“Maybe you don’t even realize that you just started something with me because you wanted to hurt him, flaunt in his face that you had me in your bed, that your rings are on my finger.”
“No.” He tugs my hand. “Come sit down.”
He pulls me onto the nearest couch. “My hate for him is separate from my love for you. I told you – I compartmentalized as best as I could to keep you in the dark because the last thing I want is to cause you pain.”
“Do you routinely hurt people?” I ask. “Have you killed anyone?”
His eyes search my face.
He says nothing.
“You have. You’ve killed people. Oh my God.”
“Calm down.”
“I’m calm. As calm as I can be under the circumstances, I mean…” I shake my head, “I can’t be an ostrich. If I don’t know what’s going on, it’d probably be more stressful than hearing the truth and trying to come to terms with it.”
“Once.”
I swallow hard. And I gawk. Because as much as I asked, hearing the answer and having it be a yes is harder to take in than I would’ve expected.
“I killed someone once. But I have had people hurt. And when I was younger, I hurt a few people under orders.”
“You said you’re not in the mafia. That was obviously a lie, too.”
“I can’t talk about any of that with you, but I will say I’m not in the mafia. I had a mentor that was powerful, connected in the criminal underworld. Dario’s father. I got invited over after we started hanging out, and it was soon evident Mr. F wanted to pick my brain, figure out what I was all about. Over time, he offered advice and then made an offer that would help me get to my goals sooner. I wasn’t down at first, but it was a means to an end and I needed it, for me and my little brother to get out of our living situation, which was always neglectful and sometimes abusive. He agreed to let me in with a clear exit in mind. At no time did I wanna join a gang or get on the ladder of a syndicate. I was upfront with him, and he agreed to a temporary situation and he let me move on – something he might not have done for most people, and I respected it. A lot. He was also there for me in a lot of ways when my mother was murdered. I have ties and allegiances to people in gray areas and that are linked to organized crime, but I’m not part of that world on a day-to-day basis. That said, I have hurt people that didn’t do anything to me to deserve that because of alliances or to pay back favors owed. I’ve made it a policy to leave violence as a last resort.”
“But you’ve killed?”
He shuts his eyes and blows out a breath, sifting both hands through his hair in exasperation.
“You haven’t had nothing but crackers today. And did you hold those down?” He touches my face.
I flinch.
He frowns.
“Killian… You said you wanted to talk. Work it out. And you’re deflecting right now. You’re closing down on me.”
“I don’t want to burden you with shit. It’s my job as your husband to look after you, to make your life better.”
“And is it my job as your wife to ask no questions so you don’t have to tell me any lies? Because I don’t want to live like that.”
“Let’s get some food and then we’ll talk some more about some heavier stuff. I wanna make sure you eat.”
He goes into the fridge and pulls out some sandwich fixings. Roast beef. A tomato. Condiments. Cheese.
“Let me clarify. Not only do I not want to live like that, I won’t,” I call out.
I stare at his hands as he makes us sandwiches. He plates them and brings me a glass of milk.
And I’m wondering by his expression, by the heaviness in the air if he’s also trying to figure out how to tell me things.
I stare warily at the food on the plate. My stomach rumbles. I really don’t wanna barf again.
23
Killian
It stings, seeing the woman you love shrink away at your touch. Because you’ve made her question everything in your relationship.
If I could go back, would I do things differently?
If I could go back, I’d still do what I did to the ass-wipe, but I’d be much more cautious, so she never found out. She won’t like it, but I know myself. I know I had to do what I did.
I also know we’re forever. I know it’s worth it. And I’ll break my back if necessary to get back what I’ve put on the line with her.
The way she reacted to me in bed a while ago, then clearly scolded herself – I easily read her. Her expressions are an open book and the fact that any mention of us being over doesn’t come with steely determination, it comes with the poker face I see straight through – she loves me. She wants me. She’s just afraid and she’s hurt. She’s feeling betrayed, but I don’t consider what I’ve done a betrayal that’s unforgivable. I was trying to protect her.