Hours have passed since Carter left. The smell of garlic is still fresh on my fingers as I head into the dimly lit wine cellar. With a flick and a click, the cellar lights up and a beautiful array of wine bottles shines in the light.
An easy breath leaves me at the thought of getting lost at the bottom of a bottle. One glass or two, and I’ll still have my wits with me.
But the wits can go fuck themselves tonight. I don’t know what to think or feel. I don’t know anything anymore. The memories of what once was and what I am today are playing tricks on my sanity.
I’m acutely aware of it but helpless to do anything about it. That’s the worst part.
That, and how I feel about Carter.
It’s an ever-changing relationship, but I’m fully aware of the cracked wall between us. He’s pretending it’s not there, and maybe I’m a fool to think something has changed, but I see the pain and sadness behind his eyes. He can’t hide it any longer.
He’s broken. It takes a broken soul to know one.
Even what I’ve been through in only the last twenty-four hours, pales in comparison to how broken and shattered Carter’s been for years. And I desperately want to heal him. I want to take his pain away more than I’ve ever wanted to heal myself.
Deep inside, there’s the inkling of some other part of him. If only I could show him.
The pain that claws at my heart only grows at the thought, but with a deep breath I let it all go. I don’t know what I am to him anymore. But I care for him regardless, especially after last night.
And until I know what haunts him for sure, there’s not a damn thing I can do to change anything. And so, wine it is.
I crouch down at the first row, gripping onto the steel bar of the rack and glancing at each of the labels. Pinot noir. Burgundy. Each of them. I love a good glass of red with spaghetti and Bolognese, and right now, I prefer Cabernet. The next row makes my lips curl up, for the first time in God knows how long.
I can pretend that there’s nothing wrong. I can pretend for a short moment. I’m good at doing that. At continuing to go through the motions even though deep inside, I know nothing is okay and there’s no way to right the wrongs.
The heavy bottle of dark red wine means I can have a moment. A small, seemingly insignificant moment, to simply breathe.
Well, only while I stay in the kitchen. The thought steals the happiness from my lips and as I stand, I feel my muscles tense once again. At least, until Carter comes back.
When Carter leaves, I’m scared to go anywhere other than the four rooms I’m familiar with. The den, his office, the kitchen, or his bedroom. This place is huge and I’m curious to see more of it. But his brothers are here. Somewhere. And they’re the enemy.
It’s easy to forget when I’m with Carter. He has a compelling power over me. Just being in his presence sets my body on fire and I move with him. Every step, every breath.
But the moment he’s gone, I’m so very aware of everything.
“I just need to eat, to drink…” I whisper as I flick off the light and head back with the bottle in my hand to retrieve my dinner from the kitchen island, the aroma wafting to greet me as I shut the door.
But the second I hear the door close, my heart drops at the sound of another person in the kitchen.
“Damn, this smells good,” Jase says as he walks closer to the large pot sitting next to the stove. I’ve already mixed the pasta and meat sauce. He towers over it, picking up the serving spoon and smiling down at my dinner.
My grip nearly slips on the bottle; my palms are so sweaty.
“You make enough for all of us?” he asks me with a charismatic smile.
A truly charming expression graces his face. With his stubble growing out longer than I’ve seen before, he looks different, but the similarities between him and Carter are still striking.
I can feel myself swallow before I attempt to answer him, but just the sight of him reminds me of last night. I can see him sitting in the chair to my left, smiling while my gaze drifts back to Stephan.
My heart pounds in my chest like it did last night in the shower. I can feel the anxiety and adrenaline mix and it takes everything in me to stand up straight.
“Whoa,” Jase says as the spoon hits the steel pot and he practically jogs around the island to come closer to me. As soon as I register that’s what he’s doing, I instinctively take a step back, my shoulder hitting the closed cellar door. Every time I blink, I see Stephan. Sitting at the table, glancing between Carter and me. Waiting for me to kill. Waiting for me to become a murderer.
He knew. They all knew. And they let Romano walk away.
With both hands raised, Jase widens his eyes and slows his steps, even dropping his stance a few inches and crouching down. “You look a little dizzy,” he says softly. “You already have a bottle?” he asks me and to my disbelief, a short huff of a genuine laugh leaves me.
Of course, he would think that I’m drunk and that’s why seeing him would cause me to react with significant panic.
It’s not that I saw him only last night, a few rooms away as I murdered a man who’d haunted me for years and continues to do so. It’s not that I’m still forced to stay here even though I so badly wish I could run home and hide in my room from all the terrors that plague me. My body heats with anxiety, but the knowledge that I have a grasp on the present gives me much needed strength.
He takes another step closer and I shake my head, pushing off of the door and going around Jase. One of my hands grips the neck of the bottle, the other runs through my hair. “I’m just having a moment,” I finally answer him weakly although my back is to him as I walk back to the counter where my wine glass is.
My heart races again. It won’t fucking stop. Off and on all day, it’s been like this. I need Carter. The bottle hits the counter hard and it’s only then that I risk a look over my shoulder at Jase.
