I shift my sight across from him to the other side of the desk where I once watched footage of my own assault. Carter is conversing with his boss, earning himself all of Clay's attention. Clay rubs his jaw in contemplation, but he's glacial in every inch of his powerful suited body. His eyes are glued to the monitor ahead. He's getting the job in order.
Dutifully, without emotions.
So very Clay Butcher.
And he doesn't look up.
Not once. But he knows I'm here. He always does—
My stomach twists.
He's ignoring me on purpose.Maybe… he knows he is making the wrong decision but simply can't bring himself to change it… maybe? He's so heavily wrapped in the promises that binds him to me.
To protect me.
To keep me.
To choose me.
"I'll always choose to protect you, little deer."
That he can't see what needs to happen. I gaze at him, adrift for a moment in his beauty, the tense lines of his sharp jaw, the gravity of his blue eyes. He's spectacular. I was half right: belonging to him is the sweetest of existences but being loved by this man… I sigh. It's like starting anew with wings.
My eyes well up.
I can't accept his choice.God,I wanted Benji to choose me, my mum too, anyone, but I can’t accept his choice, not when it's at his own expense and not at Xander's.
It's a cruel fucking joke, but I'd rather lose him, lose myself, lose this whole wonderful life than have himloseXander and blame himself. He already carries enough guilt. I can't allow it. I'd rather be a sweet memory in his mind. A sweet girl who he was very fond of once…
Who he loved…
I smile at that.
I won't allow him to endure Xander's death. Won't let it start another sequence of bad things. Not this time.
Moving away from the door, I find myself walking in the direction Max disappeared, Henchman Jeeves as my shadow.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
fawn
I gripthe corner of the doorframe, peering around the wall to see the back of Max's large tense shoulders. The room—an office of sorts—is furnished but staged in a way that suggests it doesn’t get used. I've never been in there before.
Max is sitting, leaning forward on his knees, staring at a glass of whiskey on the table in front of him. I wonder if he's crying.Does Max Butcher cry?I wouldn’t know.
There is sadness in this room, that’s for sure. It's chilling. It sweeps around me like a current across a harsh plane. The kind that precedes snow and then a frozen wintery grave. It's lonely. Like, he keeps it to himself. I remember something Cassidy said about him:"Stopping a man like Max Butcher from doing what he feels is right would be like wrapping his heart in chains."
I sigh, thinking about how well Cassidy understands Max. Maybe more than he understands himself. I imagine Clay's emotional state right now. The entire city is his responsibility, his brother and me… how does he not crumble beneath his duties."Trust me, little deer."
Maybe heiscrumbling…
Maybe I would have seen the splintering of his resolve if he had looked at me moments ago…
He doesn't see it yet, but if something happens to Xander, he'll never forgive himself. I need to protect him from this mistake… I need to be at the campsite. I need to go with Max. And I need to get HJ off my damn heels.
Taking a big breath in, I close the door. Heading to the lounge area, I see the play pen. Inside, my kitten tumbles with a ball of wool, flipping around with it, the static of the wool caught in her needle-like claws. I pick her and the wool up, hold her to my face and fight back tears.
I whisper, "I'm sorry I can't play with you today." Then I put her back in the pen, and with my shadow—HJ—making a poor effort to give me a wide berth, I search the halls.