I tried avoiding them, tried patching them, and tried filling them with happiness. But the worry overpowered all my efforts, spurting through and shooting my happiness straight out of the boat.
I was sinking now, drowning in fear at being with someone who could hurt me as much as seeing him kiss Izzy had. Then there was guilt at feeling that fear, at feeling the depression when I really didn’t have such a bad life.
That one practically suffocated me, the guilt so intense I could barely breathe even when I had oxygen everywhere around me. Just like I had everything I wanted around me too. A good family. Friends. A man who really loved me. A twin sister willing to fight for us even though she was in love with him too.
She’d apologized for kissing him and cried. I’d held her hand while she did because that’s what sisters do.
I knew her pain. Losing Dante wasn’t for the weak of heart.
Even with the knowledge that they were never going to be together, that she couldn’t love a man who didn’t love her like she thought he loved me, I wasn’t sure I would be able to commit to him.
The pain that shot through me at seeing another woman’s lips on his was enough to let me know I couldn’t handle it if I really did lose him. I wouldn’t be able to move on. I’d be lost at sea, no one there to save me, because I didn’t know how to save myself from that heartbreak.
Except my wolf was going to cross a fucking ocean of my worries and depression before he’d let me go that easy.
“Your home is right here with me,” he grumbled as he started driving out to his family’s farm.
When I was younger, and even into college, I hadn’t questioned why his mother had all that land. “Did your dad buy your mom this farm?”
“Sure.” He shrugged as he stared out at it. “Or maybe he stole it from someone or made them sign it over. Never really looked into it.”
“Have you ever looked into him or wanted to get to know more about him?”
“Not anymore. I got his name, and that’s about all I need from him. The rest is dead and gone. No point in dwelling on what can’t be.”
I nodded. His words held more meaning than he probably realized. “You’ve come to terms with that. Can you come to terms with what can’t be between us?”
“Lilah.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I almost lost you, Little Lamb. I held your hand, and the fire between us was so damn small—you know what that feels like? To have someone you love almost dead in your grasp, no way to bring them back?”
I pictured him on a battlefield because his eyes were far away as he said the words. I knew there were things he’d never tell me, war stories, mob stories, heart-wrenching ones. “I’m sorry I put you through that, especially if you’ve had to go through it before.”
He slammed his hand on the wheel. “Shit, I put you through it and myself. Your brother is right. I should never have dragged either of you into this.”
I shrugged and stared out at the sunset over the hills. “You wouldn’t have been able to make me leave.”
“Beautiful, smart, and stubborn,” he grumbled as we turned toward the big red barn. “You remind me of one of my mom’s horses, even though you’ll always be my little lamb.”
We pulled into his driveway and followed it around to the back of the house, out about another acre. The land was lush with green grass and rolling hills. A couple of horses gathered near a hay bale, and the gravel crunched under the tires, making a few cows moo.
He turned toward the big red barn we used to go to when an animal was in distress.
“Is she sick? The horse?” I asked.
“Sort of.”
Dante turned off the ignition, and we sat there for a minute before leaving the car. He breathed in deep, and his hand was on his abs for about two seconds before he dragged his gaze up to mine. Pain and hunger and determination swam in his eyes. “I’m going to show you Autumn in that stable, and we’re going to work out what is between us in there too.”
“I don’t think we can have anything between us. Not after what we’ve been through. Not after seeing you let another woman kiss you, and not after how my heart felt about it.” It was anger and pain and regret all mixed in my tone.
“Lamb, don’t even try to do that today. I’m not in the mood.” He opened his door and slammed it. I watched him stare up at the sky, pull on his neck, and swear once or twice before he rounded the hood of the car and came to open my door.
“Do you need me to carry you?” His green eyes trailed up and down my body and then stalled at my head, like he was trying to figure out if the brain trauma had healed.