Chapter Eight

Tobias

Age Sixteen

"G et out!" V ictoria screams as I towel off and glance out of the bathroom to see Dominic standing at the threshold of my bedroom, with an eyeful of my naked girlfriend. He plays deaf to her protests, a smirk lifting his lips. "Get out, you little pervert," she shrieks, white-knuckling the sheet she pulled up to her neck.

"Out, Dominic," I bark. As he lingers in the doorway, spiked blond hair appears over his shoulder. Sean is feasting on her as well.

"Get the hell out." Securing the towel around my waist, I cross the room and push them back in one firm shove before slamming the door in their faces. I turn back to Victoria. "Sorry, they're young, curious idiots ."

"Get a damn lock on your door," she lashes out before dropping the sheet and pulling her bra from the floor.

"No need. I'm leaving in a week."

"What?" She looks over to me, her eyes wide. "Going where?"

Leaning against the door, I ready myself for a conversation I've been dreading. "France. Prep school. I told you I applied."

"You're leaving in a week and just now telling me?"

I brace myself, knowing I'm in for it. I knew better than to secure a girlfriend over the summer.

"I thought France was a long shot." It most definitely was, but my French roots aided greatly in my acceptance, the irony not lost on me that my French roots are precisely why I set my sights on it in the first place.

But that's not why she was betting I had no chance.

"Yeah, I guess it was, for a guy like me, living like this," my tone bitter.

"That's not what I meant."

"Yes, it was."

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

I let the anger roll off me, knowing that dig was meant to sting because she feels stung herself. "I didn't set out to hurt you."

"No good guy ever does."

"Don't accuse me of that."

"I won't now. I was warned."

"Let me go handle them." I pull some sweats from my half-collapsed chest of drawers. "I'll be back."

"It's fine." She pulls her sundress on. "I have to be home early since I broke curfew with you last night." The shake in her voice doesn't sit well.

"Victoria." She looks up at me as the first of her tears fall. "I told you this couldn't get deep when we got together because there was a chance I was leaving."

"I know." Her disappointment stems from hopes that she would be some sort of exception. But our relationship was superficial because I couldn't share anything with her. She was the perfect girl to pass a summer with. Though highly privileged and a little demanding at times, she has a good heart. She harrumphs, fastening her sandals. "I considered myself lucky to be with you. Now I wish I didn't know what it was like."

"I'll call you later."

She doesn't respond.

"I will call you. "

"And say what? I don't see the point." She shakes her head. "Good luck in France."

She lifts up on her toes to kiss me, and I kiss her back, releasing her as she steps away, hesitating before opening my door. "I love the fact that you're getting out of here. You're so much better than this place."

I watch her retreat down the hall. Shortly after, I hear the front door close. Guilt gnaws at me and I bat it down as I dress. From this point on, anything resembling a relationship will only hinder my progress—another thing I have to give up if I intend to see my plans through. I indulged in Victoria because she was my last for the foreseeable future. After dressing, I take angry strides across the hall and slap open Dom's bedroom door with my palm. Sean sits on his twin bed, pouring some of Delphine's vodka into a flask before replacing the booze with his water bottle. Caught red-handed, he gives me a mischievous grin and lifts a shoulder. "What? I've been doing this for months. It keeps her less drunk and more hydrated."

"I told you to stay out of my room when she's over."

"She's always over," Dom says, tapping on his remote control from where he sits on a beanbag he's outgrown, engrossed in the game. "But I can see the appeal, nice tits."

I slap the remote out of his hand, and he lifts his chin, ready for my wrath.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You know better," I growl.

"I have a dick, too, brother. I notice things," he retorts sarcastically, all for show, and mostly for Sean, who picks up his remote.

"You going to spend the rest of your week with her locked in your room? Do I need to make an appointment to knock on your door?" He's lashing out, and it's no mystery why.

"I was planning on taking you both camping tonight, but you can kiss that shit goodbye."

Dom barely flinches, but I know it stung him. Sean spikes to life, tossing the remote and abandoning the game. "I'm down. "

"Not acting this way, you're not." I face my brother. "And don't be disrespectful about her."

"You love her or something?" Dom asks, more out of curiosity than anything, but there's no need for us to have that discussion. He's way far ahead of the curve on that front, as he is most things. Though I'm positive he's still innocent and hell-bent on changing that status. From the attention he's getting, it won't take him long.

"What did I tell you Papa said?"

"When you love someone, it's never a question you have to ask yourself."

I nod. "But even if you don't, you treat them well. There's no need to act like a dick, even if you're thinking with it."

"Sage advice, thanks, brother . I'll be glad to be done with your lectures in a week." He glances back at Sean. "We both will."

