Page 12 of Deviant

“We’re here because this is the last place you want to be.”

I tried yanking my hand from his, but the vise of his fingers wouldn’t allow it. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to understand.” He gripped my chin in his free hand, his fingers gentle and commanding all at once. “You just need to trust me.”

“I do trust you.”

“Not enough, babe.”

Before I could respond, he led me down the dark hall toward the bedroom on the right. The chain on the floor, ankle shackle left abandoned at the end of the bed, sat there like a snake about to strike. I couldn’t help but retreat into myself, shoulders hunching, arms crossing over the tightness in my chest.

I didn’t want to remember, but every detail of the morning Jax returned without Rafe flooded back. The sunlight streaming through the curtains, the chirp of birds outside the window, the utter devastation squeezing the air from my lungs after Jax told me Rafe was dead.

The phantom of that pain stabbed my heart now. I flicked watery eyes toward Rafe. “I told you I never wanted to see this place again.” I didn’t care if I came off as petulant. I thought I’d put his deception past me, but walking through the front door of this cabin was like crossing into another time.

A time when Rafe wasn’t mine, and I wasn’t his, because he’d wanted it that way. Helplessness was the theme of my life whether by my own weakness or as a result of someone else’s obsession.

But nothing had ever left me feeling as helpless as that morning.

Rafe closed the distance between us and tilted my chin up. “I know it hurts, but that’s why we’re here. We’re gonna put this behind us and make new memories.”

“It’s not that simple. How would you feel if I disappeared and let you think I was dead?”

“It would gut me.”

“That’s how you left me—fucking gutted. Forsixmonths, Rafe.” I turned my head, veering away from his touch, and my gaze landed on that shackle again. “I wanted to die with you that day. Nothing has ever hurt so much.”

“Don’t say that.” Rafe dropped to his knees and lifted the hem of my tank top, exposing the tattoo of his name on my belly. He brushed a string of kisses across the flowing letters. “The earth isn’t whole without you on it.” He raised his green eyes, and the brightness of his gaze reeled me in, softened my heart. “I’ve fucked up so many times with you. I’ve gotta make it right.”

“Rafe,” I said, nibbling on my lower lip. “How is being here going to fix anything?”

Slowly, he kissed his way up my navel, his knuckles grazing my skin as he pulled the material up my ribcage. “It will,” he whispered, removing my tank before cradling my face in his hands. “It has to.” He paused, brows narrowing over thoughtful eyes. “The nightmares won’t go away on their own.”

“I’m not the only one having nightmares.”

But I was the only one expected to deal with them. It might be okay for Rafe to ignore his demons, but the same rules didn’t apply to me. He was unfair like that. Even worse, he never denied it.

“It’s my job to protect you.” The past washed over his face, as bleak as the shadows invading the bedroom. His eyes darkened, forehead creasing. “I won’t expose you to the shit that goes on in my head. We’ve been over this, and I swear, if I have to say it one more time, I’ll—”

“You’ll punish me?” I interrupted with a hint of sarcasm. I held his scruffy cheeks. “You’re already punishing meeveryfucking time you shut me out.” I glanced around the room, from the bed where he told me he loved me for the first time to that fucking chain on the floor that served as a reminder of that awful morning.

The day he walked away without a second thought.

When the heart bled, there wasn’t an easy fix. You couldn’t just patch it up with a bandage and move on. And maybe that was our problem. Heartache, even when purposefully ignored, had a way of catching up.

“I need all of you, Rafe. But you won’t budge. You carry the burden of the past by yourself. You won’t let me share it with you.” I dropped my gaze as a lump formed. “And you say I’m yours, but you won’t even make it legal.”

“What if we did make it legal?”

I studied his face, my breath catching in my throat. He seemed sincere, but I couldn’t help but question his motive, because he’d made it clear he didn’t want a wedding.

No ceremony.

No piece of paper he deemed worthless.

Hisnohad been absolute, refusing to change to theyesI longed to hear.

“You don’t want to marry me, so why the 180 now?”

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