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I’m not sure anything can mend him, not even love.
Blinking a few times to stop the thought from taking root in my mind, I focus on our conversation. I don’t know why he mentioned my mother, but right now, I don’t want to think about her.
When my mother married Leonard Harding, I thought World War Three would break out when two broken families joined into one. Kelli became my stepsister, and I had to deal with her moving into our house. She acted as if she owned the place, so in the end, I chose to hide in the shadows.
“What are you looking at?” I ask, gesturing to the laptop.
I can see the turmoil in Tarian’s expression. Rage is emanating from him as his gaze drops to the screen in front of him and he regards whatever is displayed there.
Silence hangs between us.
The atmosphere feels threatening. And for the first time since I’ve been with Tarian, I shiver with a cold trickle of fear.
“My mother left a flash drive with Thane,” he tells me while continuing to stare at the screen. His voice is devoid of any emotion now, as if a switch has been flicked. “There are three letters, two of which I’ve read, but the one addressed to me, I can’t bring myself to open.”
I watch him with curiosity. The idea of Tarian being fearful of anything seems strange. But what’s even more odd is the fact his mother’s written him a letter even though she could tell him what she wants to say, face-to-face.
Why would she do that?
She should talk to him. No matter how angry he is, she owes him that much at least.
“Would you like company while you read it?” I finally offer.
I have a feeling Tarian would never ask for my help. He’s too proud to admit he’s scared, or angry, but his expression speaks volumes.
“I don’t want to talk about the contents,” he says, but before I can respond, he continues. “But I’d like it if you’d stay here with me.”
There’s pain in his words, and the anguish in his confession grips my heart.
Nodding, I settle back in the seat with my drink, and sipping the alcohol, I watch as he wakens the laptop. His gaze locks on the screen, and the corners of his mouth turn down at the sides.
I’m not sure what’s written in his letter, but it’s not good.
Not at all.
When I finally swallow the last of my drink, I stand up, and Tarian’s gaze darts to me. There’s a shimmer in his eyes, and I can tell he’s trying his best to hide his sadness, but I can see it written all over his handsome face.
I hate that I want him because I know he can never offer me the relationship I need.
He’s too closed off to feel anything. Deep down, I thought if I stuck around and showed him he’s worthy of love, he would change. But you can’t force someone to be who you want them to be, and you can’t make them see something they’re not willing to accept. And as much as I want Tarian, I’m just as afraid of what could happen if he did relent and we took that step into unknown territory.
The truth is, whatever happens between us, the chances are I’m going to end up losing him anyway.
I grew up watching Tarian Calvert from afar. He was my first crush, and my unrequited obsession. There was nothing I wouldn’t have done to be near him. But he never saw me as anything other than a naive young girl who tagged along to the Sovereign family get-togethers.
Every year I watched him change—he became more distant, he got colder, and he switched off everything inside that made him human. Maybe having to come to terms with his mother’s choices and his uncle’s actions will finally push him outside his emotionless comfort zone where he likes to hide.
The only time I’ve ever seen Tarian let go of his icy exterior is when he’s with Etienne and Ares—the two men who are like brothers to him. I’ve watched him give them genuine smiles of happiness, rather than the fake, plastered-on grins he gives everyone else.
“Thank you for sitting here,” he tells me, dragging me out of my thoughts. “I’m not someone you should want to be around, Grecia. To be honest, I’m not sure why you’re still here.”
“I’m here because I don’t believe in giving up on my friends.”
Even though I call us friends, it’s a lie.
I know it is. He knows it is.
We’re not friends. We’re something else, something more.