"You want a prime example of what the wrong man can do to a woman?" I jerk my chin toward Delphine's bedroom. "Take a good fucking look at your aunt."

This sobers them both considerably as I glance between them.

Dominic rolls his eyes. "You want me to feel sorry for her?"

"No, I want you to understand why she is the way she is."

"By choice."

"Just like you're choosing to be an ignorant little prick right now."

At eleven, he's twice as smart as I was and three times as hard to handle. I'm partly to blame. I've shared with him most everything I know.

"Don't disrespect women, period . They're twice as evolved as most men will ever be. Don't take your shit out on them, either. It's a sign of weakness, and they aren't punching bags. They're a sanctuary, and you need to figure that out quick."

"How many have you been through lately?" Sean pops off.

"Listen to what I'm saying."

"Do we have a choice?" Dom spouts, and I shove him to sit on the mattress he's outgrown. He's been especially aggressive the last few weeks, and it's clear why .

"I'm leaving , brother, and I'm sorry that I'm leaving you with her, but it's what's best for us. You have to trust me."

"Thousands of miles away, yeah, that's best for us ," he retorts dryly.

I cup the back of my neck, the ache growing in my chest. "You'll understand why soon enough."

"I don't have to understand shit." I jerk him up to face me, and instantly Sean's on his feet. I rarely hit my brother, but it's Sean's reaction that lets me know where we stand on that front. And it's relief I feel as Sean bows up, ready to defend him without a second thought. Nothing but pride fills me, but I keep my tone aggressive as I stare down at Dominic.

"You think I wouldn't take you with me if I could?"

"No, you're just leaving for the next six to seven years because it's what's best for us ."

"And I'm not going six fucking weeks without seeing you. I've explained this."

"We'll see," Dom mumbles, clear hurt shining in his eyes. He's just as terrified as I am about our impending separation. Sean's been just as antsy, playing joker and acting out a little more to hide his apprehension about me leaving. My only comfort is that they'll have each other.

"Why Paris? Why so far?" Sean asks as I split my gaze between them. It's clear the ticking of my last days are taking a toll, which cracks me dead center.

"Put her bottles back and pack up right now—it's time you know."

"Know what?" Dom asks.

"That everything I'm doing is for you ."

"I fail to see the logic, brother ."

"And when you do, I'll make you eat those fucking words." I turn to Sean. "Grab Tyler and your gear and be back here in half an hour."

Sean opens the window. "On it."

"Sean," I call to him, and he pauses with one leg out the window, "why don't you try using the front door? "

He gives me his signature grin. "Where's the fun in that?"

Shaking my head, I turn my focus on my brother, who studies me curiously. "Where are we going?"

"My spot."

This shuts him up. He's been begging me to take him with me for years, but I never have, until tonight. He'd followed me once, and I caught him halfway and walked his ass straight back to the house. My spot has always been the one place I find a little solace, where my chaotic thoughts and panic morph into something more definable. Where I can make sense of more than I question. And I've never wanted to share it, until now.

Dread fills me when I think of leaving him in this shithole, and at Delphine's mercy, but he's thick-skinned enough to endure it, and his confidence more than makes up for any of his other shortcomings—I made sure of it. I may have overshot some on that front by the amount of attitude he's been giving.

Across the hall, I shove a few days' worth of clothes into my duffle, just as Delphine comes in from her shift, eyeing us both from the hallway before opting for my bedroom.

"Where are you two going?"

"Camping. We'll be back in a few days. What do you need?"

"Nothing." She crosses her arms from my door, watching me pack. "Thank you for paying the electric bill." With my parents' death settlement, I've arranged to pay a few of her bills for the first year I'm in France, but I refuse to tell her that. To someone like Delphine, that's permission to go on a bender, and she's been attempting to dry up recently, at least on a more functional and less destructive level.

"You good for the rest of the month?" I fold my shirt for the third time.

He'll be okay. He'll be okay.

Frustrated, I unfold it again and restart the process, feeling her eyes on me.

"What?"

"Even if I wasn't okay, I don't want a dime of that piece of shit's money. I'll starve first. "

"Yeah, well, it's necessary for me. Don't let my brother suffer because of your prejudice," I warn her. "He's suffered enough."

"Why camping?"

"We have a lot to discuss."

She bites her lip, steps in, and shuts the door. "You're sure this is what you want to do?"

"We've gone over this."

"And you're telling them now? You think they'll even understand?"

"They've listened in on some of the meetings. It's a risk I have to take. They need to start paying attention. At some point, they'll either remain at play or step up, but I'm willing to bet it's the latter. He's brilliant, but he's still just a kid."

