Page 35 of What’s Left of You (What Left #2)

I’m guessing it’s disorienting, waking up here with the two of us after dealing with Porscha so long. Hours have passed, and we’re nearing the break of dawn.

Slowly, he lowers his hands, his eyes never leaving hers. “Jo.”

She shrugs off my arm but I keep my eyes on him as she steps closer.

Alastair might be a killer, but there isn’t a single soul I won’t kill when it comes to Jo.

It could turn ugly in an instant if he decides to turn against us, and she doesn’t need to be caught between two killers.

I turned away from that life of violence a long time ago.

Instead, Alastair reaches up and cups her cheek, a shaky breath leaving her lips.

His voice is a little scratchy when he speaks, but the words are unmistakable.

“I wrote to you for years hoping for a word, and now I finally get to touch you. I suppose the years of silence were worth it for the chance to do this.”

She smiles, her eyes glassy again. Sinking down, she sits on the edge of the old sofa, but there isn’t a lot of room to work with. Her eyes move around his face, and it’s quiet for several moments as they stare at each other.

Then her hand draws back, and she smacks him hard enough across the face that his head snaps around. My brows lift as I watch, thinking of how she delivered the same sort of slap to me not that long ago.

“Anything you wrote in those letters,” she says, “couldn’t justify the last time we were together. Scared, confused, it doesn’t matter. You chose to hurt me.”

He turns back to face her, but nothing in his expression changes.

It’s not exactly cold, but he looks like he’s acknowledging the truth in her words.

“When we’re the happiest, we’re also the most careless.

I thought I could leave my demons behind in Citrus Grove, but that’s not true.

They followed me for all of these years, and even if you didn’t die, you’re my biggest regret.

The moment I saw you with Porscha I should’ve killed her instead of helping her hurt you. ”

Jo steps back at the same time I move forward and growl at him, putting more space between the two of them. “What are you talking about?”

Alastair shrugs, his eyes unable to focus on just one of us.

Jo’s fingers dig into my shoulder. “Porscha. I didn’t bring you back to the hideout, Jo, even if that’s what I said in the report.

You were already there when I arrived, and Porscha gave me an injection like usual.

I stopped worrying about who you were until I saw your face. ”

She pushes on my shoulder, but I don’t move out of her way.

Alastair’s eyes shift to me, and his apology might be to Jo but he has to contend with me too.

Sorry or not, I picked up the pieces he left behind when the truth came out and Jo was left broken.

He went to prison to pay for the crimes he may or may not be fully at fault for, but he wasn’t around to mend what he broke.

I can’t love him the same way ever again.

Maybe there’s pieces of who he used to be still hiding in there, but he can spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to her for the hurt he caused but it still won’t be enough.

All the love he has left should belong to her, and I’ll accept no excuses from him if he tries to deny that.

Mistaken, misled, it doesn’t matter. If he’s admitting, again, to putting the blade in her skin then she shouldn’t accept his apology.

When he speaks again he’s looking at me, but his words are for Jo.

“I’ve thought about those scars I gave you for years.

Hurting you is my biggest regret, and the mistake that haunts me the most. I remember where each scar was as she cut you apart, because it’s the only pattern I’ve cared to remember.

Each of the wounds cut me too, and I was a coward for not doing more to save you. ”

Jo steps around me, and my eyes drop to study the back of her head. It feels like she’s blocking him from me, and I don’t understand why she has to stand so close to danger like this. I’m still not convinced we can trust him.

I grip her waist, fanning my fingers across her waist. “We should be careful, darling. Time is running out. There’s no way they won’t figure out where we are soon.”

She nods. “We assume the FBI will come knocking sooner than later. We didn’t tell anyone the plan to come out here, but if we’re missing and so are you…”

Alastair chuckles, and the sound snaps some of the tension between the three of us. For a moment it's like being back in high school, the three of us ready to face the world if it means we can be together.

But when I meet his eyes, we both know that’s not what’s going to happen.

Our time together is limited to the minutes we have left in this room, and then the law will rip us apart again.

As much as I hate him for hurting Jo, fifteen years and a lot of trauma later taught me that his reasons were justified in his own mind.

He thought the decisions he made were the only ones he could, and although he hasn’t spelled it out for me yet, he did take Jo out of the cellar before it collapsed and killed her.

He reaches out, not to her face but to her arms, where the short sleeves reveal the scars left behind. His thumb drags over one on the side, and he’s transfixed looking at it. “You are so beautiful, Jo. Scars included. They’ve become a part of who you are.”

