Page 151 of Mine Again
“Believe in us.
“Trust in us.
“You and I, wearereal.”
Are we?
I search his face, my eyes bouncing between his. I hear his words, but they fall into a void.
What if we were just a foregone conclusion? A business deal struck in a backroom between our fathers.
He sees the doubt in my eyes.
“If you can’t believe this right now, that’s okay,” he says gently. “I have enough faith in what we are for both of us.”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
Instead, I settle back against his chest. His heartbeat, though a little fast, is steady enough to anchor me. It gives me something to focus on besides the despair tightening around my ribs.
Seeing him so distraught over having to watch me with Sebastian broke something in me.
I wallowed in my pain. How much it hurt to lose him, to grieve him.But I never considered what it costLuca.
What it must have been like to be on the outside, watching me, unable to stop what was happening. Building a future for us I was unaware of.
Of course, it would gut him just the same for us to be apart. Because he loves me.
And I hurt him. I never meant to. And never like that.
If only I had known he was alive. I would have waited. Without hesitation.
The rage creeps in before I can stop it, my hands balling into fists. At this Hale. At Father.
Even before all these revelations, I struggled to feel any grief over his death. Antonio Accardi was a rotten man. And even if I never say it out loud, I’m glad he’s gone.
But all that doesn’t take away the guilt that’s eating at me for letting Luca down.
I want to wipe the slate clean. Erase the pain, the choices we both made out of fear and grief.
If I could go back, I’d fight harder. Hold on tighter. Refuse to be left behind and insist Luca take me with him.
But I didn’t. And I can’t turn back time.
Now everything feels shattered. Me most of all.
The more I learn, the more I unravel.
Father. Sebastian. Hale.
Lies. Deceit. Manipulation.
It’s like every memory I’ve clung to has been rewritten in someone else’s ink.
I blink rapidly, like I can shake the thought loose, but it sticks.
My throat tightens. I want to scream. To scratch at my skin just to feel something that’s mine.
There’s a hollowness inside me so vast it echoes. My body seems foreign. My memories… unreliable. Like I’ve been living a life scripted by someone else’s hand.
