Stepbrother Thief(85)

But, I can't help but wonder, is it too little, too late?



I take the cell phone Gill gave me into my bathroom and perch on the edge of the refinished claw-foot tub, rubbing my thumb across the screen to unlock it. The picture he left me is still there, the words I'm Sorry, Can You Ever Forgive Me? floating in front of my blurry gaze.

“How the hell did I ever get myself into this mess?” I murmur, my fingers twitching as I consider dialing up Anika or Leilani. But no. They don't need me dragging shit into their life, putting them in danger just because I feel like I need a friend to talk to. It's not fair, and their lives are worth way more than that. Instead, I sigh and turn the screen off, tossing the phone onto the vanity and dropping my head into my hands.

Elena, she's dead because of me.

I try to wrap my head around Gill's words, around the secret that burst from his lips like a bird with wings. That, and the truth of my own heart finally revealing itself. I love him, and I want him back. I feel like it's a disaster waiting to happen, a trap waiting to be sprung, an inevitable future heartbreak, but I can't stop the feelings. They're there and that's that.

I sit up and rub the tears from my face, rising to my feet and staring at my reflection in the mirror. Honey blonde hair curls gently around my shoulders while pale brown eyes stare back at me, the expression on my face so foreign yet so familiar. I lift up a finger and trace the heart-shape of my face, the gentleness of my parted lips. Love. It shimmers in my gaze, layered over heartache and fear and grief.

I close my eyes and turn around, leaning back against the sink as I lift my chin up and let my hair hang down my back as I think things through. After that kind of conversation, most people would just assume that dinner plans were out the window. Not Gill. He'll be downstairs at six waiting for me. I stand up and open my eyes, checking the phone for the time. Five-fifteen.

Okay.

I can do this.

No matter what Gill says to me, I can handle it.

I pull my sweater over my head and drape it over the closed toilet seat, sitting down to pull my heels off. I'll get through this. I will. I'll get through it and I'll do it looking fabulous because my clothes are my armor, my beauty a shield, my makeup a mask. And right now, I could use all the help I can get.

I turn on the water for the shower and finish stripping down in the ensuing steam, letting the warmth caress my naked skin. I can only imagine the filmy mist is Gilleon, curling his body around mine, holding me close, touching me everywhere. Just the idea makes my body throb, my heart pound, my breath catch.

I climb into the shower, letting the hot water wash away Gill's confessions until I can't think of anything but the pressure of the spray on my skin. I wash my hair, condition it, scrub my body, and I manage to keep all of the feelings and the thoughts at bay until I climb out and wrap a towel around myself.

The first thing I do is put the diamond pendant back on, letting it rest against my heated skin as I lay my palm over it and close my eyes.

“Regi.”

Gill's voice startles me so badly that I jump, spinning to face him in a whirl, the towel sliding off my body and hitting the floor with a wet thump.

“Jesus, Gilleon!” I yell, my heart beating frantically as I bend down and snatch the pink fabric back, letting it dangle in front of all my most important bits. “Don't sneak up on me like that!”

My stepbrother's sitting on the edge of my bed, elbows on his knees, hands in fists, chin resting against his knuckles. He glances over at me with a small smile, a real one this time, not even a hint of bitterness. Guess my reaction is funny enough that we can pretend the rest of the day didn't happen—for at least a few minutes anyway. Personally, I could use a break from all of that intensity; you won't find me complaining about a change of subject.

“What are you doing in here?” I ask him, not bothering to inquire why my locked bedroom door did nothing to keep him out. I think Gilleon impulsively picks locks for fun, just to prove that he can. I turn away, sacrificing a small view of my ass so that I can get the towel in order, tucking the end in over my breasts before I spin back to face him.

Gill's blue eyes are half-hooded and dark, drinking in my near-naked form before he turns away like he's ashamed of himself.

“Don't think that just because we had one emotional moment together that you're welcome in my bedroom whenever you damn well feel like it.” I take a deep breath and force myself to stop talking. I'm using anger as a shield right now, and I hate that.

“I don't think that,” Gill says in a near whisper. I watch as he clears his throat, composes himself and turns back to me, rising from the bed until he's standing there looking down at me with a fierce tenderness burning in his eyes. “I was worried about you, Regi. It's almost six-thirty, and I can understand if you don't want to go to dinner, but—”