Split(86)

“No.”

“No, of course you don’t.” He shuffles closer, but I keep my head down. “Sucks your mom got sick and died, but don’t expect an ounce of sympathy from me. At least you had a mom who didn’t make it her f*cking joy in life to torture you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how bad—”

“You wanna know?” His voice is at my ear, so close his heated breath is at my neck. “You really wanna know if I killed my family? Can you handle the truth of my life, Shyann?!”

I turn my head from his shouting and ask myself the same question. Can I? Can I handle any more of his truths?

“Y-yes.”

He moans low and ends on a deep chuckle. “So brave, my Shy Ann.” He wraps his hand around my ponytail and pulls my head back gently, but so far my neck strains at the angle. His lips move to my throat and he glides his tongue from my collarbone to my ear, slow and deliberate. “Mmm . . . I can taste your fear.”

I squeeze my eyes closed and pray for courage. “I’m not afraid of you.” My voice shakes as he continues the gentle assault of my throat with his lips. “I’m afraid for you.”

His mouth freezes at my neck and his hand shakes where he’s holding my hair, not a tremor of anxiety but of barely controlled rage. “Don’t be afraid for me, baby. You want the truth, you got it.” His breath is like fire ghosting my ear. “Yes, I killed my whore mother.”

I suck in a breath, but blow it out just as quickly.

“Happy now?” He chuckles and releases my head. “You gonna run, Shy?”

I twist my shoulders to see him, his stance rigid and ready to pounce. My eyes heat, but not with tears. With a furious possession and fiery anger that I’ve never felt before. Abusing her own babies, blaming innocence for the crimes of the guilty, making them literally eat shit.

A slow grin curls my lips and with his eyes narrowing on my mouth, he pales. “No, I’m not gonna run.” I push up and stand and for the first time ever I see a flicker of fear in Gage’s eyes. “Am I happy?” I take a step toward him and his hands fist at his sides. “Can you handle my truth, Gage?”

He doesn’t answer verbally, but tilts his head. Good enough.

“The bitch deserved to die, and who better to deliver her eternity in hell than you.”





GAGE


Never in my life have I been shocked senseless.

I’ve seen things, bore witness to the torture of children, experienced pain and mental abuse no human could fathom. Been cast out, treated as trash and spit upon by the one person in the world who is supposed to protect me.

I never lost my head, never struggled for ways to fight back. Always remained in control. But as I stare wide-eyed into the hateful glare of the woman before me, I’m stupid.

Completely incapable of a response.

Not only does she not hate me, judge me, or at the very least pity me . . . but she also supports me. The concept in itself is insane. Women like Shyann, her big heart and tender soul, should see me as a plague. Run for her life and never look back. The fact that she doesn’t strips me raw and leaves me exposed.

“Tell me the rest of the story, Gage.” She stalks toward me and I suck in a breath. “The part only you know. The part you never wanted Lucas to find out about.”

“I . . . I can’t.” Fuck, I sound like a *.

She moves closer. “Did she kill your brothers and sister?”

Flashes of black blast behind my eyes and helplessness fills my chest.

I hold up my hand to stop her advancing both physically and with her words. “Stop!”

Her beautiful eyes narrow. “You were there; you would take over to protect Lucas. That day must’ve been worse than the others. Where’d the gun come from?”

I pinch my eyes closed, fighting the black. “I don’t . . . I can’t . . .”

“You can trust me. On some level you know you can. Don’t fight it. Talk to me.”

Tunnel vision squeezes in. I get dizzy and I squat to cradle my head. “Don’t understand what you’re doing, just . . . stop.” I press on my temples in an attempt to push back the impending darkness.

“What happened the day you killed your mother, Gage? Tell me!”

A pathetic cry slides from my throat.

The curtain falls.





THIRTY



SHYANN


Gage snapped.

One moment he was there and the next his eyes slid closed and his muscles went slack. I wrap my arms around him, unsure of who I’m holding.

I attempt to comfort the man in my arms, his big body leaning against me as if he’s lost all his strength. Lost his fight. My chest aches, my heart completely annihilated for this horribly broken boy.

Three words blare in my head as sure as my own name.

I love them.

Both of them.

God, and isn’t that what they’ve been missing their entire lives? It’s the absence of love that makes them guarded. The idea that they aren’t worthy of unconditional affection that holds them back. With every part of my being, I want to fix that, to prove to them that they’re exceptional. I don’t want to fix them, get Lucas help with the intent of ridding him of Gage; that would only confirm what they already believe. What they need is to believe their worth not for who and what they could become, but for exactly who they already are.