“I’m sorry,” I say again, softer this time and meaning it. I like to live without fear, but I never want to put others at risk in order for me to live my life.
“Sorry isn’t good enough, not this time.”
I narrow my eyes, trying to make out his expression through the rain.
“Ri’s pregnant. I won’t let her risk her life to protect you, not anymore. It’s our child’s life she’s risking every time she has to save your selfish ass,” Beckett says.
My mouth falls open. I’m so happy for them but feel so incredibly stupid. I would have never risked their future baby’s life for mine.Never.
Before I can respond, Beckett is climbing back in the SUV and driving off. When I turn back toward the apartment building, Lennox is standing there, watching with as much disappointment on his face as I feel.
Fuck.
Chapter9
Lennox
From the shadowsof the apartment building’s awning, I listen to Beckett confirm what I already knew to be true—Ri is pregnant. I watch shock spread across Rialta’s face.
So she didn’t know. I figured Ri would have told her. I guess that makes me forgive Rialta a little for not knowingly putting Ri at risk, but only just a little. Rage is coursing through my veins still, and it’s taking everything inside me not to teach Rialta a lesson right here.
I love Ri like a sister. I want her to be happy, and she desperately wants a baby. It makes me irate that Rialta risked Ri’s baby’s life.
I force myself to take a deep breath to decrease the odds of me strangling Rialta. Then I make a mental note to throw a party to celebrate Ri and Beckett’s baby when I get a chance.
Beckett finishes talking and then nods in my direction, as if saying she’s my problem now. I watch him walk back to their SUV and take off.
He’s right. Rialta is my problem now, and I won’t let Ri and Beckett be her sole protectors anymore. They have bigger things to worry about than babysitting a moody twenty-one-year-old who still acts like she’s sixteen most of the time.
Rialta is yet to acknowledge my presence as I step out of the rain toward her. I grab her bicep and lead her into the apartment building. She’s soaked, wearing nothing but one of my white T-shirts. The wet shirt is thin and entirely see-through now. She isn’t wearing anything underneath—no bra or underwear. Her hair is dripping in wet cords, and her arms are tied behind her back.
As I wordlessly guide her to the stairs, I can’t tell if she’s crying or if it’s the rain dripping off her black eyelashes.
“We aren’t taking the elevator?” she asks.
“No,” is the only answer I give her. I need time before being alone with her in my apartment. Otherwise, I’m likely to decide marrying her is a horrible decision and completely change my plan. Climbing the stairs will get out some of my frustration and give her time to contemplate her night’s decisions.
She doesn’t protest as we start up the stairs. We climb the flights in silence, and my frustration ever so slightly eases.
When we make it upstairs, Gage and Hayes are waiting in the hallway with worried faces.
“Lennox, we—” Hayes starts.
“Not now. You two fucked up, and I’ll deal with you later,” I snap. It’s the first time I’ve ever bossed them around. Even though we’re all the same age, I’ve always felt like the older brother. I’ve always taken the blame for their actions, always cleaned up their messes.
I’m tired of it.
Gage opens his mouth to object, but he immediately shuts it when steam comes out of my nostrils, and the vein pops on my forehead. I push Rialta into my apartment and slam the door shut.
Rialta’s shoulders rise and fall sharply as she stands in the living room of my apartment, once again staring out the window into the night. I don’t know what time it is, just that it’s late.
I was such a fool for thinking we had made progress tonight. Of course, she would run off instead of doing the compliant thing—staying the fuck in my apartment.
Rialta turns and faces me. Water is dripping off her down onto my rug. She looks like a sad, wet puppy about to be scolded. She is right about one thing—I intend to teach her a lesson.
“Are you going to untie me?” she asks.
“No,” I answer, even though I suspect she already guessed that. “You got yourself into this mess; you can get yourself out.”