Sebastian might be her father by blood, but he doesn’t fucking deserve her.
I don’t either, but at least I was there. Shouldn’t that count for anything?
“Take me to the land where sinners atone,” I whisper without thinking, to no one in particular, “where sinners have second chances.”
“I’m not sure such a land exists.” The softly spoken words from behind me freeze me, and I look over my shoulder to see Phoenix standing in the doorway of the balcony, still wearing her evening dress, although she’s barefoot as well. “I would have gone there a long time ago.” Her face is clean of any makeup, so she must have washed it.
She steps onto the balcony, softly padding toward me, but I don’t dare move. She might burst into flames just like her namesake does. “You have no sins to atone for,” I reply, my voice so low it’s a wonder I can speak at all.
“I thought I did,” she whispers. “Sitting in that cell day and night, I wished for the land where sinners atone where no one judges you for your past sins and instead gives you a chance to make everything right.”
“And where pain doesn’t exist?”
She smiles sadly, leaning on the railing next to me, yet keeping a space between us as she gazes into the distance. “I think pain exists everywhere. That’s what makes us human.” The harsh wind blows her hair back, and she inhales the freshness into her lungs. “You know how they say that true hell exists here on earth and not below us?”
Still confused with her presence here after what transpired earlier, I answer, “Yes. It’s a theory that earth was once heaven, but we ruined it.”
“I think the land where sinners atone is here. But we just can’t see it, blinded by the pain.” She turns her head so our gazes clash, her brown eyes shimmering under the moonlight. “The agony is so strong we dream about a mythical place where everything will be different. Where we can atone without scrutiny. However, it doesn’t exist. We live our lives only once. We live it here. And we can atone only here,” she says and then adds, “no matter how depressing that is.”
“Depressing is not a word I would have used under the current circumstances.”
The silence filters around us as we both gaze into the sky. The hooting of the owls echo in the night, mixing with the chirping of the crickets.
I can physically feel Phoenix’s pain, and my insides scream for me to wrap my arms around her, to let her find solace in my arms, yet my arms are the one place she doesn’t want to be.
Did she come to tell me she packed all their things and is taking them both away from me, leaving me alone in this fucking huge house that is meaningless without my daughter in it?
Without her in it?
“I fell in love with Sebastian slowly,” she starts, her voice even as if she is talking about someone else. “At first, we became friends. For about two years. I’ve dated other guys, but it didn't click with anyone.” A sad smile lifts the corner of her mouth before she rests her elbows on the banister. “Until one day he showed up on my doorstep and offered for us to try.” My hands tighten on the railing, despite knowing I have no right to be jealous of the past when I’ve been married myself, but listening to her loving someone else, being with someone else… doesn’t bring out the best in me.
I wish she had been no one else’s but mine, even if it’s irrational.
“No one ever loved me before him.” She shrugs. “He taught me what family is and how to trust a person. I basked in those emotions, learning that love is the calm during the storm. No matter what happens, at the end of the day, this person will be with you.” A beat passes. “We were unbreakable. Until the unsub happened.” She wipes away the tear sliding down her cheek. “Until you happened. And the love I cherished vanished in the blink of an eye.”
Everything in me screams to scoop her into my arms, to soothe the pain eating her from the inside out because of me, and in this moment, no matter how the idea hurts me, I wish she would have never met me.
Never have crossed paths with that unsub.
I wouldn't have Emmaline then, but also the woman I fell in love with despite my better judgment would have never been hurt in the most despicable ways.
That’s what it is, right?
Love in its rawest form, love that can never be called beautiful for how ugly it is.
For if a man loves a woman, does he hurt her so much she no longer wants to live?
Unfortunately, I don’t have an answer to that question.
When Angelica died, I couldn't imagine loving anyone else; opening myself up to such pain was laughable, but here I am.
Standing in front of a woman I should have never fallen for, with a bleeding heart ready for her to destroy even further.
She has every right to do it and never look back at me.
“Phoenix,” I say, ready to apologize all over again and promise her freedom and anything else she wants no matter how much it goes against everything that I am. However, if it stops her agony, I’ll do it in a heartbeat.
She spins around and places the tips of her fingers on my lips, shutting me up, and takes a deep breath with the wind blowing her hair so much it slaps me in the face. “Sebastian’s love was the only one I knew, so I thought that’s what love was supposed to be.” She shakes her head. “But it’s not true. Sometimes, love is not the calm during the storm. Sometimes, love is the ship in the storm withstanding ocean waves one after another along with the rain, in such a way you don’t know if you’ll survive it. The world around you might end at any moment, yet you are with the person you love and who stands by you no matter what. Such love reminds me more of an obsession built on lust and need. It’s not healthy. It’s probably not right either.”
“It’s impossible to resist,” I finish for her, my lips moving under her fingers, and she removes her hand. I tentatively take a step toward her until the toes of our bare feet touch. “I’m sorry for hurting you.” She tilts her head back, and I put my hands on her shoulders. She jerks but doesn't step away. So I wrap them around her tightly, pressing her to my chest where she rests her cheek, her arms at her sides. She doesn't push me away but doesn't welcome it either.
As long as she allows me to comfort her right now, that’s enough for me.
“I’m sorry for everything I’ve done.” I run my splayed palm over her back, noticing goose bumps breaking on her skin from the chilly weather. “For all the pain I’ve caused you, because I was blinded by the agony of losing Angelica.”
She whispers, “I thought you don’t apologize?”
A self-mocking smile flashes on my face. “Apparently, I do when it comes to you. But I won’t apologize for taking Emmaline. And I know you hate me for it.”
She sighs heavily, her breath puffing and warming my skin, and I close my eyes, resting my chin on top of her head, and inhale her familiar lavender scent that calms parts of me that I thought were untamable.
We stay silent for a while as I rock her back and forth, enjoying these last moments of her in my arms where the world is right with my daughter sleeping in her room. Where both my girls live with me and under my protection. The killer might be on the loose, but he won’t come to my domain.