She laughs. "So are you."

She remains unmoving where she is, and it grates on me as I refold the same shirt, unable to keep proper count with an audience. Sweat beads at my temple, and I fucking resent she's standing there, watching my every move as the familiar pulse and unease sets in.

"What?"

"Your parents would be proud." I look up to see her glassy-eyed. She's gotten softer over the years, more of a sentimental drunk than a mean one. "I've shamed them with the way I've handled this." A rare confession coming from her. Something is up.

I walk over to where she stands. My aunt is one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen but has been tarnished by a life that's stolen most of the good left in her. She'll never walk a straight line emotionally, and I'll never be able to fully trust her with my brother because of the way she treats herself. That's why I'll be home every six weeks and will be spending every single holiday break and summer in Triple Falls. I refuse to let her be the one to shape the rest of him. "You want to make it right?"

"I'm far past the point of redemption, nephew," she admits, not quite meeting my stare .

"Maybe," I agree, "but if you're sincere." I lower my voice. "Traite-le bien." Treat him well .

"I've been trying to talk to him." There's hope in her voice, and that aids in lessening some of the panic I feel.

"He doesn't need another friend. He needs authority now, more than ever. But you have to have his respect for him to listen. Tell him your stories. Tell him what you've told me. Tell him your past. That's a good way to earn it. Sois ferme. Mais traite-le bien. Il te résiste maintenant. Les choses ne changeront pas du jour au lendemain, mais si tu restes ferme, il s'y fera. Fais cela et tu auras gagné ma confiance." Be firm. But treat him well. He's immune to you now. Things won't change overnight, but if you remain the same, he'll fall in line. Do this, and you will have earned my trust.

"Your French is much better," she comments.

"I know." I was rusty for a while and failed Dominic in keeping his native tongue.

"Smug little bastard," she mutters before looking up at me with concern. I surpassed her height years ago. "You're sure about this? You know who to contact once you get there?"

"I've got it. I've had it for a long time."

"Okay." She pulls the shirt from my hand and rolls it instead of folding it before tucking it snugly into my bag. "It won't wrinkle this way. Not that it matters, but..." she shrugs.

I look down at the shirt and then back to her before taking them all out and rolling them up the same way.

She laughs. "Mr. Know It All doesn't know it all just yet. This will honor your papa. He talked a lot about—"

"Talk." I shake my head, irritated. "No more talk . I'm tired of talk , and if they become a part of it—" I nod in the direction of Dominic's room—"they have to know what's happening. He thinks I'm leaving to get away from here, from him." The words pain me.

"I thought you were leaving to get away from me." Her self-deprecating laugh says it all. This is the closest I'll ever get to an apology.

"We've survived this long." It's the nicest thing I can say about it. She leveled out enough after an explosive fight between us and started hosting the meetings. As much as I'm disgusted by some of her behavior, I have some admiration for the way she conducts herself; unshakable in her beliefs, hardcore in her delivery.

"You're not going to let the others in on this?" She's referring to the core members who show up for the meetings.

"Not yet."

"You think that's wise?"

"I think if I fuck up this attempt, it won't help me if they know I did."

"Just be careful. These people you're looking for aren't to be messed with, Ezekiel. The sort your father—"

"If you're not careful, Delphine, you're going to sound maternal."

"God forbid," she jests, but it's genuine worry in her voice and her expression.

Not one to linger, especially on feelings, she takes her leave, but pops her head back in just before she shuts my door. "You're really going to do this, Tobias. I know it."

"Yeah, I really fucking am. And they will too." I nod toward Dominic's room. "Mark my words. They were born for this."

*

Sitting in the high back chair in front of a roaring fire, fingers hovering above the keyboard of my laptop, I get lost in the memory of that night around the campfire, the night I unearthed my plans. Less than a week later, I was hugging my baby brother tightly to me, fighting tears as he struggled to free himself from my grip. I'd embarrassed him publicly with my emotions. The memory of that has me tightening my grip on the velvet arms of the chair. I come to when Beau pops to life at my feet, ears perking before he lays his jaw back to rest on his paws. It's when he lifts again that I hear a faint, pained mewl coming from the bedroom. Chest lurching, I close my eyes and curse, her agonized whimper growing louder as I close my laptop and jump to my feet. Beau stalks next to me as we rush toward the bedroom. Once inside, I click on her lamp and gaze down to see her face twisted, forehead covered in sweat, and her arm jerking at her side. A dream or a nightmare? Either way, I can't stand the state she's in. When we were together before, she would wake me with her subtle movements or light laughter, and I would watch her, curious as to what she was dreaming about and anticipate hearing about it in the morning. It was a much different situation than now, and these dreams are far different as well.

