CHAPTER 15

Nowhere to Go and No Place to Call Home

F or the next week, Henry and I barely speak.

Physically, geographically, Henry and I have never been closer, but emotionally we've never been farther apart. For days, he barely looks at me, barely speaks to me unless he's giving me an order during training. He doesn't watch any Downton Abbey with me, doesn't eat most of the meals he makes for us, and when I'm in my room reading fanfics or blasting 1D, he never makes an appearance to comment on the noise level. There have been a few nights where I purposefully made the music loud, hoping he'd come scold me. But he didn't. Like clockwork, every morning we wake up, eat breakfast, we train until dinner, and then Henry disappears into his room. That's it.

I haven't gotten any better at shooting, which has made Henry even more irritable. The closest I ever get is just a nick or graze of the target's outline. I've never once hit the heart or head, and it's because of Henry's attitude more so than my lack of abilities. Every time I miss, he gets angrier. By the end of every training session, he's downright yelling at me, treating me like a grunt in the army that needs to be whipped into shape.

"You're not trying hard enough," he'll say.

"You need to be better!" he'll shout.

"Aim for the head, not the air next to the head!" he'll order.

It takes all my willpower not to snap and call him an asshole. The only reason I don't is because I know how fragile he is right now. He's lashing out because he's scared, and I don't want to push him too hard.

As if this week wasn't shitty enough, my blood sugar has been high. This tends to happen when I get stressed out, and nothing my pump does fixes the issue because the issue doesn't lie with my diabetes. I'm sad and miserable. I miss my best friend, the man I love. I'm going out of my mind right now, so obviously my blood sugar is going to be fucked up and make everything that much shittier.

High blood sugar can make you be in a shit mood, so my restraint with Henry is hanging on by a thread.

A couple of nights ago, I woke up to the sound of clanging, and when I went to investigate, I found Henry in the gym doing some practice of his own. He was there from midnight to four, and he's come back every night since. When we practice during the day, he's running on maybe three hours of sleep. It's very unhealthy, but I know he won't take my criticism right now. He won't even say hello to me. He must know I've been watching him while he practices, but he's made no indication during the night or the next day that he noticed my presence at all. Maybe he's so caught up in his own thoughts that he truly doesn't know. Maybe he doesn't acknowledge me because he doesn't want me to leave. Maybe he misses me as much as I miss him.

Right now, it just turned three in the morning, and Henry is doing pull-ups in the gym. His back is to me, and I watch his back and arm muscles flex as he lifts himself up and down. He's not wearing a shirt, so I get an unobstructed view of his body. Under better circumstances, I would find great enjoyment in watching him work out. Henry is hot as fuck, and what he's doing right now is like one of my wet dreams come to life. Besides the training sessions he's conducted for me, I've never seen him in his physical element. I've never seen him fight or shoot or work out before. His body moves in such fluid motions; there's no strain or hesitation, no sign of struggle. He acts like this is second nature to him, and after all this time, it probably is. He said he was sent to military school at sixteen, so that's twenty years of fighting, exercising, and training.

He's stopped doing pull-ups and has now started to attack the punching bag like it killed his dog. He's not doing boxing-like punches as I've done, he's doing full on jujitsu. He uses his fists, his knees, his feet, his legs; he uses his whole body. His moves are so precise, so exact…

I bet he's the same way in bed.

I've never been hornier in my entire life. Henry gave me the most mind-blowing orgasm I'd ever experienced and now he barely even looks at me. Any time he touches me, either for readjusting my posture or pretending to attack me so I can escape him, I get overcome with images of his hands traveling over skin like they did that night; I ache in my body and soul for his kisses and his dirty words and his promises of pleasure. Henry's entire being is torture of the most exquisite kind.

Suddenly Henry stops kicking the poor bag, and I watch his shoulders fall and rise as he tries to catch his breath. He slicks a hand through his sweaty hair, and without turning, he says, "You should be asleep."

I shrug to myself, knowing he can't see me. "So should you, yet here you are."

"Since days are dedicated to training you, nights are for me to practice," he explains, picking up a water bottle he had resting on the wrestling mats. I watch his neck flex and his throat bob as he gulps down half the bottle, and even that is enough to make me all hot and bothered.

This is fucking ridiculous.

I walk over towards him and place my hand flat against his sweaty back. He tenses at my touch, lowering the bottle from his lips, but he still faces away from me.

"Just for tonight, can we forget about everything? Can we pretend no one is after us, that the past doesn't exist, and our future is certain? I want just a few hours with you. I want to fall asleep in your arms and kiss you and be with you."

He shakes his head before bowing it towards his chest. "Beth—"

"Please." I lean forward and place a kiss between his shoulder blades, then I watch goosebumps break out over his skin.

For a few seconds, Henry neither moves nor speaks, then he says in a hoarse whisper, "I can't, B. We both have to be up in a couple hours and if we're both exhausted from being up too long, we won't be practicing as hard as we usually do. Harrison could arrive any moment."

I lean my forehead against his back, making him stiffen. "You're acting like it's written in stone that something bad will happen."

"It might as well have been," he whispers, gently leaning into my touch.

"Says who?"

"God."

I roll my eyes, my longing replaced with frustration. "What authority does God have over you? If he is real, then he gave all of us free will, to choose our own destiny, but you're letting him choose it for you. What good has God ever done for either of us? What aid or comfort or love has he ever provided us? None. If God is real, then he's nothing more than an absentee parent that blames his children for all of his mistakes. If he has decided what our fates will be, then let's use our free will to fucking change them."

"There are some things out of our control, some things we can't change. Whether it's God, fate, the universe, or luck, I've been shown time and time again that I'm not meant to be happy. I'm not meant to have love."

I take a step back from him, now getting angry. "Everyone deserves love, Henry. The only one keeping you from being happy and having love is yourself, and you're doing it because you're afraid. Don't blame God or fate for something you are doing to yourself. You are the one who pushes people away, you are the one who refuses to process the emotions inside of you, you are the one who believes you'll lose anyone you come to love. But you know what? It won't be death that makes you lose me. You'll only have yourself and your actions to blame for that."

I turn away from him and start towards the exit, and I don't have to look behind me to know that he's staring at me. I can feel his gaze on me like a brand. Once I scan my face to open the door, I turn back to him, and I hate the anguish written all over his face, even more so since I'm the one who put it there. But it had to be done.

"You need to stop living in the past, H. If you don't, you'll never have the love you crave so deeply…the kind your mother had for you. The kind I have always felt for you," I murmur, making his lips part in shock, maybe even awe.

And with that, I turn my back on him and walk to my room, the only sound being the doors slowly closing shut behind me.

There's a gym at the hotel I'm staying at, and every night since I arrived, I've spent every spare minute in there, thinking of my brother lying dead in the ground, driving me to make sure my body is ready for the coming fight. I must be focused and stick to the plan. Forbid empathy and never yield your advantage. There can be no mistakes, no hesitations, no flaws in my actions or thoughts. I must anticipate Cai's moves and not improvise. I have one chance to avenge my brother. I will find his murderer, I will not hesitate, and I will carve him up with precision and purpose. I cannot fail.

I will not fail.