His expression is stern. “It’s medicine for the pain. You can take two pills every six hours, and it’s been—”
“I don’t want it. At least, not right now.” I have to speak slowly, carefully, but I’m gaining more focus with every word I say. I have hazy memories of a hospital bed with thin sheets and a warm, strong hand holding mine. I remember being discharged and coming here… Has he been taking care of me?
It’s all too unreal, like something I dreamed instead of lived. That’s the drugs.
He doesn’t look thrilled about the deviation from my schedule. “You’re in pain,” he says flatly.
“I’ll live.”
No smile either. “Honor—”
“Oh, I’m Honor now? I thought you liked me better as Honey.”
Pain flashes over his face. “You were shot a week ago. You need rest. You need to take your pills.”
A week? How many more days will I lose if I swallow more pills? No. No more delays. I went too long without knowing the truth. Especially the truth about him. I can deal with a lot of bad things. Hell, everyone has a past. Including me. But I need answers now. I need to know.
“Where’s Clara?”
He meets my gaze. “She’s here. She’s safe.”
Relief is cool and wide, an open space so I can breathe again. “And she’s your sister?”
His eyes are solemn. “Yes.”
So what does that make us? “Tell me everything.”
He runs a hand through his hair and blows out a breath. “Okay. That’s fair. But before I tell you that…” He paces away and comes back. “Just know I’m not proud of what I did. Maybe I had my reasons. Like being a selfish bastard. That’s a reason. But I’m not proud.”
I already feel sick to my stomach just thinking of it, and I’ve only been conscious for a few minutes. “You told me the story of how the tiger got his stripes. Now tell me how you got yours.”
I’m asking for more than the story of his tattoos. I’m asking for his life, his pain.
I deserve that much.
He sits on the edge of the bed and takes my hand in his.
“I told you my father left us, my mother and me,” he begins. “What I didn’t say is that he left to be with another woman. He worked security for a wealthy family. He had an affair with the woman. They ran away together.”
I didn’t kill her. No one did. She’s still alive. “My mother.”
He hesitates. Then nods. “Yes.”
“But you and I aren’t…”
Kip’s brow furrows. “Related? No.”
“Thank God.” I hadn’t thought so because of the timeline. But then I hadn’t thought Kip was Clara’s half-brother either. It feels damn good to be sure…
A ghost of a smile brushes over his lips. “Clara is your half-sister. And she’s my half-sister. If our parents had managed to get married, that would make us stepsiblings. But they didn’t. And so we’re nothing.”
Nothing. The word clangs in my hollow chest.
Maybe he feels the loss too, because he paces away and then walks back. He runs a hand over his face. Every anxious movement increases my fear tenfold. I thought I was safe now. The monster was slain—both my father and Byron. I’m out of my childhood mansion. I’m no longer in the Grand. I’ve escaped everything I’ve ever been running from. Only I don’t know where to go next. And I’ve come to need a man I shouldn’t have.
Turns out what I had to fear the most was the man I ran toward.
“I got involved with some bad stuff when I was a kid. Dealing on the street. Shaking down other dealers. It paid well and kept food on the table.”