Page 104 of A Heart So Haunted
I squeezed my eyes shut before the knife hit home.
Hadrian killed his father and butler. Hadrian meant to do it.
A war storm tangled through my body. A version of understanding, hurt, confusion, and empathy all in one. A sob ransacked my body, tight and uncontrollable—and all that jealousy that I’d felt for this man, this creature, suddenly slipped away. Because I wasn’t jealous of what he’d been through now. Before, I wanted the strength he’d had at handling his family, his life. But now I knew it had been desperation.
I hurtforhim. We were two halves of the same coin. He’d chosen a different path than I had. Whereas I secluded from my pain, he’d imploded.
The question was: Could I forgive him for doing such a thing? Those words echoed through my mind:Sometimes good men do evil things. I bit down hard on my tongue, tasting metal and grime. I cried, in a gut wrenching, visceral way. I’d let this man kiss me. I’d let this man dig his way beneath my skin and burrow there.
What else had his father done to him? And was I okay with forgiving him, for keeping this from me? What kind of person did that make me if I did?
Pot to kettle, he’d told me once.
Parts of my heart warred with each other. How had I let a man that killed his father slip his claws into my heart, when Ivan had been just as vicious in a different way? Could his actions be justified any more than Ivan’s could, or even my own?
Hadrian isn’t this man anymore, I thought. That was why.
Ivan continued his hurt, he kept his head in the sand, and moved on. I’d seen it—Hadrian wasn’t the same man he used to be. He’dchanged.
And I was ravenous to do the same. Because if someone looked at me, at any of the things I’d done and deemed me unworthy of redemption, how would I handle that? Would I think it was justified, like Hadrian did? Would I hide in my hurt and wait years for someone to come and find me? Is that not what I was attempting to do to myself right now?
Wouldn’t I want someone to seek redemption for me, had I been in his shoes?
I swallowed bile.
The room broke apart.
Chapter Twenty
I’d once heard that self-sabotage was a coping mechanism for some people. I couldn’t help but think about that when I checked the text thread I’d started with Irene.
A miniature blue check told me Irene had seen my message. I almost wished I’d turned off read-receipts. Either that, or shoved my phone into a bowl of water and frozen it so I couldn’t check it every three and a half minutes.
After I’d pulled myself into my bed sometime just before daybreak, I’d replayed last night on rewind. Hadrian’s urgency, his touch, then those words. An hour of tossing later, I decided the best thing I could do was get up and start my day. Or at least keep myself busy.
“I’m sorry,” Sayer groaned through my phone. I shuffled outside to my SUV, chill bumps eating up my legs in the cool, damp morning air. Mourning doves cooed in the bramble. If I paused, the trees could be heard whispering to themselves. “I might be down tomorrow, though. If that’s okay?”
“Take the time you need,” I assured him. I unlocked my car and took a tentative look back at the house. “No rush. Not at all.”
All the windows were shut, doors locked, valuables put away. Mom never had been a morning person, but I wouldn’t put it past herto show up unannounced, expecting something since her night away had been completed, as promised.
“Are you sure?” Sayer seemed to home in on my feigned peppiness. “Is your mom there already? I thought you paid her to scoot.”
“I did. And she isn’t. I just had an idea for something for the house, and I’m going to check if Meredith might have it.” I had a feeling if I didn’t start looking now, I’d find myself back in the attic, buried under boxes of paperwork and dust, staring into a corner with a wondering imagination. Of all the things that could have happened last night instead of that argument.
I climbed in the driver’s side. I was already pulling out of the driveway by the time Sayer said, “Well, let me know if the loon shows up. I’ll bring my taser. I’ve never had the chance to use it.”
“I’ve had too many firsts lately,” I teased. “Maybe don’t put assault on my list.”
“Tasing someone isn’t assault,” he guffawed. “This is self-defense we’re talking about, Lan. Your right to a peaceful house. With no money swipers.”
“Okay, fine. I trust your judgment.” I flipped my blinker on and turned toward Stetson.
By the time I parked and approached Meredith’s, I regretted not making a cup of coffee to go. My eyes felt heavy, my throat hoarse. Without thinking, I hurried across the street to The Blue Corduroy. The door tinkled in welcome.
I didn’t want to be here. But I knew I needed to try.
Last night made me realize that.
