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“Can I come with you?”
Constantine said nothing until we were inside. He immediately locked the French doors then pulled the blinds. “No, you can’t. Right now, I need to keep you safe.”
“You didn’t tell me everything. Did you?”
“You will never stop asking questions. I do love that about you. I’ll tell you more when I return. Let’s get you in the room.” He led me up the stairs to one of the rooms he’d shown me earlier. “I have several men watching the house. You’ll be fine. Just stay in this room.”
“Why?”
“Because I told you to,” he huffed. “Do I need to lock you in?”
“No.” Whatever else had happened was sparking an entirely different kind of rage in him, as if a firestorm was prepared to annihilate everything in its path.
He gently eased his jacket from my shoulders, running his fingers down the side of my face. “I also enjoyed tonight, Jade. But a man like me doesn’t deserve happiness of any kind.” He backed away, looking at me as if he’d never see me again. As he turned around, I sensed he’d shifted into whatever headspace he needed in order to handle business.
“Keep telling yourself that, Constantine, until you finally believe it or until there’s nothing left of you to reach out and grasp what you really want.”
If he heard or cared about what I’d told him, I would likely never know. He walked out, closing the door behind him, leaving me all alone as I knew would happen almost every day.
I moved to the door, pressing my hand against the wood, listening to his footsteps as he walked away. Then I turned around, staring at the bed. I’d never felt lonelier in my life. As thoughts of my mother came to my mind, a sadness crept into my heart.
As a memory trickled into my mind, so did another round of sadness. The last day of her life had seemed so sudden, as if she’d simply grown tired of living. I closed my eyes, leaning against the door for support, allowing the haunting images to invade the present.
“It’s you and me against the world, kiddo,” she whispered as she tried to smile.
“You’ve said that to me since I was a little girl.” I rubbed her forehead, terrified that it was so sweaty. Her once beautiful red hair lay in strings against the pillow, the beeping sounds of the monitors drilling into my brain. I had her hand in mine. It was so cold, so frail, and I’d always thought that my mother was the strongest woman alive.
“That’s because it was true.” A single tear slipped down her cheek, rolling sideways to the pillow.
“I know. You were always there.”
“Because you were the most special… girl… in the… world.” She had difficulty breathing, her last words barely a mumble.
“Save your breath, Mama.”
“There are some things that need to… be… said.”
I continued rubbing her forehead, trying to remain calm. “I know you love me.” Now I was crying. I said I’d be strong for her and here I was blubbering already.
“Oh, baby girl. I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t… couldn’t…”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. I tried so hard. Your daddy was…”
At that point I didn’t want to hear about him. He’d put her in this position. He’d just up and vanished, dying on her when she needed him the most. Damn him. “I don’t care.”
“Listen. He wanted you so much, but things were…”
I wanted to be angry, to lash out like I’d done before, but what good would it do. She was dying. So I tried to smile, pretending as if what she was saying mattered to me in the least. “I know. Tough.”
“Not who… you think.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“He’s important. And… We were going to be together. But they almost killed him. So…”
Now she was rambling. “Mama. Just rest. Okay?”
