverysorry,” he repeated, his tone serious.
I swallowed my smile. Even though today was heavy, very heavy indeed, it was quite something seeing Elden look so sincere and apologetic. But there was something else too.
