Page 22 of Devil’s Torture

“Of course. You’re her dad. It’s her time. I never lied to her about what happened between us. I made it very clear that you never knew I was pregnant. She saw how hurt you were to find out about her earlier.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when I saw you the first time?”

Even though I knew the question would come, it still makes anger flare in my chest. “Rune,” my voice is a chastisement, “you left. I didn’t owe you a damn thing. Not only did you leave, but I never knew why other than the vague bullshit the club tried to sell to me. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, not after ten years. A young woman’s heart can only hold onto that kind of hope for so long and I was under a little bit of stress.”

He nods and I watch him absorb my answer. He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t try to blame me. He simply wanted to know.

Fuck; he was the same way back then too.

“The club would have helped you.”

“I didn’t want their help,” I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but it’s basically impossible.

“What about us, Bex?”

His eyes plead with me, and I have to look away. “What happened that night? Why did you leave?” I look back and stare into his eyes. “I’m not stupid, I know something happened. You wouldn’t have left, club directive or not, if there wasn’t something.”

When he doesn’t say anything, I have my answer.

He’s just like he was back then when it comes to his silence. I hated it then and I hate it even more now. Something happened.

“Right,” I swallow hard and hold out a piece of paper with my number on it, even though I’m sure the club already has it, “there’s your answer.” I hold his gaze. “There’s nothing between us.” I nod toward the paper as he takes it from my fingers like he’s not sure if it’s a grenade with the pin or without. “That’s my number. We can set something up for this weekend. Nothing huge, maybe the park.”

“Park sounds good,” he rasps the words.

With a final nod, I turn around and walk back inside. I don’t look back even though I want to.

CHAPTER 6

RUNE

Over the last few days, I’ve been trying to get myself back in the swing of actually being somewhere I’m not planning to leave. It hasn’t been easy, especially when I’ve been around my brothers. Not because I don’t know or trust them, but because they don’t know me. Not anymore.

Now I’m the last place I thought I would be. At the park. With my daughter.

She’s playing without a care in the world. I’m envious of her joy.

When we met up, I didn’t get a hug from either of my girls, but that’s okay. I know I have a long road ahead of me. I might hate it, and I do, but I can’t rush this. Not with them. Not when it’s this important.

She waved at me and then asked me to push her on the swings. Fuck, I could have spent all day pushing her on the swing set.

Because she talked the entire time. About herself. About her school. About what she does with Bex.

It was like getting a peek inside their lives and I soaked up every single word.

Now she’s exploring the play structure and going down the slides. If she needs a moment, and some space, the last thing I want to do is overwhelm her. Even while I step over to where Bexley is sitting on a bench, I don’t take my eyes off Dawn.

I can’t.

As I sit next to Bex, I keep some distance between us. Not that I want it there, but I know she needs it. The last thing I want to do is push her too fast too soon. It would only end in disaster.

We don’t say anything and the silence stings. But I don’t try to break it.

The longer I sit and watch Dawn interact with the other kids with a smile on her face and light in her eyes, the more I feel out of place. I don’t deserve to witness her happiness.

I don’t belong here.

When I look down at my hands, I can still see blood there. So much blood.