“Say it.”
“It was refreshingly bad,” she mumbled.
Angelo’s eyebrows shot up.
Words rushed to her throat, so many of them that she knew if she tried to say all of them she would just end up speaking gibberish.
Closing her eyes, she pretended she was hearing his laugh, and as the sound washed over her, so vivid it almost made her want to grasp the sound and never let go, she remembered the other fallen angel in her life.
The words spilled out of her.
“Your laugh, it reminds me of my mother.” Lane’s voice was tight with remembered pain. “She was kind, but she wasn’t perfect.” And without looking at him, she told Angelo everything. Every humiliating, heartbreaking thing that by the time it was over, she could barely breathe from all the wounds it had reopened in her heart.
She opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was Angelo’s ashen face.
“I’m sorry, Lane.”
Oh.
Memories of her grandfather were agonizing.
The strangers in the hallway were terrifying.
But none of those things had threatened to break Lane the way her heart started to shatter at hearing Angelo call her...
Lane.
Like she was no one, and her name was just letters stitched together.
No ‘tesoro.’
No ‘my Lane.’
Was she just Lane now because he knew the truth?
“I’M SORRY.” ANGELO felt he had to repeat the words when only silence answered him. He waited for her to say something, but there was none. He raised his gaze to hers—-
And that was when he heard it.
Lane’s cry of pain, silent, broken, and coming not from her lips but her heart.
His chest clenched at the soundless tangible cry, but he told himself he couldn’t let it get to him.
And then Lane started to speak in a painful rush.
“Y-you may not believe me, but I’m usually b-better at controlling t-these things. It’s been years since the last time I fainted. I’m not lying. I just need to be mentally prepared, and normally I am—-” She had to stop because she could no longer breathe, the fear was just too great. She was afraid of losing him, of having him turn his back on her without giving this – them – a chance.
But Angelo didn’t say a thing, only stared at her, and terror threatened to eclipse her world.
“I’m usually better, Angelo, please believe me, I don’t faint every day. It’s just that your wealth took me by surprise, and then I saw your house—-” She knew she should stop to sort herself out, but the words just kept coming, like they were the only way to stop the tears. “It was one thing after another, and then when those men came—-”
Angelo flinched. “Lane—-”
Don’t call me that, she wanted to scream, and a sob caught in her throat.
Fuck. The despair in her gaze seared him.
“I’m better now,” Lane insisted. “I won’t be taken by surprise again, I promise. I mean it, Angelo.”
And then she tried to smile, and it was like seeing an invisible wound—-
A wound he alone could see, a wound he alone could stop from bleeding.
And because he knew this, Angelo hardened his heart.
He said nothing.
He did nothing.
He only gazed impassively at her, telling himself that the only way to give her a quick, clean break was to let her...bleed.
Seconds ticked by, and the continued silence tore at Lane.
Was he truly not going to say anything?
Was he truly going to let things between them end just like that?
“Please say something,” she choked out.
But there was only silence, tearing her apart, again and again, and she blurted out, “Is this your w-well-mannered way of telling me that it’s been fun while it lasted—-” Hysteria tinged Lane’s voice. “Or m-maybe you’re going to say other clichéd thing? It’s not you, it’s me, and all that bull?”
But Angelo’s lips only tightened at her words.
She shook her head furiously. “N-no. I get it. You’re just pulling my leg again. You’re being s-sadistic...right?”
Slowly, he shook his head, and then he said simply, “No.”
Lane whitened.
No?
More sobs tried to claw out of her throat as she tried to digest it in.
No, he was not being sadistic.
No, he was not pulling her leg.
No, he wasn’t pretending, but he simply wanted to send her away.
So go, Lane’s mind begged her.
Leave now before you completely lose what little pride you have left.
Do it with dignity.
And Lane wanted to do it.
Her pride demanded it.
But then she remembered Laura’s words, remembered how Laura didn’t regret taking the risks she took because she had wanted to seize every new day in her life, and Lane knew she owed it to herself not to give up.
She whispered, “Please don’t send me away.”
Angelo stiffened.
“I p-promise I won’t cause you any trouble again.”
But still he remained unmoving and silent.
She bit her lip hard as she looked at him. He had his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him, and his gaze focused on the windows – away from her.