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The all-too-familiar fear clenches in my chest. I turn toward the front door just as Pax runs through it, very much alive, his yoga clothes dark with blood and dirt and clinging to his muscled body in all the right places.
“Bree, what’s wrong?” Ambrose’s fingers brush my arm. “You’re trembling. You have nothing to fear. The monster is gone and we’re rid of Father Bryne. Nothing can hurt you inside these walls.”
“That’s just it,” I murmur. “I came so close to losing you all tonight. I need…I need…”
Edward’s eyes darken. He turns away. “I should go.”
“Don’t.” I leap after him and place my hand in his, my fingers falling through him a little, sending that now-familiar tingle along my arm. “Please, stay with us.”
Edward’s eyes burn into mine. “I don’t deserve you, Brianna. Everything that occurred tonight is because of me.”
“That’s not true. You saved Pax. You saved me. This is allmyfault. I was so upset after the party and I—”
“No.” Edward jerks his hand away. “I will not allow you to blame yourself. If you knew the wretched things I have done, you would not wish to forgive me so easily. I am the one who told Pax you were better off without him.”
I wince. I can’t help it. It’s an awful thing to say. Edward turns away, his shoulders sagging as he hides his face from mine. I can’t hate him when he already hates himself enough for all of us.
Pax glares at Edward. “The prince is right, Bree. You should not have brought me back. I am the cause of all your pain. I must do the only thing I can do to protect you from myself. You must give me my sword so I can finish this.”
“Pax, no…” Tears stream down my cheeks. Ihatethis. I hate that Pax believes he has to leave me to protect me, and that Edward is so broken that he’s determined to push us all away. I grab Edward’s shoulder, and this time, I’m so angry and hurt and desperate that my fingers grip him, and I spin him around so he’s facing me. Shock registers on his face, but it’s replaced in a moment by misery.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but it ends here. Tonight. You think that what you’ve done is so evil that you cannot be forgiven. But I am telling you there is nothing you can do to me, or any of us, that will make us hate you. Right?”
I turn to the others. Ambrose nods vigorously. Pax folds his arms and gives the kind of nod that indicates he’ll happily prove his point with violence.
I struggle to get the next words out through my tears. “I’m not your father, Edward. I won’t ever put conditions on my feelings for you. You can’t push me away with your bullshit, so stop trying. I will fight for you, always, even when you no longer wish to fight for yourself. Father Bryne may have been part of a secret society of priests who want to kill me, but he did teach me one thing – forgiveness is powerful. You can decide not to hold your sins against yourself. So, is there something you need to say to Pax?”
Edward looks away, his shoulders trembling beneath my fingers.
I wait.
Pax drums his fingers on the hilt of his sword.
It’s a long time before Edward clears his throat.
“Listen, Roman. I spoke to you with anger in my heart. I didn’t mean the things I said. I am bereft that I hurt you, and made you want to hurt yourself—”
“Excuse me?” Pax says with a grin, his hand cupped over his ear. “I didn’t quite hear you.”
“I’m sorry!” Edward yells. “Must I prostrate before you before you accept my apology? Do you wish me to write it into a poem? I am happy to oblige.”
Before anyone can stop him, Edward steps into the middle of the room, his feet planted wide and arms held expressively in what we’ve come to regard with trepidation as his oratory stance, and he recites,
“Upon this hallowed eve, I humbly bow,
Before thy valor, Roman, I doth vow,
A tale of grievous wrongs, I must confess,
And beg for mercy in my dire distress.
With quivering voice, my tale I shall unfold,
Of deeds unkind, in folly days of old,
In fevered fury, blinded by my pride,
I struck thee down, thy noble form defied…”
