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  2. Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

  3. Severed Heart: Chapter 41
Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

Severed Heart: Chapter 41

BLINK.
Ringing his number, it’s answered on the second trill.
“Evening, brother,” I greet, beating him to the punch, my heart lighter with the news on the tip of my tongue, but forcing myself mute so as not to deny Delphine what she’s rightfully earned to share herself. Mere days from her victory, her spirits are high despite her grueling daily therapy. It’s then I continually repeat his name for long seconds of the connected call despite hearing his breath clearly on the other end of the line.
“T?” I prompt again, hearing a barrage of background noise, which sounds like a bar, as I steer my truck into a nearby parking lot. Checking my signal, a second later, I hear a French prompt. “En voudriez-vous un autre?” Would you like another?
“T? I think we’ve got a bad connection. I’m going to ring you back.”
Hanging up, I dial his number again. This time it’s answered on the first ring as confusion sets in. It’s as the seconds of silence tick by that the smile I’ve been sporting for days begins to fade with realization. Realization that there’s nothing wrong with our phone connection, but it’s our bond as brother’s that’s rapidly fissuring across the line because of my treachery.
A full minute of silence ticks by as I grapple with what I could possibly fucking say because he’s waiting for the start of a confession. It’s then I physically start to sense the rage coming from the man at the end of the line as the noise around him ceases as if he’s entered a room. Anxiety ramping, I palm my forehead and let out a harsh exhale, knowing I’m fucking damned no matter what words I choose. “I’m so fucking sorry, brother—”
Before I get a full sentence out, he’s gone.
Pulling up to the garage minutes later, I pass Russell, Jeremy, and Peter—who we haven’t let isolate since the night of our latest secret—taking off in one of our FLEET vans on a new mission. They sound a horn in greeting as I pull in, and they speed away. With their absence, I’m thankful when I catch Sean working alone in a bay, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He glances over at me as he secures a part, his eyes lighting up as he greets me.
“Hey there, stranger, I paid your part of the light bill, not that your light is ever on these days.”
Tossing his smoke, Sean grinds it out with his boot and finally looks over to me, a smile on his face. A contented smile. One I’ve spotted on both my brothers’ faces in recent months. However, their expressions are a continual mix of both contentment and fear when we’re behind closed doors and away from Cecelia because of one reason—their deception to their brother.
It’s the look of happiness on Sean’s face now, of being in love and knowing what it feels like. Like this fucked up world finally makes more sense. Like there’s purpose and meaning. A feeling of belonging that’s fucking indescribable with the right woman. Which is exactly how I feel when I’m with Delphine. It’s when Sean gauges my return expression that I rip every bit of that contentment and happiness away.
“He knows,” Sean deduces, lowering his eyes for long seconds before chucking the tool in his hand. It clangs loudly on the bay floor as he begins to pace, lighting up again. “Do you know how he found out?”
“If you’re in any way suggesting—” I grit out, taking fast offense, and he cuts me off mid-sentence.
“I’m not, brother. Hand to God. I know you didn’t tell him, and for your own sake, you should have. Question is, who the fuck did?”
“He’s not a fucking idiot, Sean. He’s actually quite brilliant. In fact, him being distracted while a continent away, along with his collective trust in the three of us, was your only shot at keeping an upper hand.”
“What did he say?” he asks before taking a massive pull on his cigarette.
“Nothing. Just long, tense seconds of damning fucking silence, and trust me, that’s enough.” Sean pauses his footing and stops, really looking at me with remorse-filled eyes.
“I’m sorry, Tyler. I really am. The situation we put you in is fucked.”
I nod, knowing that not only will I have to face the fucking hell coming my way for my silence, but in breaking the oath Tobias and I made years ago, I lost a level of trust I may never earn back.
“What do we do?” Sean asks.
“We? I’m not in this. In fact, I’m ten steps removed. You and Dom work it out. I’ll deal with mending my relationship with T my way.”
He swallows and nods.
“Where are they?” I ask.
“On a date,” Sean sighs.
“Dom . . . on a date.” I shake my head at the irony. “Hell really has frozen over.”
“He loves her,” he states emphatically, forever having Dom’s back. “I fucking love her, Tyler. She’s it for me, brother,” he admits hoarsely.
“I know.” His eyes fill with more trepidation as he resumes pacing. “But Tobias is not going to hear it, Sean. This went too far beyond any rectifiable time frame, so you need to expect the fucking worst.”
“And that would be?” Sean stops, dread evident in his posture.
“That you’re both out,” I state.
