In the end, she came out stronger than before—a little spitfire with a big appetite for life and love.
The cause of the breakdown was the beginning of my parents’ love story. Both were kidnapped by Roan’s now dead brother, Royal. He tied up my father and forced him to watch as he tortured Mom. That merciless man cut her in several places, leaving physical and mental scars. When she returned home and worked things out with Dad, she said that the mental ones eventually healed with him by her side and with the love they fought to have.
But she always had a nagging worry something would happen to spiral her world out of control and cause her to relapse.
Luckily, nothing ever did until Diesel went to prison. Mom didn’t break entirely. She let her emotions out by crying. She told me over the phone that it made her feel better. That it was her way to rid herself of the grief. To deal with the pain of not seeing or talking to one of her children whenever she could.
I want nothing more than to cry, to drain my sadness, frustration, and tension out of me.
Relief through tears.
In the last twenty-four hours, hell, in the past month, I’ve been dragged through so much that if one more thing happens, I’ll fall into a bottomless pit.
I’m mentally drained. So uncertain of anything except the need to scrape some of these raw emotions out of me.
I’m tired of faking that I’m okay when I’m so far from it, I can’t see straight, but I don’t want anyone to worry about me. I’ve always been that type of person, and if Seth is right about anything, I haven’t fully grieved. I need to before I have a breakdown like my mother, and in doing so, it would cripple the Empire, my dad, and brothers all the more.
Hate runs through my veins. I wouldn’t be out of sorts if it weren’t for whoever killed my family. They’ve left me struggling to think rationally. Surfacing emotions that have me on the brink.
I continue pacing the bedroom floor, wearing down the carpet with every step, and I wonder if this is how my mother felt when she started to come undone.
Where every bit of you unravels like a skein of yarn.
Tangling and knotting and never put back together quite the same.
Blowing out a sigh and rubbing my temples, I shoot down my misery, my thoughts traveling to Seth.
I swear that man is taking up more space inside me by the second.
I didn’t mind the way he took control of my body earlier. I only struck out at him because of a lifelong fear when I shouldn’t have. I long to submit myself to him again, to feel him inside me.
With Seth, there’s something between us I can’t explain. I feel desired and wanted by him, which scares me because he’s so right about me being afraid to love, among other things, when it comes to him.
Although, I can’t help to wonder what it might be like, to have Seth own me and me him. To breathe his air. To live and love and have it in return. To catch one another’s eyes from across the room, not caring if the whole world sees how much you want one another.
I’ve seen those kinds of looks my entire life, and I’ve wanted that kind of love, but I’ve stayed clear of it. I always kept my distance from men in the mafia. It’s completely ridiculous how Seth makes me hunger and desire and question all the promises I’d made to myself.
And no one has ever looked at me the way he has before. Like I’m everything he’s been missing his entire life. No one has gotten close enough to say they want me and no one else.
Everything he said is jumping around in my head: all the words, the looks, and the kiss, so slow and tender. I want to believe them to be true. I want to believe Seth will be faithful to me. I want to think I’m different from every woman before me.
Even Meghan, just as he said.
Now I wonder if I could share my grief and fears with him? Could I trust him not to tell anyone? Would he still look at me the same way he did, like he wanted to take away all my pain if he could and comfort me when I cry? I believe he would, and that’s part of what feels strange to me. That plus, I never thought he’d come back and honestly want me.
Why I didn’t tell him what my real fears are, I’ve no idea. Maybe I want him to stew in misery. Because Lord knows I’m just a minute or two away from boiling over in mine.
Exposed.
That’s how he makes me feel. From day one, he’s been able to see inside me. Only this time, there’s nowhere for me to run and hide. It only took Seth minutes for him to bring my tears to the surface when I haven’t shed a single one since the night I lost so much. If I tried to rein them in now, I’d surely break.
I don’t know if I should thank him or hit him again and again for coming on so strong. I knew he’d create havoc for me. But I never thought he’d confess the things he did. I never expected these feelings for him to fly at me out of nowhere.
Maybe they’ve been there all along.
There’s so much more bottled inside me, too—a giant Pandora’s box. I’ve kept so many things to myself for so long that I wouldn’t know where to begin telling someone without them thinking I’ve indeed done lost my mind.
Now is the time I need my sister.
“Damn you, Seth. You are driving me crazy.”
That’s what Seth does to me, though. He drives me stark raving mad. With the way his mouth pulls into an arrogant smirk, the way he told me he