Jase’s eyes are narrowed and he’s still standing where I left him. I can’t take my eyes away from his as he pins me in place with his gaze. Much like Carter does, but Jase is assessing me.
I have to give him something, but all I can think of is to answer his earlier question. Whether or not I made enough food for everyone else.
“I made the entire package, so there’s definitely enough.” With the answer coming out easily, I turn back to the wine and opener. Easily uncorking it as I talk to him although I can feel my hands start to tremble again, and my heart threatens to trot out of my chest.
“I wasn’t sure if anyone would want a plate, but I was going to save it for leftovers if not.” I can hear Jase walk back toward the pot slowly, even though he’s still assessing me. The second the wine glass is full, I lift it to my lips.
“So, wine is your therapy?” Jase asks as he stalks over to stand only a few feet from me but leans his lower back against the counter.
“We all have our vices,” I offer him and lick my lips. The sweet taste offers little aid to the chaos coursing through my blood. But his soft expression does something to me. It loosens something hard and sharp that was lodged deep inside of my chest, suffocating me.
“I get it,” he tells me, his forehead smoothing as he turns and reaches for another glass in the cabinet. “Mind if I have one?”
The shake of my head is weak, but not because I don’t want to share. I don’t mind at all, especially, if it will give me a chance to win over Jase. I remember a thought I had that feels like forever ago, a thought about using Jase to gain my freedom. Or maybe to ask for mercy for my family.
No, the shake of my head is weak because Declan joins us, striding in as if I called a meeting.
Jase stands beside me, glass in hand as Declan takes Jase’s former spot, repeating the motion Jase did when he first walked into the kitchen. “Oh, damn,” he says over the pot with a reverence in his voice. “You made us dinner?” Declan asks with a boyish grin.
That’s not exactly the truth, but I don’t deny it. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like it, but there’s plenty.”
Declan grabs the plates, the clinking ceramic filling the room as Jase gives me space, walking to the other side of the U-shaped island and leaning against it, opposite me. The thought of being in the room with Carter’s brothers scared me literally only minutes ago. But an ease washes over me as I watch Declan make a plate and then point the spoon to Jase, who answers the unspoken question.
“Yeah, I want one, I haven’t eaten yet.”
I lean forward a little off the counter, ready to ask him to make me a plate too, but Declan speaks first.
“You didn’t poison it, right?” Declan asks with a shit-eating grin. “You know I’ve got to check,” he jokes and then makes Jase’s plate.
And there goes the sense of ease and the smile that graced my lips. It washes away like a lone shell on the shore before the tide.
I’m still the enemy. I will always be the enemy. And that’s what they’ll always be to me.
I offer him a tight smile and force down the well of sadness and pity. “Not yet, you got here too soon.” A tight knot forms in my throat, but I drown it with the wine as Declan chuckles, still piling spaghetti onto the plate. Bastard tears prick at my eyes and all I can think is that I wish either Carter were here or that I was back at home, under the comfort of my blanket.
“I don’t think she’s eaten yet,” Jase tells Declan in a tone that has no trace of the humor I forced into my response. He grabs the two plates Declan’s made and motions for me to follow him to the small table to eat in the kitchen. Declan looks shocked at Jase’s reaction and the seriousness in his tone and objects to him taking both plates, one of which was his. His forehead creases with confusion… until he sees me.
I’ve always been shit at hiding what I’m feeling. My father used to tell me I’d fare better in this world if I could learn to lie.
My body moves unwillingly to follow Jase, but at least I grabbed the bottle. I can’t look at Declan as he watches me. I know he sees through the faint humor I veiled my emotions with in my response.
“Are you okay eating here?” Jase asks. The legs of the chair make a scratching noise on the floor as he pulls it out for me. I stare at the chair for a moment, marveling at the kindness while questioning his intentions.
He feels bad for me. That’s all I can think. He’s being nice because I’m wounded. That’s all this is.
“I’d rather be alone,” I finally answer him, finding my voice and feeling the cords in my neck tensing as I look back at him. I have to force my words out of my dry throat and they hurt as I do. “I just need to be alone for a moment.” My breath shudders and the back of my eyes prick as I see the visions of last night again. Only three rooms down. The grand dining room is only three doors down from here.
“Please,” I say quickly in a whisper and place the wine down on the table with as much grace as I can.
With both hands on the table, he looks over his shoulder and says something to Declan, but I don’t hear what.
“You going to be okay?” he asks me as I hear Declan’s footsteps leaving the kitchen.
“How long does it take to be okay after murdering someone? Even if you feel it was justified in every way?” I ask Jase and he merely looks past me at Declan’s exit before bringing his eyes to mine.
Jase doesn’t answer me; he simply looks back at me as if I hadn’t spoken at all.
I start to think he’ll leave me like that, taking his plate with him, but instead, he asks me his own question, “You want me to grab another bottle?” to which I can only nod in response.
He’s kind enough to grant me both the loneliness and the second bottle I desire.