“Best case?” he asks with pleading eyes.
“Truth? A punishment fitting of the crime in addition to months or years mending the bridge back to his trust. I can’t fucking imagine what he’s feeling right now.” I grimace. “And honestly don’t want to.”
“Would you be so hard on us?” Sean prods.
“Putting myself in his shoes, if I didn’t know what it was like to be in love . . . yeah, I would. But this isn’t about me. I just get to share the fucking punishment.”
“I’ll make this right with you,” he vows. “One day. I swear to you, Tyler.”
“Don’t worry about that right now. I’ve got me. But you best call Dom and know this heads-up is the last thing you’re getting from me.” I turn to stalk back toward my truck and stop to glance back at him. “And if France finds out it was me who warned you, I’ll never have your fucking back again.”
“Understood,” he says, my implication clear, “where are you going?”
“I’ll be back when you really need me,” I say.
“That won’t be long,” he utters, devastation filling his timbre, which has me hesitating in leaving him. Because I’ve felt what he’s feeling. Not in the same way, but enough to ache for him. The crack happening in my brother’s massive heart is palpable from feet away. “Forgive me, brother,” he pleads, “I was selfish to ask this of you. I just . . . wanted to be happy a little longer, you know?”
“Unfortunately, man, I really fucking do,” I admit honestly. “So count on me to be there when you really do need me, but Sean . . . choose your next moves very wisely.”
“I will . . . thank you, Tyler,” he relays, already lost in the panic filling him as he pulls his burner from his jeans.
* * *
Back aching, I pull up to Delphine’s and stare into the house. Anticipation brews in my veins as I continue to block out the panic I’ve been tamping down for hours, thanks to T’s discovery. Scraping some of the residue from my thumbnail, I scour Delphine’s prison, hating every fucking bit of brick and mortar that makes up her cage. My contempt for the house almost as powerful as my contempt for Alain. She had a long session with Mom today, who reported by text earlier that she was in decent spirits when she left.
In knowing that my general might be up for an escape with me—and after burning my candle at both ends since the beginning of summer—I can’t think of a better time to finally see if my efforts might pay off.
Cracking my neck, I haul myself up the steps, feeling every bit of the residual effort I made this morning as I stalk toward the door. Much to my delight, my refuge meets me at it. Hand on the knob, she sports a smile as she ushers me in, wearing a thin white robe which is covered in light blue flowers.
Her frame is slightly healthier now, and her coloring is better, too—though the chemo robs her of progress in the days following treatment. And fuck am I thankful she has so few left to go. She’s battling so much at once and taking it all on the chin for the most part. Though some of her visits with Mom set her back emotionally, it seems today’s session didn’t, as she eagerly ushers me in, beaming at me as she does.
“Soldier, I thought you would never get here!” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her of the shit show about to go down, but in gauging her mood, I decide to keep the peace with a white lie. “Sorry, General. It was a busy day, which threatened to turn into a busy night.”
“No, no, it’s okay. I just . . . I have a present for you,” she admonishes breathlessly, her silver eyes lit with anticipation.
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, as she nods enthusiastically and takes my hand, leading me toward the kitchen table where our latest game of Battle awaits.
“Oui!” she says, anxiously pulling me through the living room. In the short time we’ve been together, we’ve fallen easily into our old groove. We spent a night watching Star Wars when she was fatigued and managed a few games of Battle. My ask tonight might push her out of her comfort zone, so as she rattles in anticipation, I do too. It’s when I spot the flowers that I got mere days ago already wilting in a mason jar on the divider counter that I speak up.
“You need to toss those, or they’ll stink up the house.”
“I can’t bring myself to part with them yet,” she spouts.
“Why not?” I frown at the length they lasted as she, too, eyes the limp flowers.
“Because my soldier bought them for me,” she finally says. “They remind me he’s coming back the next day.” I pause my footing at her admission, and, in turn, stop her from guiding me toward the table.
“Delphine,” I say, jiggling our clasped hands. “I’m coming back every day,” I whisper as her eyes drop. “Look at me,” I order, and her eyes instantly dart to mine. “I’m coming back every day. I sleep here every night.”
“I know,” she nods. “I will throw them away, Soldier. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Do you know?” I ask. The temptation to cup her face is strong, but I resist it. I don’t want her to mistake it as intimate, and for me, it would be. My renewed attraction for her is stifled daily, as I purposely refuse to pick apart or decipher any return looks she grants me for my own wants. The eighteen-year-old me standing firmly with me in that stance.
