Page 121 of One Last Rainy Day
By blurring the sand streaming through the hourglass to multiply it, make it last, even as I saw it slipping away.
By playing deaf to every whispered sign and, instead, reveling in the fire she ignited inside my heart.
By ignoring the roar of warning that told me to hand her the gun, tossing it instead, if only to dim some of the fear in her eyes. A look I feared all along. A look that comes with the knowledge of what I’m truly capable of.
A look that told me she was finally convinced that I was the bad guy I told her I was.
A look of terror that ate me alive as she cowered from me when I entered her bedroom. In mere seconds I recognized the realizations I had failed to protect her from. The truth that this was never a game, and we hadn’t exaggerated the stakes—but underplayed them. A look that told me she thought I would be the one to deliver those consequences.
A look that annihilated me enough to toss my gun too far out of my reach.
It was when her eyes cleared, and she truly saw me as she had all those months ago, that I was gifted those few precious seconds of exchange. A collection of minutes where I was able to confess my fears, apologize for my deceit, and finally deliver my ill-timed declaration wholeheartedly.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I’ve been in love.”
A declaration I fucking refused to hold inside another second, knowing it was too late. A confession that gave me a bittersweet sort of peace, along with the notion that one day, I might be a worthy man deserving of the love I selfishly took.
And now?
Now I’m standing front row and dead center to the consequence of feigning ignorance to those instincts.
But in doing so, I was rewarded with a piece of paradise, a minute more with my ignorant bliss.
And I took it.
That’s how I got here.
Even if my gun now resides in enemy hands.
“What brings you here, Matteo? It’s a little late for company.”
I spike my tone enough that if Tobias is anywhere in the near vicinity, he’ll come. But I feel the intuition I’ve overlooked one time too many kicking in as my entire being erupts in awareness.
It’s too late.
Intent on keeping Matteo a safe distance from her, I engage in pointless back and forth while maintaining the focus of the monster in front of me. The threat in his eyes and posture looming mere feet away from the one thing I refuse to be robbed of.
I’ve lost enough to life’s hand. It doesn’t get to have her.
Feeling it when Cecelia emerges from her bedroom, I calmly tell her to step back. I don’t want her seeing the depravity radiating from this motherfucker. Though alike in some ways, this sick fuck considers spilling blood a pleasure.
We’re entirely different in that respect.
At least I have that. Even if I can identify with him in a few ways, I won’t lose sleep over spilling his blood.
For her, I’ll become the goddamn boogeyman. Matteo reads as much in my eyes, of that I’m sure, even as he threatens her in an attempt to rattle me.
Before I can take another step, Tobias sounds up behind me.
“What’s good, brother?”
“Got this handled,” I relay before asking Matteo about his brother’s whereabouts—my confidence in Tobias. Refusing to think about the half-dozen ways this has already gone wrong, I’m reassured when I hear Tobias address Cecelia to come to him. Just as relief briefly filters in, Andre’s voicesounds. The three of them go back and forth in meaningless exchange as Tobias tries to reason with me to wait. But I voice my objection because of what I know and see—no longer ignoring my instincts. It’s so fucking clear in Matteo’s eyes that he’s salivating for this.
That makes two of us, motherfucker.
