Page 237 of Severed Heart

Turning on a dime, I stalk toward him, done with the hand-holding. “You want to go blow for blow? Think it will make you feel better?” I stop short of his desk. “We both know it won’t, but today, I’m fucking up for it, you fucking prick. So, say the word.”

He tilts his head, eyes filling with concern as I jerk my chin.

“Save it. Don’t play big brother right now. You’re not the one who just fucking flew across Charlotte to watch you implode.”

“I’m not,” he denies.

“You are, and every single bit of what you’re feeling right now is on you, and you know it.”

“She’ll die,” he whispers fearfully.

“She might,” I agree, “and that’s the chance we all take when we get inked. Youinked her, you dumb bastard. But while we’ve been mopping up our mess, she’s been embracing that ink—earning it. You know as well as I do that we can talk club safety all night, but we both know there’s no fucking guarantee and never will be. We learned that the hard way. But that was years ago, and now you’re standing behind excuses that are becoming less and less relevant while still playing the fucking martyr with your broken heart.” Annoyed, I stare him down as the last of my patience starts to thin. “Look, sulk, cry, whine, and continue to remain in denial, but your lack of future with her is completely your fucking decision and less about her safety at this point.”

“She won’t forgive me.”

“She’s not a young tender anymore, Tobias. She’s a goddamn force to be reckoned with, and my money is that she’ll give you the hell you deserve before you get to glimpse the peace you found with her again. You were willing to risk losing your brothers over her, so what is the risk now?”

“Her fucking life!”

“That’s your PTSD talking,” I counter.

“Fuck you.”

“You were hurt, bad, and almost died, and it scared you and only reinforced your decision to keep her away, but you’re still breathing, and so is she. The coast is as clear as it’s going to get, and you know all too fucking well she’s starting to stack enemies of her own. Now more than ever, she needs your protection.”

“She has it.”

“No, she hasmine,” I draw out, “which is better than yours, but it’s not mine she wants.” Done with the conversation, I glance back at the door. “Look, go to her, or don’t, but this is it. I’ve watched you get up from concrete you shouldn’t have been able to grow roots from, but you did.”

“I can’t watch her die,” he finally admits.

“You’re dying watching her fucking live without you, brother. The thing is ... I know you’ll eventually go to her, whether it’s today or a dozen years from now. But what my gut tells me now is that there’s a chance she’ll still be there for you, though I have and have had a feeling that the clock is ticking out. This engagement only proves as much. A woman like Cecelia—with a heart like hers—you and I both know she won’t let it wither. One day, she will succeed in finding someone to help her put it to use, even if it isn’t Collin. She’s not going to waste much more of it on you. Do what you will, but you know I’m right.”

Stalking over to the door, knowing I’ve done and said all I can for my brother, I slam the door behind me.

* * *

US PRESIDENT: PRESTON J MONROE | 2021 -2029

FALL 2021

BLINK.

Chest heaving due to exertion, I toss away the last of the brush before getting into the cab of the backhoe. With no choice but to look at the house standing twenty feet in front of me, I finally face it head-on. An immediate vision of Delphine on the porch, watering can in hand, flits to mind. The hem of her sundress catching on the breeze, blowing around her, along with wisps of her long, black hair as she glances my way, her lips curving up due to my arrival. Just after, the feel of our connection when our eyes met and held through my windshield.

The late summer sun beams down, and I clear the sweat from my brow with the exposed part of my wrist beneath my work gloves as I swallow down that vision. In vain, because a second later, it’s promptly replaced by another. Zach manning the grill as Delphine chatted to him from where she sat at the porch swing while I chopped wood. I can still see them so clearly—comfortable, smiling, content. That image brings the ache back tenfold, the loss of it crippling.

The facts are, once upon a short time ago, and only briefly, I had a family. A family I didn’t try or petition for but came together naturally—a gift. A gift that was promptly snatched right back like a favorite toy in cruel taunt.

“Christ,” I rasp out as I put the backhoe into gear and lower the bucket, fury driving me on as I head in the direction of the small house she made a home, intent on erasing it.

It’s the speeding car on the road next to me blurring into my periphery that has me halting the demolition and kicking back in the bucket seat to weigh going through with it.

Seconds later, Tobias pulls up right next to me, our eyes meeting from where I sit a few feet above in the tractor to his driver’s seat. I know the second he glances toward the house and back at me that he’s reading my intent, and I mutter a curse before exiting.

Sighing as he exits his newest Jag, I lean against the tractor as he approaches, noticing that the usual confidence in his gait is completely absent, and I know why. Right now, we’re in the same type of hell.

Two months after Tobias summoned Cecelia with an email to buy Horner Tech, Cecelia came, fought the good fight, and went. To her utter detriment, Tobias did everything he could to see her out the door. Despite my warnings and her attempts to salvage them, his fear won out. It’s apparent it’s winning now as he approaches me, eyeing me intently.