“I believe you,” she whispers, tugging at my hand. Before I get a chance to poke further into her worry, she leads me to the end of the table. On it sits a thick book, twice the size of a bible—its cover a light, thick blue plastic with no title. It looks to be filled with laminated pages which are bound together with plastic rings. A book that looks fit for a presentation and was put together at a place like Kinko’s or Office Depot.
“Are we having some sort of orientation tonight, General?” I joke.
“What?” she asks, her accompanying smile making me feel like an asshole for making one.
“Nothing,” I say, noting she’s nervous even as she speaks up, revealing as much.
“Okay, sit down,” she orders, “or you can stand,” she says, shaking her head. “No, sit down, Tyler,” she says, fondly rolling her gaze over me. “Yes, sit down.”
“All right, now I’m intrigued.” I take a seat at the end of the table.
“Okay.” She splays her hands excitedly. “Open it.”
Grinning, I flip open the plastic top to see . . . maps. Not one or two, but what looks like . . . hundreds of detailed maps of Triple Falls. As I continue to flip, utter shock filters through me.
“Holy . . . fucking shit, General,” I rasp out as I go through every page, my mind fucking blown at the amount of detail she put into every single one.
“There is a table of contents,” she spills excitedly as she points out the ins and outs of the book while I stare down at it in astonishment. Shaken by the amount of work I’m positive she must have done.
“The woman who made it,” Delphine explains, “well, helped me put it together, made sure it was perfect because my writing is still not so good. She helped me label the streets correctly and spell them.” She widens her eyes. “So you weren’t on Elmbs Street, instead of Elm.” She laughs before turning to me, her eyes misted with clear emotion. “She did a good job, non?”
“She did a good job?” I gape up at her to see proud tears multiplying in her eyes as she reads my answering expression. I keep a tight hold of her with my free hand as I flip through, the ball lodged in my throat swelling rapidly. “General . . . how long.” I swallow and swallow again, the need to know the answer to my question more than the need for my next breath. “How long did it take you to draw these?” I hear the guttural ache in my voice while lifting my eyes to hers.
“Oh, Tyler, no.” She shakes her head adamantly as the emotion I can’t tame fills my expression. “Please do not be sad.” She lifts my palm and softly kisses it. “It was no trouble at all. I was so very happy to do it for my soldier,” she insists.
I tug our clasped hands to pull her closer to me.
“That’s not what I asked,” I rasp out, rubbing my thumb over the back of her hand as she stares down at the bulging book, tears shimmering in her eyes.
“How long, Delphine?” I manage to get past the rapidly swelling lump. A long silence passes as I start to grow impatient before she answers.
“Six years,” she finally admits, as I watch twin tears slowly glide down her cheeks, her eyes purposefully fixed on a laminated page as she speaks again. “For six long years, I prayed my soldier would come back for his maps,” she relays shakily, her voice filled with mourning, which mirrors the ache I feel.
“Six years,” I repeat as she nods, tears flowing as she holds a shaky smile. “Why six, Delphine?” I ask, anger and a dozen other emotions filtering through me as I stare between her and the book.
She shrugs, which only fuels my upset and stokes my suspicion of exactly what day she gave up.
“I got . . . was very sick then.”
“Delphine—”
“Soldier, can I please tell you another time?” she pleads, “I am happy and don’t want to want a drink,” she rambles nervously.
“Okay.” I blow out a breath before inhaling some patience.
“Do you like it?”
“Like it?” I utter, stupefied as I twist my lips around the fucking boulder lodged in my throat and the seizing in my chest. “Like is far too weak of a word.” I stare down at the book. “It’s fucking incredible.”
“I realize why you did it, why you asked me for these maps.” She slowly kneels at my boots, pulling my hand to her face before staring up at me earnestly. “You told me to trust you on why, but I realize why. It’s because you knew.” She shakes her head in embarrassment. “You knew about my brain injury and that it would be good to help with my rehabilitation, non?”
Biting my lip, I nod.
“My soldier,” she whispers, her tears lining the hand palming her cheek, “still trying to save me, even in his absence,” she relays. “I will find a way to deserve you.”
Paralyzed by the sight of her at my feet, by her gesture, I fight for control to pull her to me, to crush her lips, knowing it’s only going to get harder with the road ahead.
“I know you’re still angry with me and don’t want to hear my apology, but will you please, please, let me say I’m sorry? Tyler, I regret so badly that morning. The way I made you feel.” She looks up to me, her eyes scanning my face as she ripples with anxiety. “And that I still regret it every day and always will.”
