Stepbrother Thief(102)

Somehow, someway, he seems to feel that something big is coming and pulls over, just parks us on the side of a suburban street sparkling with fresh rain and white Christmas lights.

This time, when he turns to look at me, the full force of his gaze is like a heat wave, rocking me back and forcing me to sit up straight or wilt beneath the passion in it; I choose to face it head-on.

“Take a walk with me?” I ask, echoing Gill's words from that day at the hotel. He looks at me for a long while and nods, opening his door and stepping out into the rain. I follow suit in my four inch heels, knowing they're going to be almost as trashed as my poor feet after this. Oh well. Compared to the pulsing ache in my heart, this is nothing.

“I've got an umbrella,” Gill says, but I grab his wrist before he can move to get it. I know it's raining, and I know I'm going to get soaked, but I can't wait anymore. I have to say this and I have to say it now.

“Walk with me.” I reach down and squeeze Gill's hand, the hot warmth of it searing through me. It almost feels like the rain should be sizzling when it hits us, turning to steam and drifting off to join the distant stars. I grit my teeth and shake my head, trying to keep myself calm, logical, thoughtful. Because, really, I've put a lot of thought into this—but I've also got a lot of heart invested. And some of it's broken, and some of it's still bleeding, but it's all still there and I'm starting to wonder if it might not be so bad to try to put it back together with Gill's help.

We start off down the sidewalk, rain pattering softly on green lawns, sloped roofs, dragging my carefully styled hair into my eyes. The drops sneak inside my coat, no matter how hard I try to keep them out, sliding down the back of my neck, beneath the lace of my dress.

“We never seem to be able to get to our destination, do we?” Gill asks with a small smile. I can tell he's nervous. The tight set of his shoulders, the tenseness in his fingers, the strength with which he squeezes my hand. He wants this. Bad. Probably more than I do. And I want it, too. I'm still struggling with the idea, but it's there and it won't go away. I almost quote Solène's words back at him.

It's not about the destination, but the journey. If you'd already arrived where you were meant to be, then how would you ever enjoy the ride to get there.

Instead, I wait, letting the words curl up inside of me, stepping over puddles in an attempt to save my shoes from the worst of it.

“I don't know what you're going to tell me,” I say, running my tongue across my lower lip, tasting sweet Seattle rain, “but it doesn't matter.” Gill tries to stop walking, but I drag him along with me, shivering against the cool breeze scraping past my lower legs.

“Regina,” he says, his voice a rough plea that I ignore. His words don't matter right now; I've made my choice.

“Gilleon, listen to me,” I say, pausing and turning, forcing him to look at me, the stray strands of a distant porch light limning his dark head in light, turning his face to shadow but highlighting the full curve of his lower lip. Somehow, I've manged to stop us beneath the branches of a massive tree, providing at least a little bit of cover from the increasing fury of the sky. The rain slams down in sheets, leaking between the leaves and splattering on my nose. “I've known this since the first moment I saw you, when you looked at me with a blank face and a closed heart.” Even though my stepbrother's in shadow, I can visibly see him tense further, a primal sort of fear infusing the rigid movements of his body as he runs a hand through his damp hair, droplets sprinkling across my face.

This is going to shock the shit out of him, isn't it? I think with a small amount of triumph.

My heartbeat picks up speed; my breath catches in my chest.

“Gill, I still love you,” I say, prefacing my statement with those ever important words. I think it's virtually impossible to say I love you too much. For whatever reason, that scares the crap out of him and he takes a step forward, caressing my jaw with wet fingers.

Big breath here, the feel of my heart racing in my chest, pulse pounding in my head. I lift up a hand and push aside the black wool of my coat to touch the pendant.

“Gilleon …” There's a million ways to say this, an infinite number of phrases that could work to convey what I need to tell him, but I can think of only one. “I forgive you.”

Gill swallows hard, throat moving as he turns his head to the side and runs his hand over his mouth, knocking stray droplets of rain water to the pavement.

I'm shaking right now, but I don't know why. The cold maybe? The wet? No, I don't really think it's either of those things. I let out a breath and it comes out in a rush, fogging in the autumn air. I feel … lighter somehow. I'd told myself I wasn't holding a grudge, that it didn't matter anymore, that I'd grown past it, but that wasn't entirely true. This, it was this moment I'd been waiting for, a second in time ten years in the making.