She snorts, but it sounds pained. “I did a shit job on your leg, so you’ll have a scar. Are you going to call that beauty, too?”

Alastair blinks, glancing down for the first time like he forgot about the wound. He reaches down, tracing over the edge of the bandage. “I tortured you in a cellar and you healed me. How unjust is that?”

“I never meant to do you harm,” she says tightly. “You chose to harm me.”

He winces, and I wish the jab cut deeper.

Hurt more. There’s no way we’re going to dive deep into the past as time shrivels away.

He seems to know it too, because he just shakes his head instead of continuing to argue the point.

“You two gave me something to look forward to when the world felt like it had given up on me, and I returned the favor by torturing you. I can grovel for the rest of my days, but nothing will make up for that grievous mistake.”

Jo lets out a pained sigh. “We're running out of time, and you're still apologizing? Give me the rest of your life to be sorry. If I can only be with you for a short time, I want to remember what it's like to truly love you.”

She steps forward and kisses him, and I follow her lead.

I can have reservations about Alastair all I want but if she can look past him cutting her apart and give into her wants and needs right now, so can I.

We’re going to lose him again soon enough, and all the apologies will turn to nothing more than words.

This might be all we ever get. Even if I grow to hate him when the rest of the truth comes to light, this is how I want to remember the three of us; three parts of a completed puzzle.

Only… we aren't greedy anymore. There's a new person playing our game and I'm not even sure if Sterling can exist in the same room with Alastair without trying to kill him.

That’s a problem for another time.

The gun from Xeno is heavy at my hip as I push Jo’s hair to the side as she kisses him, already tugging at his shirt to try and get closer.

I nip at the skin of her neck and she twists to allow me more access to her.

One hand slides beneath her shirt, the other staying at her hip to steady her as they kiss.

She makes a little whining noise in her throat as his hands slide across her skin, copying mine over the top of her shirt as she moves between us.

This is different from the last time we were together; Jo and I can move as one, and Alastair’s been out of the picture for so long it should feel like inviting Sterling in.

But he doesn’t falter, letting Jo work the shirt up his body until she can successfully tear it over his head.

He’s the tallest of the three of us, and has to help her drag it off of him.

A sense of urgency hits all three of us, and I’m suddenly helping Jo slide the flowy pants down her legs.

We are on a deadline, and we don’t know how much time we have left.

Someone could interrupt, and things would be a million times worse if Jo and I are caught fucking Alastair while he’s on the run from the law.

But when Jo moans, arching into his touch, all the problems between us melt away. If we can never have each other again, we have to savor the moment.

Jo’s busy undressing Alastair as I undress her, and one of her hands reaches back for my belt to help. I push her hand away and she protests, twisting out of the kiss as he helps me throw her pants to one side. Like always, she has nothing on beneath and only a bra remains in the way.

“You first, Trauma,” I tell her, her eyes hooded and dark with lust.

She doesn’t protest, turning from me to shove Alastair.

He stumbles back into the couch, and she’s already partway tugged his pants down.

Now she spends a moment to work them the rest of the way off, mindful of his hip.

I reach for my wallet, digging out the only condom I have on hand, when she gasps.

“Your leg,” she breathes. “It keeps reopening. I’ll get the bandages-”

“Jo,” he interrupts, yanking her back towards the couch, “if there’s one thing I’m willing to bleed for, it’s this.”

He yanks down his boxers, and his cock springs free. I can hear her gasp as I stand just behind her, undoing the bra while she’s distracted.

Prison somehow made him more handsome, and I go back to massaging her breasts as he palms his cock, watching his movements over her shoulder.

His muscles are defined, and even weeks of being trapped God knows where doesn’t seem to have changed his body that much.

He groans as he sits on the couch watching us, and I kick Jo’s legs farther apart with my foot.

She leans back against me as I spread her, Alastair’s eyes darkening again as he watches.

He’s transfixed on her body as I tease her clit, and she throws her head back against my shoulder.

I nod to him as I play with her, tossing the condom in his direction.

He catches it with ease, concerns with the bleeding wound fading to nothing as he watches us.

I turn and brush my lips against her neck, speaking so only she can hear. “Tell me your safe word, darling, so we can end this if it's too much.”

Jo shakes her head against me, squirming when I tease along her lips with a finger instead of sliding inside. “Scars.”

“Good girl,” I tell her, kissing the shell of her ear before pulling back. “Now remind him why he still worships you.”