I nod as more of her tears spill over—these are different in nature. These are tears of the healing kind as my chest continues seizing with a need for her.
“I thought maybe if you . . .” Her chest bounces as she tries her best to rein them in. “I thought that if you saw this book, you would see that all my time was not wasted . . . and maybe you won’t think so little of me?”
I grip the back of her neck, brushing her tears away, adding my other hand to firmly grip her face so she can see the truth in my eyes. “Do you see anything in my face that says any part of you is wasted?”
“Always saying the right things,” she tries to pull away, “I’m so sorry for—”
“Shhh,” I whisper, the need to fucking kiss her overwhelming as she scans my face. In an effort to shield it, I release her in an instant, standing. “I have a surprise for you, too.”
“You do?” she asks, a look of . . . dejection . . . turning into one of surprise. Am I reading her right? Or is this just my hope blooming?
The notion strikes that these are probably my wants.
But . . . does she want intimacy? Her kiss in the shower said so, but she was weak at the time—at her weakest, and I don’t ever want her accusations from that morning anywhere fucking near us haunting our friendship now. Though she admitted she wanted to be intimate that night we had sex, even the morning after while she obliterated me, I won’t even let that play a factor in us now. Resigning myself back to dedication to our friendship—which keeps me safely in her life—I decide not to mull over it or let it fuck with my head another second. Unsure if I could ever handle going there with her again, even as my heart begs for it. The fucker begged me last time too.
“But hear me,” I palm the book on the table. “Before we get to what I hope is your surprise, this,” I run my hand over the cover, “has just become my most prized possession, fucking ever.”
“Then it was worth every minute,” she whispers as she stands. “I made you happy, Soldier?”
“So fucking happy,” I tell her. “So, in the spirit of that, are you up for a trip?”
“Tonight?” she asks, glancing out of the living room window.
“Yes, go pack a bag,” I tell her, lifting her to her feet. “We’re not going far.”
“Really? A bag? To stay somewhere?”
“Yeah, for a night or longer, so bring your toothbrush, pajamas, and a few day clothes.”
“Okay,” she whispers, “I’m so excited.” She stalls. “You won’t tell me?”
“Non,” I state with a wink.
“Okay, I’ll be fast.”
“You don’t have to be fast. I’m not going anywhere, Delphine.”
She nods and stops halfway down the hall, turning back to me with a breathtaking smile on her face. “Tyler! For the first time in so long, I don’t have to worry to bring my fucking bottle! It’s stupid to mention, I know—”
“The fuck it is, it’s a victory,” I tell her. “And we’re taking every single one. Big and small. That’s a big one.”
“Right, yes, it’s a victory,” she says, pumping her fist with a giggle before she disappears. Stupefied, I stare after her for long seconds before glancing back at the book as a sinking suspicion sneaks in.
Six years.
Six years. If I’m right about the day she gave up—and my seizing chest is telling me I am—it will fucking alter me in a way I might not be able to hide. I decide not to press it tonight as I run my palm over the book, her words circling back to me. “For six long years, I prayed my soldier would come back for his maps.”
Forty minutes later, I’ve done my best to put her admission aside, my anticipation spiking as I pull up the long gravel drive before she turns to me. “I know where we are, Tyler,” she draws out, “we are on your land.”
“I knew you would,” I say, slowing to a stop at the foot of the house. The newly installed porch light illuminating a good portion of the single-story white farmhouse with light blue shutters. The porch—also newly rebuilt—houses a single step to the door and is painted the same shade of blue. Long planter boxes sit bolted beneath the windows facing us. To the right of the light blue front door sits a large window, which gives a view of a spacious living room. To the left of the door sits a slightly smaller bedroom window outlined by the same classic shutters. The totality of the interior currently lit with newly installed ceiling fans and updated light fixtures.
“I love it.” She claps. “We get to stay here tonight?”
“Yeah, we do,” I say, dipping into my jeans pocket and pulling out the key.
“Oh!” she exclaims, eyes lighting as she grabs it and springs from the truck straight to the porch. Easing out of the seat to follow her, I’m at her back by the time she opens it. The smell of fresh paint hits us both as she takes it in. Each one painted in varying shades of light and dark blue.
“Tyler,” she admonishes as she walks in, stops at the hall, and does a one-eighty to stare into the kitchen before walking back to where I stand in the empty living room.
“This house is so beautiful, but,” she laughs nervously, “there is no furniture here.”
“Well, that’s because the owner hasn’t furnished it yet.”
“Oh, but . . . where will we sleep?”
“Let’s ask the owner?” I give her a pointed look.
