Chapter 28

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B eing a soldier had taught me a lot of things—how to handle a gun, how to survive in the middle of nowhere, and perhaps most importantly, how to go without sleep for a long fucking time. It was a survival skill, a necessity when you were out in the field, surrounded by enemies on all sides.

So, while Red slept next to me, all peaceful and shit, her hair spread out on the pillow like some kind of goddamn halo, I just stared. She looked so damn innocent, so untouched by the bullshit of this world. Her pale skin, glowing in the moonlight, was like porcelain—fragile, breakable—and it almost made something inside me ache. The fuck was wrong with me? I could just sit here and watch her all night.

It was 5 A.M., and I’d been awake for hours, too fucked up by the nightmares that always come creeping. But I’d be damned if I let them touch her. I wasn’t about to let my own twisted demons hurt the one person who’d somehow crashed through the walls I spent years building around my fucked-up heart.

I slept in short bursts, waking up every hour or so, just long enough to keep the nightmares from sinking their claws in too deep. Some shit you couldn’t ever shake.

With a sigh, I reached out, brushing a lock of hair from her face. Her skin was so fucking soft beneath my fingertips. It was in these rare quiet moments, when the world seemed to stop, that I’d allow myself to believe—just for a second—that maybe I could find some shred of peace in this shit life.

She woke up, stretching, her body moving under the sheets like she didn’t have a care in the world. Her green eyes blinked open, still foggy with sleep, then they found me and widened just a bit.

“Morning,” I murmured, my gaze drifting down her body as she shifted in bed.

Her hair was tousled from sleep, and her eyes were slightly puffy, but her features were still beautiful. “Hey,” she mumbled sleepily. “Are you still awake?”

I sat up, leaning against the headboard, pulling her a little closer without even realizing it. “Yeah,” my voice was low-pitched and raspy, a result of a night spent wrestling with my own demons.

She stretched again, her back arching in a way that made my blood heat up. “Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, tilting her head to study my face.

“Mhm,” I replied simply, my hand finding her hip and gripping it. “Nightmares.”

She nodded, her lips pressing together like she was thinking about what to say. “Same ones?”

“Yeah,” I sighed, rolling my shoulders in an attempt to loosen the tension. “Usually are about my father.”

She reached out to touch my face, smoothing the wrinkles from my brow with her thumb. “Was he violent towards you?” she asked, her voice soft, careful. Like she wasn’t sure if I’d blow up or shut down.

Her question brought back memories I wished I could forget.

I remained silent, not wanting to confirm her suspicions. I grabbed my pack of cigarettes from the night stand and lit one, taking in the comforting taste of the harsh tobacco.

“He was,” I said finally, the words ripping open wounds I’d long since buried. “Beat the shit out of me when I was a kid. Sometimes he still does... in my dreams.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, leaning her weight onto my chest as she wrapped her arms around my torso, her head resting on my shoulder like she could somehow protect me from all the crap I carried. “I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like for you.”

I took a long drag on my cigarette, holding it between my lips as I stared at nothing in particular. “Not your fault, Red,” I said, my voice cracking as I pushed the words out.

She ran her fingers through my hair and cradled my chin, slowly turning my face towards hers, so our eyes were locked together. They were soft, almost too soft, and I hated how much I wanted to fucking break.

“Still, no one should have to go through that,” she said, like she didn’t understand I was past all that.

Too far gone.

I wanted to tell her that I was fine, that I didn’t need her pity, that I wasn’t some broken little boy looking for someone to fix me. But the truth was, I was fucking tired—tired of carrying around the weight of my past, tired of pretending like it didn’t still eat me alive.

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it it damn near impossible to speak. “No sense in dwelling on the past.”

“What about your mother?” she asked.

I chuckled, but it wasn’t a laugh of amusement—it was bitter, filled with pain and anger and a fucking lifetime of resentment. More like the sound of a man who’s given up trying to pretend things weren’t fucked beyond repair.

“She left when I was young,” I said, my voice flat and emotionless. “My old man beat her too, until one day she just couldn’t take it anymore. Ran off, didn’t even look back. Left me with that bastard like I was some fucking afterthought.”

Red drew in a deep breath, a look of horror and shock overtaking her features as she registered my words. “Oh, my God. That’s horrible. Please don’t say anything more. I’m so sorry. I never should have brought it up.”

I brought my cigarette to my lips and took a quick drag, letting the smoke swirl around in my chest before I exhaled.

She looked at me with pity in her eyes and for some reason, it angered me. I didn’t want to be viewed as something broken that needs to be fixed.

No need for it, love.

I let out another harsh laugh as I thought about how I was a product of domestic abuse. It wasn’t exactly fun to think about, but she asked, and there was no point in hiding it. My mother was stuck between two monsters—me, and my father.

After all, maybe I wasn’t worth saving.

“No need to feel sorry for me. I made my peace with it a long time ago.”

She looked like she was thinking real hard, probably trying to figure out the ‘right’ thing to say. After a minute, she just went with it.

“Your mom shouldn’t have left you behind. You didn’t deserve it. You deserve to have a mother who loves you and takes care of you. I’m sorry she wasn’t that woman.”

A plume of smoke escaped my lips, clouding the space between us. “So, does that mean I have mommy issues?”

Red’s lips twitched in a hesitant smile. “Hey, at least you’re self-aware,” she teased as she nudged me playfully with her elbow. “That’s more than I can say for most guys I’ve met.”

