Page 7 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
“She treated you like her own daughter.”
I raise a skeptical eyebrow. She didn’t look that happy to see me. “Are you sure? Because she wasn’t all that maternal when we met earlier. And her saying she wants to be like my mom for the ceremony is, well…a little strange.”
Pain twists his face. “She used to be warm and sweet. But not since Katherine’s death.”
The back of my neck prickles at the name. “Who’s that?”
“My younger sister.”
I suck in a breath and stare. I had no idea he had a sister. Or that it damaged and changed his mother. None of the articles about Tony mentioned a sister. Why the hell not? It couldn’t have been such a secret, could it? Or was there more to Katherine than what he’s saying?
“She was so beautiful and innocent.” He closes his eyes briefly.
Oh, Tony. The torment on his face is so stark that I feel like it’s my own agony. Without thinking, I reach over and squeeze his hand. I understand the pain of losing a family member all too well. I wonder if he and Harry never talk about her because it’s still too painful. After all, she died so young. They can’t even comfort themselves with the notion that she lived a full life.
“Our being together was unacceptable to Mother. She always had a…bad reaction to anybody who was nice to me, and I didn’t want you to suffer. So we had a fight—a bad one—about the tattoo. You were furious, and I didn’t know what to do because tattoos are just so permanent. I left for Los Angeles, by myself, instead of staying to work things out. I thought maybe once we’d had a chance to calm down, we’d find a way to deal with the tattoo. Instead…” His Adam’s apple bobs. “You died.”
I flinch. Even knowing what people assumed, hearing it spoken out loud still feels as shocking as a plunge into cold water. The idea that people thought I was dead…and suffered for it…is hard to get over. Death doesn’t have to claim a person to touch their life.
Tony continues, “We cremated the body, and I spread the ashes. I knew if I’d stayed behind, or taken you with me to L.A., you would’ve never been killed.”
Chills and sympathy run through me. It must’ve been horrendous to go through that, especially after an argument and the guilt that must’ve came with it afterward.
“Something else could’ve happened,” I say softly, not wanting him to carry the burden any longer. “You said I could’ve been a target. If that’s the case, they could’ve gotten to me some other way.”
“No.” He pulls me toward him and embraces me so tightly that I can’t even squeak in surprise.
I start to push him away, then stop when I realize how badly he’s shaking.
“Don’t ever say that,” he says, his voice raw. “Nobody’s going to get you, ever. I’m going to keep you safe, Ivy. Nothing’s ever going to hurt you again.”
If half the intensity in his tone is genuine, I know he won’t. I remain passive in his arms for a moment, then slowly, I raise a hand and stroke his back. I had no idea I was that closely stuck in the middle of his family life, or that the argument we had left such an impact on him. It bothers me that my lack of memory is making it harder for me to anticipate and figure out what’s happening between us, even as sorrow and sympathy move through me for all that he must’ve lost and suffered.
But it doesn’t quite excuse the lies he constructed around me, either. Like I told him, something else could’ve happened to me instead. He can’t know for sure that the hit-and-run driver from Tempérane is still out there, determined to get me. For all we know, the driver could’ve fallen into a ditch and broken his neck. At the same time, I understand Tony’s fear and guilt better now.
And I don’t want him to experience the pain of my untimely “death” again. I vow I’ll never do anything to jeopardize my safety—if not for my own sake, then for his.
