Page 23 of Ruthless Desires, Vol. Two (Ruthless Desires Series Extended Editions #2)

Wren

Rhett’s hands aren’t shaking.

Is it because he’s gripping the steering wheel so tightly that they can’t shake? Maybe.

His jaw is set, and his posture is perfect, like he’s a child being inspected by a judgmental, nitpicky aunt. When I reach across the console and place my hand on his thigh, he winces. I immediately pull away.

“I’m sorry,”

he says quietly. Somehow, he grasps the steering wheel even tighter.

“It’s not you.”

I figured as much, but the clarification still helps me breathe easier. As he makes a left turn, I sneak a better glance at him. He may not be able to sleep, but he looks so worn down. My first instinct is to give him some type of comfort, but I don’t know what to do since he can’t handle being touched right now.

We end up driving in silence for a half hour before Rhett pulls onto a road that looks like it leads into a private neighborhood. He stops at a gate and has to type in a PIN before we’re able to get inside.

“Finn’s safe house is in a gated community?”

I ask as the gate automatically closes behind us. A few large houses come into view along with their pristine lawns and gardens.

Rhett throws me a surprised glance.

“Thought you passed out.”

“Not even close.”

Long car rides tend to put me to sleep, sure. But stress makes me panicky whenever I get tired enough to stop thinking logically. Panic means no sleep. Eventually, my body gives in, but then the nightmares hit. It’s a miserable, endless cycle that I’ve never figured out how to break.

“We’ll get to Finn’s eventually,”

Rhett says as he weaves through the quiet streets.

“First, I need to show you something. And… do some explaining.”

Eventually, Rhett pulls over and slows to a stop. In a fluid motion, he puts the truck in park and turns off the headlights. I’m not sure where we are or why we’re here, but I get the feeling it means a lot to Rhett.

“Richard built a whole separate life and kept it from us.”

His voice is hoarse, and I can tell he’s trying to hide it, but some resentment bleeds through.

“After Sammy died and I moved in with Elliot’s family, I never looked back. Never looked him up to see how he was doing. If I didn’t know, then I could assume he was miserable. I was dealing with enough anger. So on the off chance that he’d moved on, I didn’t want to know.”

A concerned sound escapes my throat, but other than that, I stay silent. I don’t want to distract him.

“I don’t want to see him again,”

Rhett continues.

“I don’t want those old feelings to come back. It’s already difficult enough to deal with the memories. But now… having two brothers changes everything.

“When we found out about Andrew and Benny, it was like something inside me snapped. All of a sudden, the dread I’ve felt whenever I thought of facing my father again… it disappeared. I need the boys to be safe from Ludo, but I need them safe from Richard as well. Once this is all done, we have to find a way to keep Benny from him, legally or otherwise. I can’t let the abuse continue.”

This whole time, Rhett has been staring straight ahead. Now he nods to the house across the street. It may be dark, but the street lamps illuminate enough. It’s huge.

“That’s his house?” I ask.

“His and Corinne’s. That’s his new wife.”

At that, he lets out a harsh breath and shakes his head.

“New wife. They’ve been together since before Andrew was born. That’s twenty years—and who knows how long they were having an affair before she got pregnant. Fucking bastard.”

“Wait.”

I sit up in my seat.

“Why are we here?”

Rhett’s smile is almost regretful.

“We’re not here to kill him. I just wanted to see what he’s built. And I need you to still trust me after tonight.”

A wave of unease passes through me.

“What do you mean?”

“I need you to understand why I’m doing what I’m doing tonight. And I need you to know what I’ll never do, no matter how angry I get.”

“W… what?”

“It’ll make sense soon. Just let me explain.”

I watch him silently as he braces himself. My heart is in my throat as he starts talking.

“I was an accident. My dad was in medical school when my mom found out she was pregnant. Long story short, Richard had to drop out of school to support us. He ended up with no degree and a pile of student loans.

“Obviously, I don’t remember my infancy, but my mom told me it was hard. My dad was working multiple jobs, and she was trying to help out, but someone had to watch me.

“I think that’s where Richard’s problems with me began. He didn’t want a kid. And not only did he get one, but he had to sacrifice his career for me. Over the years, his resentment grew into hatred.”

Here, Rhett pauses. He’s breathing heavily, and his hands are clenched in his lap.

“Rhett…”

“I’m okay.”

He rubs his face.

“You need to know all of this.”

It takes him a while to find his composure again. I’m about to suggest we put some distance between us and his dad’s house when he finds the strength to keep going.

“From what I remember, it started out with him having unreasonably high expectations of me. Whenever I didn’t meet those expectations, he treated it like a moral failing on my part. He used to tell me there was no good in me. I was seven the first time he said it. Fucking seven.”

My blood runs cold. Seven years old. Such a vulnerable, tender age. And to be told that there’s no good in you? There’s no knowing how much damage that could cause.

“Kids aren’t supposed to think about killing themselves,”

Rhett continues quietly.

“But I did. Every fucking day. Wondered what it would be like to get hit by a car and die. And then wondered if I could time it right, you know? Throwing myself in front of one before the driver would have enough time to slow down or swerve.”

My chest aches as I blink back tears. This isn’t the time to cry. I have no desire to derail Rhett from opening up about his childhood.

“Richard was horrible to me. But… somehow, through all of that, I think he still loved me. It was a selfish type of love, so maybe it’s not really love at all. Maybe it’s closer to a sense of entitlement.”

“Entitlement?”

“He still expected me to love him. Still expected me to care about what he thought. And I did, dammit. I cared for so much longer than I should’ve.”

