Page 34 of Dravin

“For not knowing the future either.”

“You’re not a clairvoyant.”

“No.” His hands fall away. He studies them without blinking, like they hold some kind of answer that he’s just not seeing. “No, I’m not. We wouldn’t be here now if I was.”

My nails bite into my jeans so hard that soft denim fibers work their way up underneath of them. “It could be worse. I mean, technically.” I wince. “I wish that it wasn’t, but we can’t change any of it.”

“Yeah.” His head flops back against the headrest. “It doesn’t stop me from wishing either.” A line appears between his brows, furrowing so deep that it practically cuts his skin. I have to curl my fingers harder into my thighs to stop myself from reaching over. The air shifts between us, crackling with energy, but not the same sexual tension that was there just a few minutes ago. It’s something different now. Something deeper and darker, like an endless abyss.

I’m falling.

He’s falling too.

Who’s there to catch us if we can’t open our arms for each other to stop that fall or brace for impact?

“Do you truly want me to find those men and make sure they’re dead?”

I said that, callous enough that I didn’t even think for a second what it would cost him. I didn’t think because I didn’t mean it. It was just an expulsion of anger.

It was full of truth, and yes, I do wish those bastards dead. It would be a bloody form of closure, but it would never be an end to my own pain. There’s no end to that, even if one day the edge of it might dull after all the repeated strikes against me.

I shake my head, but he’s not looking. I know he can sense the movement anyway. His face stays locked forward. “Burdening yourself isn’t going to bring Marcus back. Justice and vengeance won’t. Nothing will. The only thing it can do is make us safe.”

“Living a free life, without shadows and having to constantly look over your shoulder isn’t nothing, Kael.”

He’s right, but the cost of his soul isn’t worth it. How could I have been so callous and flippant? Has he been thinking of doing just that? Pouring over and over it until he’s suffocated by the truth of an injury I never should have inflicted on him?

“I- if I… No. I definitely implied that you weren’t worthy of love. That it was okay for you just to throw your life away. Do I wish that I was some kind of superhero that could just magically poof all those fuckers out of existence, slowly, painfully, and with an awfulness previously unimagined? Yes. I do. But that’s notreal. I don’t want you to leave here. I definitelydon’t want you to go to LA and do something stupid. Even if you’d come out of it alive, youwouldn’t.”

I reach for him, aiming for his arm, but he turns and sees it coming. He fumbles with the door behind him.

“Dravin?”

It bursts open and he tumbles out with zero grace.

“I just need a minute. A walk. Stay in the car.”

“Where are you going?” I wrench my seatbelt off, panicked that he’ll just leave me here. That he’ll walk away from me and all of this.

Logically, I know he’s not going to do that, but the whiskey is doing things to my brain that have zero interest in being rational.

“Stay there.” He points a hard finger at me.

“No!” I fling open my door and stumble out. Literally, because the car is low and my balance is still slightly off, and these fucking boots are murder.

Dravin freezes, his hands on the hood of the car. I mirror his position, and we stare at each other with insects flickering and darting through the headlights. It’s a good thing we’re in the middle of nowhere, or we’d be earning some curious looks.

We breathe like that, both of us saying nothing.

“You do believe that you’re worthy of love, don’t you?” He’s made it pretty clear what he feels about personal questions by trying to get out of the car and get the hell awayfrom me for a few minutes, and here I am, obviously taking a hint real well.

“I never considered it. It wasn’t on the table.”

“Brotherhood, then.”

His nostrils flare and he grimaces. He turns his head slightly, staring past me. I realize that it’s because he’s become very good at compensating for the glass eye. He never gets caught looking in two different directions.

“Why can’t we do this?”

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