I inhaled slowly, letting the smoke burn its way down my throat. Fuck, I could use a drink right now. That warm, burning feeling, the one that made you forget everything for a little while.

I flicked my cigarette, trying to push the thought away. I wasn’t going to become my father, wasn’t going to let those same demons drag me down into the pit with him.

As I smoked, I noticed her fingers drifting to that spot on her neck where her necklace used to be—the one her old man had given her. For once, I wanted to hear something good. I wanted to know there were fathers out there who didn’t use their fists to make a point.

“How was your relationship with your dad growing up?” I asked, exhaling smoke as I spoke. “Were you guys close?”

She looked up at me and nodded, as if she had been expecting the question. “He was the only family I had. My mom died when I was born.”

She said it with this quiet acceptance, like she’d already made peace with it. There was a strength in her that was both impressive and fucking sad. I wanted to say something comforting, but the words just wouldn’t come out. I wasn’t used to this shit—being there for someone when they needed me.

“He did everything for me,” she continued, not giving me enough time to react. “Worked his ass off as a firefighter to provide for us, to give me the best life he could. And despite everything, he always had a smile on his face, always made sure I knew I was loved.”

I flicked ash from my cigarette and blew out more smoke, not giving a damn where it went. “Sounds like he was a good man,” I said, my voice flat. “He’d be proud of you.”

Red breathed in deeply, her gaze settling on mine and for a second, I thought she might break down. “I doubt that,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “He’s dead because of me.”

I wasn’t going to let her sit there and tear herself apart. “May I ask what happened that day?” I asked, genuinely curious.

I needed to understand where she was coming from.

“My father loved fishing,” she said through trembling lips. “He would take me along sometimes, but he wouldn’t always allow me to go with him.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered that particular outing with her father. “That day, I insisted on going with him, even though he said no. But I was a stubborn child, and eventually, he gave in because he couldn’t bear to see me cry.”

She paused, wiping away a tear. “He only had one life vest on that boat, and he gave it to me. Said he didn’t need it because he was a good swimmer.”

I felt numb, yet too aware of everything at the same time, a lump forming in my throat.

“On our way back, another boat came speeding past us, causing a wave that flipped our boat over. My father suffered a head injury, and fell unconscious.”

I listened, my heart sinking with every word she uttered. She took a deep breath, her voice breaking.

“I tried to save him, Rogue. But I couldn’t. He slipped away, and drowned right in front of me.”

I crushed my cigarette into the ashtray and pulled her into my arms, holding her tight as she cried. “You didn’t kill him, Red,” I said with conviction. “It was an accident.”

But she just shook her head, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

“I should have listened to him,” she choked out. “He died because of me.”

My jaw tightened as I saw her suffer so much pain and guilt over something that wasn’t her fault, yet she held herself responsible.

“You were just a kid, Red. You couldn’t have known what would happen,” I insisted, reaching out to wipe away her tears. “And your father wouldn’t want you carrying this shit around with you.”

I cradled her in my arms and stroked her hair gingerly, trying to soothe her as the tears fell. “Shhh, let it out.”

I didn’t know what the fuck to say, so I just held her tighter, burying my face in her hair as I tried to absorb some of her pain. She felt so fragile in my arms, like she might shatter into a million fucking pieces if I let go.

“Let it all out.”

With a trembling hand, Red wiped her tears away and pulled away from our embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she let out a meek sniffle. “I shouldn’t have unloaded all that on you.”

I shook my head, reaching out to gently cup her cheek in my hand. She didn’t owe me any apologies. Hell, she didn’t owe anyone shit.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re allowed to feel whatever you need to feel.”

I leaned in close and brushed my lips against hers. The touch was gentle, tentative at first, as if asking for permission. But soon enough, I found myself losing myself in the kiss.

I tangled my fingers into her hair as I pulled her closer, craving more of her taste. Her body molded to mine, pressing her curves into my hard muscle.

My hands slid down her back, my fingers lightly grazing her bare skin. I broke away from her lips, nuzzling her neck, making her gasp and arch into me. My tongue traced along her collarbone, and she let out this breathy little moan that drove me fucking insane.

“I want you so bad, it hurts,” I murmured into her skin. “But we need to focus on what we’re gonna do about that asswipe of an ex you have.”

Red’s body was tense as she adjusted her position to sit up a little straighter. “You’re right,” she nodded, her eyes not straying away from mine.

Then snatched a cigarette from my pack and lit it with a quick flick of my lighter. She held it loosely between her fingers, her eyes meeting mine briefly before she took a drag from it.

I watched her, every detail, the way she held the cigarette, the way she inhaled the smoke—it was fucking erotic, and I hated how much it turned me on.

I shouldn’t be into that.

But fuck, I was.

The sound of someone knocking at my door broke my focus, drawing my attention away from Red. My heart leaped into my throat, and I cursed under my breath, wondering who the hell could be interrupting us at this hour. I didn’t fucking trust anyone these days, especially not unexpected visitors.

I casted a glance towards the door as if it had personally offended me and Red’s lips parted as if she was about to say something, but the knock came again, louder this time, more insistent, like whoever the fuck was on the other side wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

I glanced at Red, signaling her to stay put as I stood and made my way to the door.

“Rogue, are you in there?” a gruff voice called from the other side of the door.

What the fuck did she want? And more importantly, how the fuck was I supposed to deal with her without giving away the fact that Red was here?