Say It's Forever (Redemption Hills 2)

Yeah. Definitely dangerous.

Still, regret fluttered, shame at the way I’d reacted.

Instead of thanking him, I’d blown up in his face.

Darius seemed to war, peeking at me every couple of seconds as he flew down the street, his words controlled as he bit them out. “He’s my boss, Salem, and you need to stay away from him. Simple as that.”

But it was the way my brother looked like he was about to snap the steering wheel from the dash that made me think it wasn’t so simple.

The way his jaw locked, and rigidness took to his spine.

His anxiety ripped through the air and banged through the cab.

Slowing, he made a right into an old neighborhood. Here, the houses were quaint and modest, fronted by lawns and ancient, towering trees.

Darius’ breaths filled the air.

Anguish tightened my chest, but still, granite filled the words. “I took care of myself for four years, Darius. You can’t tell me who I can and cannot see.”

Not with Jud. Not with anyone else.

“And I barely got you back, Salem. You think I didn’t worry about you every second of every day? Do you think I wasn’t terrified? Do you think I didn’t know you were out there, fuckin’ scared and hiding for all that time?”

He blanched with the admission. “Spent years not sleeping through the night. Not knowing how you were or where you were. Desperate for the rare calls you made to let us know you were safe. Having no way to change it or make it better. And now that we brought this family back together? I will do anything—absolutely anything—to make sure you two are safe.”

Sadness swept through my being. “It’s not your responsibility, Darius.”

Foreboding whispered through my consciousness. A warning that I’d been a fool, agreeing to come here. That maybe Darius was wrong. That it would never be time, and it would never be safe, and thinking it would only destroy us in the end.

But there was no question Darius was right on one account. We would never find a normal life if we were running forever. Would never find peace or safety or stability.

I owed her that. Wanted it more than anything.

I had to take the chance.

For her.

Years had passed without a word or a trace, and I had to pray it was enough.

Darius’ brow pinched as he made a left into the single drive of the house he’d been renting for the last three months. “It is my responsibility,” he countered, blowing out a sigh as he put his truck into park and shut off the engine.

But he didn’t make a move to get out. Instead, he shifted, reached out, and set his hand on my arm. His voice tightened with the plea. “I need you to know that I will do anything to keep you safe, Salem. For you to have a good life. No matter the cost. It’s time.”

Tears filled my eyes. Love filled me up to overflowing.

It spilled free with the rush of moisture that slipped down my cheeks.

Marked and true.

I touched his face. My big brother who I had always looked up to, adored, and revered. The one who was taking the chance, too.

“I know you would, Darius, and there is no way to express my gratefulness for that. For what you’ve done. For what you’re sacrificing. And I’m terrified the only thing I’m doing is putting you and Mimi in danger. That I might be responsible for—”

A swell of sorrow crested. My breath caught on the snare of it.

Tight and hot.

A hole so deep it would never be filled.

It was my fault.

It was my fault.

I nearly buckled with the grief.

“You’re not putting us in any danger,” he insisted. “We’re safe. Promise you.”

I swallowed the torment, my thickened tongue rushing over my lips so I could get this out.

“What happened…it’s going to hurt…haunt me forever…”

No, there were no actual words. No way to verbally express what this kind of loss felt like. The empty pit that festered.

I forced myself to continue. “You convinced me to come here. To start a new life. That it was time. And because of that, I’m looking forward for the first time in years. For the first time, I’m not just surviving, I’m living. And I’m so thankful for you. So thankful you love us so much that you would stand in front of anything to protect us. Thankful you moved here to create a safe place for us. But you also can’t stand in the way. I know I’ve made a million mistakes and I’m sure I’ll make a million more, but I have to do this, Darius, and you can’t freak out every time I step out the door. Not if I’m actually going to live.”

His expression twisted in grief. “I know, and that’s all I want for you—for you to live. Free. Without fear. Without ever havin’ to look over your shoulder.”