“Franz, I’m going to unpack a few things. We’ll have snacks soon.”
He ignored me. Why wouldn’t he? His new BFF, aka Uncle Graham, dropped a pretty penny on a roomful of toys. I questioned if we’d be able to coerce him out of the house to play on the beach.
When Ronin saw me step into the hallway, he picked up Anya and the white teddy bear she hugged to her chest and followed me. I peeked right and left, stopping when I found the room with our luggage at the end of the king bed.
“This is Lila’s handbag, not mine.” I picked up the white leather shoulder bag.
Anya reached for me.
“Trade. I’ll take the bag to Lila. You get Squirmy ready for the beach.”
We made the trade, our gazes locking. I frowned, hugging her to me.
“It’s fine.” Ronin held Lila’s bag in one hand and cupped my face with his other hand, leaning forward to brush his lips over mine, pecking at them playfully. “I don’t like it either. But our kids adore our friends right now. We’ll take Graham out back and beat him up later,” he whispered.
I grinned. “I four-letter-word you so much.”
He bit my lower lip, giving it a playful tug before releasing it. “Watch it … if you open up that can of worms, you’ll regret it when we need it the most.”
On my death bed … or his. That was when I wanted to share those three words with him. I didn’t want rainy days, final straws, or the end of a rope. I wanted those words to be a final breath after a long life of showing everything. I wanted to prove to ourselves and the whole world that words were empty without the true actions to back them up.
“Go. You might have to leave it outside her door. She’s getting ready to … nap or something.”
“Okay.” He left a solid kiss on my lips and sauntered off.
My king.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ronin
I played it cool, walking that stupid line, when Graham unveiled his surprise for our kids. He ruined Christmas for the rest of their childhood. What could we possibly get them after he bought them one of everything from Santa’s workshop?
Stopping at the door to Franz’s room, I debated saying something to him, knocking out a few teeth, or simply breaking a rib or two. But his back was to me. He and Franz were on the floor building something with Legos.
“I loved building with Legos when I was young like you, Franz. I used to build little Lego people to be my friends because …” He paused his hands and sighed. “Well, I didn’t have a lot of friends when I was your age.”
“You didn’t have friends?” Franz murmured, keeping his hands busy with the Legos.
“No. But you’re much cooler than I was, so you don’t need to build friends or buy them. You have cool parents.”
Franz nodded slowly, probably not getting Graham’s point. Again, Graham made it hard to completely despise him. As much as I didn’t want to be affected by the “poor” little rich kid’s story, it made enough of an impact to keep me from saying anything, so I continued toward the other side of the house to find Lila.
All the doors were shut, so I gently knocked on each one. Evie said to just leave it outside the room, but I wanted to make sure Lila was okay. I’d had this clawing need for weeks to make sure she was fine.
“Come in.”
I received a soft response after knocking on the last door. Opening it slowly, I opened my mouth to tell her I had her bag, but I choked on the words. Lila stood at the window, her back to the door, gazing out the shutters tilted just enough to see out without letting anyone see inside the room. I should have backed out of the room as quickly as possible because she wasn’t wearing anything but a black thong—and a smattering of bruises along her back and along the curve of her ass, her winged tattoo hard to make out in the mess of bruises.
All the moments over the previous weeks of feeling jolts of pain, the skin along my back burning at times, and a general tenderness when the kids jumped on me or Evie curled her fingers into my flesh when we made love … it all made sense. Yet, at the same time it made no sense whatsoever.
“Lila …” I whispered.
She startled, whipping around with one arm covering her breasts as she reached for a blanket on the bed with her other hand. “Ronin!” She gasped, eyes wide and feral as she wrapped the blanket around her body.
My hand released her bag to the floor by my feet and I clenched my fists. “Did he do that to you?”
Her head jerked back, eyes blinking in rapid succession. “What?”
I took a few slow steps toward her. “The bruises.”
“No.” Her head whipped side to side in several hard shakes.
I wanted to demand she show me her bruises as I didn’t get a close look to inspect them, but I saw them. They were there and unmistakable.
Her fear felt tangible in that moment as clearly as our connection rang endlessly in my ears, reminding me of the rules I broke and the price I’d forever pay.
I saw them …
I couldn’t ignore the truth. As much as I wanted to welcome all kinds of doubt, it had yet to make a case.
“Lila—”
“No! It’s not what you think. It’s not what you think you feel.”
I winced. “She told you.”
Biting her lips together, she nodded.
Secrets …
They haunted me at every turn—mine, Evie’s, and I feared Lila’s might too.
“Is it true?” Pain plagued her face.
I didn’t want her to feel bad or any sort of pain for something she didn’t do … something she couldn’t control.
“Yes. But I’m fine. You’re not. The bruises, Lila. You can tell me. I can help you.” I would help her. If that meant ending Graham’s life, I would do that for her because she was my wife’s best friend. And I sure as fuck didn’t save her on that mountain only to let her husband hurt her.
Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked them away before a single one broke free. “You can’t help me.” Drawing in a shaky breath, she tightened her hold on the blanket and tipped her chin up. “It’s not Graham. And … Evie can’t know. Not ever.”
“No.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “There’s nothing you can’t tell her. She’s your friend. And so am I. Let us help.”
After a swallow, she eased her head side to side, jaw clenched, eyes hard on me. “She can’t ever know. And I’m sorry. If this…” she narrowed her eyes “…this thing you feel from me is real, I’m sorry you have to feel it. If I could prevent it, I would.”
“Prevent what?”
Her face morphed into a mask—a numb, emotionless mask. Not a wrinkle of anything to read into her thoughts, her feelings. “I have leukemia.”
Cancer.
It took me several seconds to make sense of her confession. Bruising? Maybe. Like that? It seemed unlikely.
“That’s a lot of bruising for—”
“I slipped on our marble stairs at home. Honestly, I grabbed the railing. I landed on my butt and the edges of the stairs scraped along my back. It didn’t even hurt that badly at the time. But … I swear even a firm hug can leave bruises at this point. I try to be careful.”