“Okay,” she stalls, weighing my expression before it starts to sink in. “Wait, what is this, Soldier?”
“This is your house, Delphine,” I whisper. “So you wake up every day smiling.”
She jerks back a few feet before scanning the kitchen with the newly installed baby blue old-school Frigidaire, matching new gas stove, and other appliances. Whipping her head in every direction, her gorgeous silver eyes dart to an old-fashioned iron wood stove fireplace, to the large living room window, which gives the best imaginable view of the orchard—a view she hasn’t yet seen, hence the reason for our trip. I wanted to see her wake up to it. That is if she accepts the house.
“Soldier, you’re joking,” she says, her eyes shimmering with tears.
“I’m not joking,” I tell her. “It’s yours.”
“No!” she booms. “No, it’s really . . . mine? This house is mine?”
“You kicked the bottle,” I tell her, “so you get to live the dream.”
“Tyler,” she exhales so harshly, I know there’s no breath left in her, “you are my best friend, but if you are bullshitting to me, I will kick your balls so fucking hard.”
“Well shit,” I chuckle, “I was hoping to room with you for a while, but now I’m just scared.”
“This is really my house, and you will live here too?” She searches my face frantically.
“Well, when you put it like that, I was hoping to. I can’t handle living in that townhouse a day longer, and I thought I’d room with you for a while anyway to be your sober companion.”
“Oh,” she says, lowering her eyes. “I would love that so much, but, Soldier,” she shakes her head, bewildered. “A whole house?”
“It’s a tiny house,” I say, “for a tiny general. But it’s got three bedrooms.”
“This can’t be right.” She cups her mouth, her eyes spilling over. “This can’t be mine!” Her face erupts, and she begins to cry, to rebuke it all as she keeps a hand on her mouth, and I crowd her, knowing these tears are utter happiness. “No.” She pushes my chest again and again as I watch her unravel in front of me.
“It’s your dream, Delphine. I saw it the minute we drove here before you even spoke a word. You deserve it, and I want you to have it.”
She sniffles, keeping her mouth covered, her lashes soaked. “Tyler, who did this house belong to?”
“To me,” I tell her honestly. “It was my granddad’s starter home and came with the land I inherited.
“Then it’s yours,” she says, holding out the key.
“I don’t want to live alone out here.” I bulge my eyes. “Who will protect me from the crickets?”
“Shut the fuck up!” she bursts into a heap of emotion again, crying as she turns in circles again and again.
“You shut the fuck up,” I chuckle as she melts onto the refinished hardwoods and cries for solid minutes, slumped in an adorable weepy heap, her legs in a V on the floor as I crouch down and grin at her. “This is not very general of you.”
“Oh, Soldier, I don’t care, I can die now. This can’t be real life.”
Her reaction makes the aches worth it, every single one. “You haven’t seen the rest of the house yet.”
“I don’t care,” she says before her eyes bulge. “I mean, I do, of course, but I don’t. I’m so happy. I don’t care if the rest is a shack. These two rooms alone. So beautiful.” She palms my jaw. “You painted it blue for me? You did all this for me?”
“I started renovations when I got back at the beginning of summer. But if I’m completely honest, I always had you in mind to live here. It made choosing the paint easy. In my mind, this has always been your house, Delphine. I’ve always pictured you living here. Even back then.”
“Tyler,” she palms her heart. “This is all I have ever wanted. To live on land so beautiful,” she sniffs as I pull her up from the floor, “but I did not earn this.”
“There are about three dozen soldiers or more who owe their lives to you that would say otherwise,” I tell her.
“What? What do you mean?” she asks.
“I’ll tell you another time.” I pause a beat as she shakes her head, bewildered. “So, you don’t think you’ll have an issue moving?”
“Moving here? Are you fucking joking?” She palms my chest. “I know what you mean,” she taps her finger to her head, “mentally, and the answer is no. No issue. I told your mother yesterday I want out of that fucking house. And knowing I can live here with my soldier, I don’t ever want to go back,” she states emphatically.
“Then you never have to go back,” I say as her sentiment sets my chest pumping. “I’ll get your stuff boxed and here for you tomorrow.”
“No, no, leave it. I don’t want a single part of my past to touch my future. I will get what I have to from it later.” She lifts her chin. “I will make this all new. A new life, Tyler.” Her eyes sparkle. “My future.”
She brings her watery gaze to mine, gripping my hands, hers shaking. “Soldier, this is the best day of my life, and you gave it to me.”
“No, it’s not,” I tell her as she beams at me. “I promise you it’s not.”
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