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“You are deeply helpful sometimes,” she says, and I shrug.

“I know, it’s a personality flaw. We can’t all be perfect.”

She takes a deep breath, and we walk back toward the house. Kayla knocks on Mabel’s door, while I stand back a little to give her some space. The door opens, and both women cry and hug, which makes me a little uncomfortable, but I stand there patiently, waiting for them to finish. Kayla steps back and wipes her eyes, then I follow her to the truck and open her door, and she climbs in. After closing her door, I walk around to the driver’s side, get in, and pull out onto the street.

“I’m going to miss her,” Kayla says sadly.

I place my hand on her thigh and drive toward the island.

Home.

Where she now belongs. Though, fuck me, I don’t know what I have done to deserve this. I can’t offer her things that the others can.

Halfway back to the island, she falls asleep with her head pressed against the door. I think back to how she told me she loves me. It’s the first time in my life that someone who said it to me meant it and didn’t plan to use it against me. I haven’t opened up to her about my past, but it is best kept away from her goodness. My guardian was a piece of shit, and the abuse along with everything else they put me through is not something I will ever rehash. There is no point in bringing it up. Therapists have tried talking to me about it, but it’s hard to understand the extent of it when I can’t process the emotions I don’t have. I may not always know the difference between right and wrong, but I know I didn’t deserve what happened.

All I know is when I told her whatever I was capable of was hers, I meant those words. I don’t know if that’s love—I have no reference point—but it’s a start.

It’s a place I can mark in my system, one I have created in my brain just for her. A reminder that she is someone I cannot manipulate, and I don’t need to because she is here of her own free will. Kayla knows what I am capable of, yet she trusts me to do the right thing. It helps that she can see right through me; it will keep me accountable, because fuck knows she is going to have to. There may be days I will slip up, and I can’t risk losing her. And I’ll need her to call me out each and every time.

At a red light, I reach over and brush the hair from her face, and she grumbles. She stays asleep the entire way back, and when I pull up outside the house, I sit and watch her just for a little while longer.

This is her new home.

It won’t be quiet like her loft. It’s going to be loud and chaotic. Vero will be all over her like a rash every chance he can get, but I know she will love it. It will be everything she has always wanted—I’ll make sure of it.

I put my hand on her shoulder, shaking her slightly. “We’re home,” I whisper.

She blinks her eyes open and smiles. “For the first time in my life, it really feels like I am.”

Chapter Seventeen

Kayla

I walk into the kitchen at seven, just as I’ve been instructed, wearing the new dress Vero got me for my birthday. All four of my men yell, “Surprise!” and Vero beams at me. I see the cake he has clearly decorated himself, covered with an alarming amount of black buttercream icing and what I presume is a black skull made from fondant wearing a party hat.

It is objectively the ugliest cake I have ever seen in my life, and I love it so much.

“You made this yourself?” I ask Vero.

“I did,” he says with the biggest smile I have ever seen. “Gerald helped with the decorating. Well, he stood there and told me what I was doing wrong.”

“It’s perfect,” I say, and he launches himself at me, pulling me into his body.

Ares lights the candles, and they all sing happy birthday. Then they make me blow out all the twenty-seven candles Vero managed to fit onto the cake, which is on a lean, and was definitely a fire hazard for a few minutes.

Clay cuts the cake, mainly because no one trusts Vero with a knife. We all sit around and eat, and thankfully it tastes amazing.

Tonight they promised me a chase, no holding back. Ever since I was attacked by Aaron, they have all been walking on eggshells around me, not wanting to trigger memories.

But I don’t want to live like that any longer.

The case with Aaron is now closed. There was no evidence tying him to me or the island, and the cops believe he skipped town.

“Are you sure about tonight?” Clay asks.

“Yes,” I reassure him for the millionth time.

“She has her safe word,” Vero adds.