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“No.”
“So, why do you call for me?”
“I…I don’t know. I don’t understand it. In the dream, I’m here. I’m sleeping. When I open my eyes, he’s standing over me. I tell him I’ll go with him, but the minute I start to leave, I get scared. I start looking for you. I don’t even dream about my husband, Siriano. I don’t understand.” She swallowed more faux tears. “Then Adrían’s face changes. He tries to pull me through the door, but I realize something’s wrong. That something’s been wrong the entire time. I don’t want to go with him. So, I call out for you…but you don’t come.”
“Why don’t I come?”
“Because…because you left, and then I feel,” she squeezed him tighter, “a weird feeling. Like pain. And when I open my eyes, you’re here, and I, stupidly, need to hold you.”
“Why is that stupid?”
“Because of the things you’ve done.” She looked up into his eyes. “To my little boy.”
“It was only a little scare. I never put my hands on him.”
Fucking liar.
“You nev…” She opened her eyes wide. “That’s what Adrían said. Did he tell me that because…becausehehurt my baby?”
“Yes.”
“God, I feel so stupid.”
“You can’t help it. You’re pretty. God doesn’t give pretty women much,” he tapped his head, “up here. You don’t need it. You will be pretty for ages. What use do you have for a brain when men exist?”
She laid her head on his chest. “What does that mean? Will you take care of me or something? Keep me safe?”
“Fucking witch,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “How have you done this?”
“Done what?”
He offered no response.
A part of her, minuscule as it was, felt sorry for him. To be the way he’d turned out meant he, in all likelihood, had a similar backstory to one or more of the guys. This life, in order to be successful, often had to be lived with an iron heart. It was why a fresh sprig of tenderness worked so well on an animal like Lavigne.
Despite murdering, raping, and harming innocent children, he still believed life could send him someone who truly wanted to caress his face. To call out for him during a bad dream. He believed life would send him someone he’d hurt and threatened to violate to be his salvation.
But he’d forgotten Curtis.
He forgot Theo.
He forgot sending those men to her house, one who’d put a gun to Josiah’s head. He forgot the abduction from her wedding, the ice baths, the rope around her neck, and the numerous blows she’d received from his fists.
Emptiness pulled so hard at his heart that he genuinely believed she could forgive him for killing the love of her life and abusing her three-year-old. He’d threatened her three-year-old’s life, forcing Theo to repress the memories to survive. Once the repression dissolved, he’d forced Theo into regression. Into screaming and fits and nearly drowning because he accidentally ran into the ocean to avoid a man created by his imagination.
Theo.
Herchild.
She shed the rope, took his hand, and drew back on the bed. He climbed onto the mattress, eyes locked with hers.
“See what I mean?” She lay on her back and placed his hand on her hip. “See how it’s different?”
He kissed her stomach through the shirt.
She reached along the side of the bed toward the baseboard. “This is the best way to do it,” she said. “When I’m warm and ready and calling out for you in my sleep. Please don’t leave me again. Not when I’m calling for you.”
“Fucking witch.” He raised the shirt. “Fucking, fucking witch. I am trembling. I have never wanted someone like this. I feel as if I will stick my cock in you, and I will be done.”
