Page 6 of Mafia Love

“I don’t hate you. I never did, even when I told you I did.” Those were some of my last words I’d said to him before I left years ago. I’d told him I hated him, and then begged him to let me go. “I never hated you, and maybe I hated that I couldn’t.”

“I wish I had all those years back to make it up to you.”

“Dad, don’t, just… we can’t live in regret. We both lost a lot, but we have now.” That was me sounding a lot stronger than I really felt.

I squeezed his hand and continued to hold the tears back in.

The door opened, and Luc came in.

I couldn’t help it; my body moved to him before I could even register what I did. I moved straight into his awaiting arms, where he held me and lulled me into the safe haven of him.

“Take her, take her and take care. I’m okay,” Dad said.

Luc ran his hand over the top of my head and kissed my forehead.

* * *

Luc took me to my room, sat me down on the bed, and looked around the place first before joining me.

He took both my hands into his and looked straight into my eyes. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Luc look so stern. Normally, there was an opening in the hardness he displayed. It was the place where I could reach him. Felt like it was just for me. Only for me.

“I love you,” he told me. His voice was soft and soothing, unlike the hardness in his expression and the tenseness in his jaw.

“I love you.” I would never get tired of telling him that, and I would relish the sound of him telling me too.

This time though…

This time felt different to when we said it before. Only the other night, my heart couldn’t have felt more joy, and my soul soared through to the heavens at the declaration of this man’s love.

This time when he said it, I felt that air of change again. The same change I’d felt before I found out who he really was.

Things were going to change again, and not for the good.

“I…” I didn’t know what to say to him. There was so much to say, but where did I begin? With the stab of betrayal I felt knowing Jefferson and Holloway would have fed me to the lions for money? The sting, the poisonous sting of hurt that coursed through me as I listened to Jefferson tell me how this fucking plan rolled out?

Or should I talk about how I felt now, knowing they were both dead?

“I saw you dance today.” He smiled and rubbed his thumb over the top of my hands, which looked so small in his.

This was so unlike what I thought we’d talk about, but this man knew me. He knew how to reach me.

“You did.” I blinked several times, still trying to hold the tears back.

“You were amazing. You never cease to amaze me.” He released my hand to brush the underside of my cheek. “I love you for that. I’ve never said those words to anyone. Just my mom, who never deserved to hear it.”

I searched his eyes and felt the love he spoke of even more.

“Me neither. I’ve never said those words to anyone either, just my parents.”

“No?” The hint of a smile that flickered across his face broke through to that place I could reach.

“Just you.”

“So, I guess that’s settled then. I’m more than the dog with mange.”

Just like the first time when he joked about that I felt bad at the comparison. He thought my feelings for him were comparable to what you’d feel if your dog had manage. You can’t stand the sight of it but you love it enough to keep around.

I sucked in a breath and held on to it, still trying to hold the tears in. “You aren’t like a dog with mange. I always knew how I felt about you, and it didn’t matter who you were.”