“You were a kid,”

I murmur, unsure of what else to say. It doesn’t matter because he’s not done.

“Any time I did something wrong, he’d…”

Rhett’s eyes slide closed. His voice is weighed down with a misplaced shame that sends a tangible pain shooting through me.

“He’d make me get on my knees and beg him for forgiveness. I’ve never been able to shake the way it made me feel,”

he says.

“Having him tower over me like that made me feel so small. So pathetic.

“Maybe he was trying to feel some type of power when life had royally fucked him over. I don’t know. But he never let anything slide, even if it meant I had to beg for his forgiveness every day. Once he finally gave it to me, he always expected me to hug him and tell him I loved him. If I tried to avoid it, he’d force me into it.

“To this day, I still don’t understand why. The best that I can think of is that deep down, he knew how shitty he was being. But if I did those things, if I showed him affection and love like that, then he could justify it in his head. How could he be abusive if his kid still loved him, you know?”

There’s a moment of silence, and Rhett sniffles. All I want to do is hold him and tell him that Richard was wrong. That nothing could ever justify his actions. But the last thing I want to do is hurt Rhett more.

“Did your mom know?” I ask.

“She was only peripherally aware of what Richard did to me. He hid a lot from her, although he was horrible to her, too. But a lot of times, he’d do things out of earshot or while she was working or running errands.

“She tried to combat the damage he inflicted, but she didn’t know how deeply it all ran. Or maybe she did, I don’t know. I remember coming home from school one day to her crying at the kitchen table. It looked like she’d added up the income she made from her part-time job. I remember she got a better job after that, but it barely paid more. I think she was trying to leave. She just… couldn’t.”

I stare at him in shocked silence. I wasn’t sure what happened in Rhett’s childhood, but this… my god. Everything makes so much more sense now. His aversions to touch and vulnerability, his struggles with saying he loves us, his avoidance to kneeling for anyone. I think he’s only done that a handful of times since I’ve known him.

“At some point,”

Rhett says, “my dad went back and finished medical school. He married Corinne, built this damned house, and had Benny. It’s like we never existed, Wren. He’s completely forgotten about Mom and Sam. And me … I may still be alive, but I’m a symbol of his past failures. I’m the thing that ruined his life.

“I just have so many questions, you know? He didn’t want kids. So was Andrew an accident? Or maybe I’m wrong, and he just didn’t want us. But if that’s true, why does it sound like he’s been treating the boys the same way he treated me? Why has he achieved the life he wanted—”

Rhett gestures to the house, “—but he’s still an asshole? How could he abandon us when we needed him the most? And how the hell am I supposed to get answers when I can’t face him again?”

Can’t. My mind snags on that word. Rhett is strong. Powerful. More than that, he’s determined to get revenge on Ludo. But the way I see it, Richard’s neglect also played a part in Sammy’s death, so I don’t understand why Rhett doesn’t want to kill him as well as Ludo.

Unless…

No. There’s no way Rhett could be afraid of him.

“I’m so angry, Wren,”

he says, and his voice is so heavy.

“There’s not a moment that I’m not consumed with it. The hate.”

For the first time since we got into the truck, he turns his head and looks at me.

“And what I’m about to do… it might change the way you look at me. But I need you to know that you never have to be afraid of me.”

“Rhett, I could never—”

“No. You don’t know that. You don’t…”

He releases a short, frustrated breath.

“Richard was never physically abusive, but he still got violent. He’d throw things or punch a wall or kick at the furniture. None of us ever got hit, but I’ll never forget the look of absolute terror in my mom’s eyes whenever he pulled that shit. And the first time he did it in front of Sammy, she burst into tears and ran outside.”

Dread pools in my stomach. I know the feeling he’s talking about.

“I don’t lash out randomly,”

Rhett says, his eyes still locked with mine.

“I’ve never hurt Ell. I’ve never hurt Oliver. And I will never, ever hurt you, Wren.”

“I know that,”

I whisper.

“You know that now.”

After a moment of hesitation, he reaches out to cup my cheek. And his eyes—it’s like he’s looking into my mind, and he can see every curious, cautious thought.

“But you’ve never seen me unleash all my anger. You’ve never seen me take it out on something. Or someone.”

“I suppose that’s true,”

I say.

“But that’s what I’m ultimately helping you do, isn’t it? You’re not killing Ludo because he’s a horrible person. You’re killing him for revenge. He took Sammy away from you, and you’re angry. More than angry.”

His thumb brushes over my cheek before he retracts his hand.

“Yes. But you’ve never seen me do it, Wren. I’m not gonna punch this guy a few times and then go home. By the time I’m done, you won’t be able to recognize him. It’ll be brutal, sweetheart.”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m aware that I probably shouldn’t be attracted to someone who has to turn to murder to manage his anger. But can I really blame him after all he’s been through?

As the reality of the situation settles on my shoulders, I swallow hard.

“Just tell me he deserves it.”

“He does. I wouldn’t torture an innocent person.”

He searches my face, probably looking for any trace of hesitation.

“I can’t tell you exactly what he did. It’s Finn’s business, and he’ll explain it all to you when he’s ready. But he’s not a good person.”

“Then I’m sure I can handle it.”

I’m not, but I have to try.

“If it gets to be too much, I can step away.”

He nods.

“And you… you understand? That I know how to control my anger? That I’ll never take it out on you?”

“I understand.”

There’s a beat of silence before he tears his eyes from mine. He puts the truck into drive.

“Then we’d better get going.”