Page 93 of Redeem Me

‘Like it? I fucking hate it. I trusted you,’ he spits. ‘I trusted you with my sister. I told you her last boss came on to her, and you did the same thing. You took advantage of her while she was under your roof.’

‘He didn’t, Dermot.’ Ivy steps forwards, waving her hands like a white flag, with Roxy at her side. Yep, the damn dog can stay, drool and all. ‘If anything, I pursuedhim. I know what I’m doing. I know what I want. It’s my life. Let me live it.’

‘You know nothing. He’s not the right man for you, Ivy. He’s not good enough.’

I wince, but Dermot has a point. Ivy is so sunny, so selfless, so good, and I am tortured, after all.

‘He’s the best man I’ve ever met.’ Ivy steps closer to me, folding her arms over her chest.

‘He’s still in love with Isabella.’ Dermot’s gaze blazes to the wedding ring on my finger, but I told myself I wouldn’t take it off until I’ve had justice. ‘You need to give him a wideberth. You have no idea what he’s capable of.’ Dermot’s rage has him practically foaming at the mouth.

Ivy’s jaw ticks. ‘I know exactly what he’s capable of.’

The fight evaporates slowly from Dermot. ‘Fine. Do what you want. It’s your life. Just don’t expect me to sit around and watch you make a car crash out of it.’ Dermot stalks away without looking back.

Of all the metaphors, he chose the one that strikes the hardest.

He’s right. I’m not good enough for Ivy. But as long as she wants me, I’m hers.

I’m going to Hell. But I accepted that a long time ago.

Chapter Forty

IVY

I offer to fetch a dustpan and brush to clean up my brother’s mess, but Samuel correctly points out my hands are shaking too hard to use them. Damon ushers us into the huge kitchen/dining area and pours us a neat whiskey. Thankfully, the kids are still crashed on the couch and missed the entire heated exchange.

Caelon shuts Roxy in the lounge with them, rubbing her head. ‘I suppose you have your uses,’ he mutters. ‘But you’re not sleeping upstairs.’ He turns his attention back to me. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m not the one who got punched in the face. How’s your jaw?’ I trace my thumb over the bruise that’s already forming.

‘It’s fine.’ Caelon leans into my touch. ‘I let him have that one. Hoped it might make him feel better.’

‘It’s going to take more than that.’ I sip my whiskey and close my eyes as the burn slides down my throat.

I hate hurting my brother. Hate disappointing him. But I can’t live my life the way he wants. His words play through my head like a CD stuck on repeat. ‘He said somethingstrange. What did he mean when he said I don’t know what you’re capable of?’

A shadow crosses Caelon’s face. ‘Let’s talk about it later, after we get the kids to bed.’

An hour later, after the kids have crashed out with exhaustion and are safely tucked up, I head to the kitchen with a sense of dread building in my stomach.Everywhere I turn, family photos remind me of Caelon’s past and reality smacks me in the face like a sledgehammer now we’re back in Dublin. I’m not sure he’s ready for a future with me.

Roxy lies on her back, paws up in the air, snoring like an ogre. Caelon shoots her a filthy look as he pads across the kitchen, but I can tell he’s warming to her. ‘Back to the real world with a bang, right?’ He’s changed into those low hanging grey sweats I love, and my gaze falls to his perfectly formed ass as he opens the fridge door and pulls out two cold beers.

‘Not the kind of bang I was hoping for,’ I joke, but I can’t force a smile. Dread knots in my stomach like a ball of wool.

‘It wasn’t the friendliest welcome home, but at least it’s out in the open,’ Caelon says. He rests against the kitchen counter and beckons me over with a single finger.

As I close the distance between us, I turn the word “home” over on my tongue. It’s his home. Yes, I live here. But so does the ghost of Isabella, and I’m not sure there’s room for both of us. Especially when he still wears her ring. I wish he’d take it off, but I’d never ask him to do that.

‘Are you sure I’m what you want?’ He asks before taking a swig from his bottle and wrapping an arm around my lower back, pulling me close. ‘I don’t want to hold you back.’

‘You’re not,’ I say truthfully, leaning into him, drinking in his scent, collapsing into his solid frame. ‘Are you sure I’m whatyouwant?’ My eyes veer to the picture on the fireplace of Caelon with Isabella, Orla and Owen.

‘I’ve never been surer of anything.’ He presses a kiss to my temple. ‘Dermot was right. I’m not a good man. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. And I can’t guarantee I won’t do more things I’m not proud of.’

‘Like what?’ the dread in my stomach intensifies. Of all the things Dermot said, one line stuck out more than everything else.

‘You have no idea what he’s capable of.’

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