It's when a sob bursts from her that I clench my fists, determined to take the burden away.

I did this. I will undo this.

Sidling up on the edge of the bed, I lean over and kiss her temple, and she barely rouses before sinking back into her dream state.

"Dis-moi contre qui me battre, et je me battrai jusqu'à ce qu'ils disparaissent." Tell me who to fight. I will fight until they all go away. It's when tears start to coat her cheeks that I gently lift her to my chest, her arms limp at her sides.

"Dis-moi comment réparer cela. Dis-moi, mon amour. Je ferai n'importe quoi." Tell me how to fix this. Tell me, my love. I'll do anything. Another sob escapes her as she comes to, and I hold her tightly to me to try and keep her grounded.

"Ce n'est qu'un rêve, Trésor. Je suis là. Je suis là." Just a dream, treasure. I'm here. I'm here.

My name spills in a guttural cry from her lips as my chest caves in, and sobs begin to pour out of her, her body shaking as tears glide down her cheeks. I kiss them away one by one as she tries to speak but cries instead, clinging to me.

"It's okay, Cecelia. It's okay." Silent cries wrack her body as she claws my back, and I kiss her face, her lips, her nose, her temple before lowering my mouth to her ear.

"I'm here." I can't promise her nothing bad will happen or that no monsters are lurking in the shadows, because there are. I can only try to protect her from them and from the damage the dormant monster inside of me can cause her. Finally coming to, she tenses and sniffles, gathering herself, and I release her, her swollen eyes lifting to mine .

"Tell me."

"Not now," she rasps out, gaze dropping. "I guess I woke you?"

"No, I was in the living room, on my laptop."

"You can't sleep?"

"I'm still a little jet-lagged. You sure you don't want to tell me?"

"It was just a dream." That statement and her posture strips all the intimacy out of the moment. Her guard is back up and firmly in place. I try to crowd her a little to keep her close to me, in hopes of a confession, but release her when she pulls away, shifts around me, and stands. "I'm fine."

I grab her hand before she can fully retreat. "Don't lie to me."

She tenses before glancing over her shoulder down to where I sit on the edge of the bed. Resentment. It's so clear, her voice frigid when she speaks. "That's a bold request."

"I'm aware."

"You want honesty?" She pulls her hand away. "I've been through years of these dreams without you ."

That statement, along with the firm echo of the bathroom door shutting behind her, lets me know exactly where I stand.

She doesn't need me, but that much I knew. She's become her own woman, independent, fiercely so, and so much fucking stronger. She doesn't need me, and that's a fact I'll have to live with and respect her for.

I just need to make her want me again.

Her face is clear when she emerges minutes later, posture stoic when her eyes lift to mine.

Challenge.

My fighter.

She's daring me to press her, but tonight I won't. Fisting my T-shirt, I pull it over my head and toss it to the floor. Her gaze drops when I push off my sweatpants and step out of them. We haven't been intimate in months, in truth, years, because of the way I took her the last time in my gin-infused rage, something I'll never forgive myself for. There's nothing I want more than to erase that as the last time I had her, replace that memory, replace the lingering sound of her anguished cries with moans of pleasure. But even if she were free of those head-to-foot fucking flannel pajamas, I wouldn't take her. Not with the cautious hesitation in her eyes, the fear. It doesn't stop me from needing her or growing hard at the sight of the beautifully structured equal she's grown into. She bristles when I walk over to where she stands, angry, emotionally confused, tormented by a past I can't change and mistakes I can't erase.

"I don't know how this goes either," I breathe. "I don't know how long it's going to take, or what words to say, or what moves to make. I have no plans, Cecelia, none." I grip her hand and lead her back to bed. She lays with her back to me, wordless, and I pull her into my chest, my arms wrapped around her.

Her scent, the comfort of knowing she's safe, eases some of the blow of her cries. I wait, hope for her explanation, hope that I wasn't the cause of her tears, but nothing comes.

Time. My goddamn enemy, an invisible force I've never been able to defeat. Seconds to save my brother, now years between me and the woman I love, all due to my judgments, my mistakes. And it's time that rears its ugly head at me now, mocking me, the main reason for the barrier between us.

She's lived so much life without me.

The irony? I have to make peace with my nemesis because it's the only thing that can heal us.

"Ce rêve dans lequel nous sommes tous les deux. Emmène-moi avec toi." This dream we go into together. Take me with you.

She grips my hand, the one palming her stomach, and not long after, she drifts away and takes me with her.

I wake up alone.