Page 49 of Give Me Peace

Not so asleep then.

“Sorry,” I mumble, pulling back to give him some space. Despite being in one position all night, I don’t feel sore or achy.

“Don’t be.” He smiles and turns to his side. I grimace at the purple bruising tinting his split lip.

“What’s this one mean?” I point to a leaf on his forearm, hoping to distract us from thinking about last night.

Havok smirks, a small chuckle escaping. “That would be a maple leaf. We did a marksmanship competition a little over a year ago and I made a bet with the Canadian team that we’d out-shoot them. Winner got to pick the tattoo the other one would get. They kicked our asses, and since I’m the one who started shit-talking and couldn’t back it up, the guys agreed it was my body that would be getting defaced. They chose a prominent symbol of Canada so I’d always be reminded of the time our brothers to the north took home the win.”

My grin grows as the story progresses, but I’m not really surprised Havok would agree to—and follow through with—something so crazy. I think he enjoys the shock factor of doing and saying things most people wouldn’t. He’s always been a very blunt person.

“I think Ro needs you right now,” he whispers, his eyes finding mine. The abrupt change in subject throws me, but Havok barrels on before I can say anything. “I know he reacted poorly, but you deserve to have someone in your corner who’d got to bat for you the way he did.”

“I didn’t ask him to do that,” I argue.

“I know.” He nods, licking his lips. “And if the roles were reversed and he was the one admitting to treating you the way I did, not to mention keeping it a secret from the rest of us, I probably would’ve punched him, too. Or tried, at least. He’s really fucking tall.” He smirks, but I find it hard to make light of the situation.

“I guess I’m feeling conflicted,” I admit. “I regret screaming at him, but it was wrong for him to hit you. I don’t want to be the reason for issues between you guys. It would make me feel like my being here is causing a rift.”

“No, Say.” He shakes his head sadly. “Ro and I fucked up, but it wasn’t because of you. We’re grown ass men who know better. He should’ve kept control of his emotions and I should’ve owned up to my mistakes a long time ago. I’m not mad at him, though. You won’t agree, but I needed him to hit me. Being able to apologize to you was everything, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. I deserve to hurt the way I made you hurt.”

I blink away the building tears, the underlying context too much for my heart to handle. Havok doesn’t just mean the times he was mean to me at school. He blames himself for the years of hurt and torment I experienced as well, but that’s not his burden to bear.

“I’ve already forgiven you; please let it go. These past five years…that blame lies on Liam. He chose to take and hurt me, not you, so stop feeling guilty for things you were never a part of.” Havok wraps his pinky around mine, and even though he doesn’t argue, I’m not sure he believes he holds no responsibility. He’s grown and changed so much, proved by the fact that he was the one who got punched in the face, yet he’s worried about what his friend is going through. But he has to figure out a way to move past the anger he harbors for himself or it’s going to eat him alive.

“I’ll go find Roan,” I promise, slowly working my way free from the blankets piled across his bed.

“Thank you.” Havok smiles, his eye closing as he covers back up. “I’m gonna sleep off my ass whoopin’ a little longer.” I huff a laugh, closing his door behind me.

I shower quickly, pulling on Roan’s sweater once I’m dried off. After laundry was done, the guys’ clothes I’ve confiscated were placed back in my room, so I guess they don’t mind me hanging on to any of it. I feel this huge disconnect with him now, and I’m worried I’ve royally screwed up. I just want to fix it and makes things right again. I creep down the hallway, not wanting to wake anyone who might be sleeping. When I step into the main room, Krew is the only person I see. I’ve been avoiding him after our conversation, trying to let the paranoia subside. He’s leaned against the dining table, looking out the slider that leads to the deck, sipping on a mug of coffee.

I grab a couple of muffins, likely made by Kash. It’s just after eight, so I wouldn’t be surprised if Krew’s sugar-loving counterpart is up and about somewhere. Placing two bottles of water in the crook of my free arm, I turn to face Krew, who I’ve yet to acknowledge.

“Good morning,” I greet him softly. He dips his chin in my direction, forgoing a verbal response. “Do you know where Roan is?” That gets his attention. Krew’s narrowed brown eyes flit over me, his guarded gaze quickly assessing my motives for seeking out his friend. I swallow thickly.

“He’s downstairs.” He looks away, taking another drink of his coffee. I attempt a hasty exit but struggle to get the door open. “For the record, he’s probably not up for company.” Too scared to open my mouth, I simply nod my understanding. Krew leans around me and twists the knob. I can feel the heat from his body against my back. His nearness, combined with the flat, unemotional tone he’s speaking to me in has me scurrying down the steps so fast, it’s a wonder I don’t bust my ass. I’d rather face Roan.

A faint light filters through the glass walls of the gym, and since the rest of the area is completely dark, I decide to start there. Pushing through the door, I’m greeted by the low bass of a song thumping through the built-in speakers. My steps are hesitant as I navigate the maze of equipment, my eyes searching for any sign of movement. When I step past a weight machine and the back of the room comes into view, I stop short.

My heart stutters at the sight of Roan sitting on the floor, his back braced against wall with his elbows balanced on his bent knees. His head his hung, but it’s obvious he’s drenched in sweat, as if he’s been working out all night and only recently stopped for a break. Looking closer, I notice there’s a slight shake to his hands. My gut twists with guilt.

“Roan?” I move closer, worried he can’t hear me over the soft music, but his eyes find mine immediately. I scan his face, noting how wrecked he looks. Taking a seat in front of him, I cross my legs and place a water and muffin between us. As far as peace offerings go, it’s not the greatest, but he really looks like he could use both. Roan pulls his phone out and taps the screen. A second later the music stops, blanketing us in silence.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I tell him quietly, deciding to speak first since he’s watching me like he’s questioning if I’m really here or not.

“Don’t be.” He shakes his head, reaching for the water. “I’m so fucking proud of you.” He grins sadly at the confused look I give him. “You put me in my place—called me on my shit without worry of repercussion. Because you trust us. You know you’re free to speak your mind, and when you’re finished, you’ll still be safe.” Huh. He might be right, or it could’ve just been the heat of the moment.

“I’m the one that’s sorry. I feel like I keep fucking shit up with you. Making mistakes left and right.” Roan drops his head back, his gaze pinned to the ceiling.

“You’re not. It wasn’t fair of me to compare what you did to Havok, to what Liam did to me. That was just…cruel.” I bite my lip, frustrated I ever spoke those words and gave them power.

“It triggered all those times that asshole took his anger out on you. Regardless, I should’ve known better than to get physical like that.” Roan looks at me, his green eyes filled with remorse. “It feels like history’s repeating itself.”

“What do you mean?” I question, my brows drawn together.

“I had a sister. Elira. I told you that we came to the states when I was a kid, but we actually fled here. My father was involved with the Albanian mafia. Racked up a debt he couldn’t pay, so he took us and ran. But they found us.” His jaw tics. “They killed Elira as payment and my father was the one who handed her over. We were forced to watch and nothing about her death was quick or painless. I failed her, and it feels like I’m doing the same with you.” My lip’s part, a shocked, heartbroken sound slipping out unbidden.

“I don’t know what to say, Roan.” I shake my head, discretely wiping at the tears threatening to spill over. “I can’t imagine going through something like that, and I’m so sorry you had to. Do I remind you of her?” I ask, trying to understand why he’s comparing our situations. I’m here and alive, in huge part to him, so he clearly hasn’t failed me.