“Why not?”
My chest tightened.
“You’ll leave me,” I said. I felt pressure behind my eyes to go along with the tightness inside my chest. “I could tell when I saw you last night. If…if you did that, well, I’d still fight, but I’d probably lose. There wouldn’t be a fucking point to winning.”
“What about your son?”
I thought about my words for a second before responding, but all the revelations I had at the beach were still clear in my mind.
“It wouldn’t matter anymore,” I admitted. “I already knew he was out there. I already knew he was in that family. Without you, nothing else would matter to me anymore, not even him.”
“I don’t know how I feel about that,” she said quietly. “You should care about him.”
“I do,” I said. “Fuck, he’s the main reason I got drunk. I haven’t even seen a picture or anything, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him. That and the whole tournament thing…I just couldn’t deal with it all.”
“And now you can?”
“No,” I admitted. I tried to compose myself again. “But when I saw your face last night…shit.”
I could feel myself putting up shields, trying to protect that inner core deep inside of me that knew I should let her go; she’d be better off. This whole situation was further proof being around me was dangerous and ultimately not in her best interest. I’d said it many times, and though she assured me over and over that I was worthy, it was still easy to forget.
Focus.
“I know I can’t do that again,” I said. “Fuck, I thought you were going to leave. I was so fucking sure of it.”
The pressure that had been building throughout the conversation reached a threshold, and I lost it. I launched myself at her, no longer able to tolerate any distance between us. Raine gasped as I grabbed her and pulled her against me.
“I can’t lose you!”
“I’m right here,” she said. She moved her arms around me and returned my embrace.
“I’m sorry…I won’t ever do it again,” I promised. “I’ll get us through this. I’ll keep you safe—I swear!”
“Oh, Bastian,” she said.
Raine pressed her lips to my forehead, and I turned quickly to capture them with my own. It was just a brief kiss, and as soon as we parted, I looked into her eyes.
“I can’t be without you, Raine,” I said. “I love you so fucking much, the thought tears me up. It makes me want to destroy everything in here, because if you left, every fucking thing in here would remind me of you. None of it would matter anymore because you are my fucking world.”
“I’m not going,” she said. She brought her hand up to my face and stroked my cheek. “I’m still here. I’m not happy about what happened, but I’m not leaving you. I love you, Bastian. That hasn’t changed.”
“I didn’t fuck it up?” I asked, needy asshole that I was. I needed to hear her say it again.
“You did mess up,” she said, “but I understand why you did it. Everyone’s allowed to make a single mistake. To be totally honest, I was pretty surprised you made it this long.”
I wondered if that’s what her support group had said—that I was probably going to drink again and that it was just a matter of time. I wanted to be pissed about it, but the evidence was on their side.
“One time,” I said quietly. “Never again.”
“I can put up with this one mistake,” she confirmed. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to tolerate this happening repeatedly.”
“We’re okay?” Damn my need for reassurance, but I had to hear it. I had to hear it again and again because there was still the child deep inside of me that knew—just knew—he wasn’t wanted. Not by her, not by anyone else, and not under any circumstances. No matter how perfect the man-child tried to be, no one would ever want him.
“I love you,” she said again. “We’re fine.”
The tension inside of me snapped. I brought her face back to mine and fought with myself to be gentle. I wanted to hold her so tightly that she could never get away from me. I wanted to possess her completely and know that she was mine and mine alone.
Instantly, I needed her. I needed her if I was ever going to get through any of this fucked-up mess called my life. She was my salvation, and I had to feel the physical affirmation of her forgiveness.