Page 24 of Surrender

“No. He’s not.”

Resignation lingered in his throat, choking him until it was difficult to breathe. Head pressed into the padding of the carriage seat behind him, Theo closed his eyes. The silence between them was colder than a wintery day, and when he darted a look at Genevieve, she was huddled in the corner of the carriage, her face turned away from him and hidden by the shadows.

“Genevieve, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Her voice sounded small as it drifted out into the space between them.

“I know how much you miss Peter,” he said quietly as a vise wrapped around his chest.

“Do you? I thought you did, but I’m no longer sure. And I thought you of all people would understand.” Despite her dispassionate tone of voice, Theo heard the suffering threading its way through her words.

“I do, Genevieve. I do understand.”

“No, you understand nothing,” she whispered fiercely, her sorrow dark and distinct beneath her harsh words.

“Enough, Genevieve. Do not presume to think my grief is any less devastating than yours,” he exclaimed harshly.

Genevieve’s suggestion that he didn’t understand her sorrow stung. He understood better than anyone else what Peter’s death meant to her. To him. The instant he leaned forward to invade her space, she pressed herself back from him and deeper into the squabs of her seat. Her retreat infuriated him all the more as the chains holding his sorrow in check broke with a vicious snap.

“Peter was my brother. Perhaps not by blood, but I loved him as if he were. He was no less dear to me than Angus or Tilly are. You have no idea how many times I’ve wished it had been me, and not Peter, who’d been in that dark alley that night. So do not sit there and pass judgement on me because of the circumstances of my birth. I would have given my life for Peter, and for you to even suggest that my sorrow isn’t as crushing as yours is an insult to me and to Peter’s memory. ”

Green eyes wide with shock, Genevieve stared at him in stunned horror at his razor-sharp condemnation. Consumed by the darkness he’d kept buried inside him for months, Theo tried to rein in his anger, guilt, and sorrow and failed. If anything, his attempt to regain control only increased his fury that she’d thought to claim she was the sole person overwhelmed with grief.

“I…I didn’t—”

“I cannot begin to comprehend the horrifying life you and Peter suffered as children. But the things Peter shared with me humbled me in the face of his character, strength, and his kind, gentle heart. That he was capable of still seeing the goodness in others, despite his childhood, is remarkable. So do not ever again try to suggest your grief is deeper than mine, because it is not. It might be different, but it is no less debilitating.”

The bitterness in his voice hung in the air like a tangible, snarling animal ready to shred and claw at anything in its path. Throwing himself backwards into the seat cushions, Theo closed his eyes, struggling to breathe as the band of grief around his chest tightened and constricted his lungs.

“I’m sorry, Theo, so terribly sorry,” she whispered. “Forgive me.”

Still enraged, he ignored her apology. Outside the carriage, the muted beat of hooves hitting cobblestones was the only sound pushing its way past the thunder of his heartbeat in his ears. As the moments passed, Theo experienced a modicum of relief as the band around his chest relaxed, making it easier to breathe.

“That was uncalled for, Theo. The two of you might not hurt in the same way, but I told you how vulnerable she is. For a man in love with the woman, I expected better of you.”

The sudden sound of Peter’s voice echoing so clearly in his ears made Theo flinch. Christ Jesus, even from beyond the grave his best friend’s words sliced into him so deep it was impossible to ignore them, and he closed his eyes in regret. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t have to be in love with Genevieve to know his sorrow was no less deep than hers.

His loss was of a different kind than hers, but the difference was that Genevieve had been tossed out into an ocean without an anchor the moment Peter had died. It was a truth he’d failed to recognize until this precise moment.

Even after what had happened between them in the croft, Theo was a miserable failure when it came to understanding just how alone she must feel, even with him. Uncertain how to make amends for his brutal words, Theo rolled his shoulders in discomfort as a small breeze of icy air brushed over him.

Frowning, he opened his eyes at the sudden drop in temperature. The chill wrapping around him was even more wintry than the tension between him and Genevieve. Light flooded the interior of the carriage, then winked out as they rolled past a streetlamp. Huddled in the corner of the carriage, the shadows hid Genevieve’s profile once more. Theo released an inaudible sigh and froze as a small white cloud formed in front of him as cold air mixed with his warm breath.

“Goddamnit, Selbourne, look at me.”

Startled, Theo’s gaze flitted toward the sound and grew rigid as he saw the faint outline next to Genevieve. Stunned, he stared at the silhouette growing sharper on the seat opposite him as another white cloud appeared in front of him as he blew out a harsh breath of amazement.

“It’s about time. You always refused to believe you possessed even the slightest touch of the an dara sealladh, but here we are, you stubborn arse.”

“Christ Jesus, I must be losing my mind,” he muttered beneath his breath. Theo darted a look at Genevieve, but she didn’t give any indication she’d heard him. Next to her, Peter’s shadow shook its head, and a sigh whispered through the air.

“You really are an idiot, you know.”

“I am not.” Theo barely moved his lips, and the sound of Peter snorting with incredulity mocked him from the opposite side of the vehicle.

“Yes, you are. First, you avoid Genevieve for years because you’ve an unruly cock.”

“And you went and got your throat slit before you could help me…” Theo’s voice strengthened involuntarily, and he darted another glance at Genevieve.