Lila

Dane's gaze was frightening. His eyes cold as steel. His expression completely unreadable. Was he angry because she'd almost given them away?

​​

She'd hustled up through the laundry the second she'd gotten home and changed. He'd said she could always come, that she didn't need to be invited. He'd said she was always welcome. She'd wanted to surprise him, sneak up on him if she could. She'd imagined he would be in the kitchen, humming like he did when he cooked. That she'd slide up behind him and put her hands under his shirt…

But when she'd gotten into the closet from the laundry stairs, she hadn't anticipated that he wouldn't leave the light on. She'd barely been able to see. Something caught her foot before she found the closed door—and she'd heard voices before she opened it.

Her adrenalin had gone through the roof. She hadn't been able to hear every word, but the tension in Dane was obvious—as was Chris's suspicion.

Now she was here, standing in the doorway to the master suite, staring at Dane who was across the wide living area. And it was like… like he wasn't there. He stood there, looking back at her. But all the smiles and warmth, all the ways he'd been opening himself to her… it was as if that part of him didn't exist.

"Dane?" she asked quietly. "What's wrong?"

"Becky Hanson is dead. And it looks pretty certain my father arranged it," he said tonelessly.

Lila covered her mouth with her hands. Oh no. Oh no. "Is she…how do you know? Did they find a body?"

"We're checking it out. Maybe. But we have seven different sources all saying the same thing. They're far more reliable than the evening news."

Lila swallowed and nodded. "Are you okay?" she asked. She hadn't moved from the doorway. "Did you want me to go?"

"No," he said, but she wasn't sure which question he was answering. "I'm making dinner."

As if he were on auto-pilot, he turned for the kitchen. When he didn't look back, she followed. But her stomach sank.

What had happened. What was wrong? Usually when he got angry, there was a fire in him. Not this…death. Was he grieving? But no, there was no emotion.

Carefully, she made her way across the big living room towards the open plan kitchen next to it. She looked at the stool he'd sat her in a couple days earlier, the evening he'd made the effort to tell her how welcome she was. Even if I'm mad, he'd said.

So, something was wrong.

It always came back to his father, she realized. No matter which direction Dane's emotions took, it always boiled down to that.

Clenching her jaw, Lila was resolved. She wasn't going to let him do this. She wouldn't let him pull away like this. She wouldn't let him carry it alone.

So, as he returned to the stove and the meat he'd marinated, she strode into the kitchen and put her arms around his waist, hugging his back.

He went very still first, then began to shift on his feet. "Don't. I need to get the vegetables fried off—"

"Stop, Dane. Dinner can wait," she whispered into his back, her palms flat to his stomach, hugging him to her.

"I don't need to stop—" he growled.

"Yes. You do."

Taking her hands in his, he broke her grip and forced her to let go as he turned so they were facing each other. Her mind spun. He looked so cold. Not angry. Not irritated. Not even fearful. Just…empty. Hollow.

Because Becky was dead? She'd understand grief, and fear. Even anger. But this…?

"Are you sure it was your father?" she asked carefully.

Dane snorted and turned back to the food, his knife echoing against the cutting board, though the mushrooms didn't look like they needed to be chopped any smaller.

Lila frowned at his back. What could make him… then it dawned on her.

I am my father's son… I have his blood… He molded me.

Lila nodded slowly and put a hand to his arm to turn him back around. He came, but moving stiffly. And he looked at his hands instead of her face. She leaned down until their eyes met, knowing he'd see her sadness. And that might not help. But she thought she knew what the problem was.

"This isn't your fault, Dane," she said.

His upper lip curled into a sneer, but she held his arm so he wouldn't turn away.

"You didn't choose this. You didn't manipulate Becky into trying to hurt you. He did. This is on him."

"Rupert," he snapped and yanked his hand out of her grip, turning back to the food.

"I'm serious, Dane. You can't carry this—"

"I'm not carrying it. At all."

She folded her arms. "Yes, I can see you're completely untouched by this news."

"Yes," he spat, turning on her. "I am."

"Dane," she started softly, but he interrupted her.

"Rupert," he said through his teeth.

Lila blinked and stepped back. "I only want to help—"

"Fucking Rupert!" he snapped back.

She put her palms up so he could see her surrender. "Okay, okay. I'll stop."

Dane shook his head and turned away again, but his shoulders were tense and high and he didn't even touch the food this time.

"Do you want me to go?" Lila asked him quietly, praying he'd say no.

"It might be a good idea," he said tonelessly. "I don't think I'll make very good company tonight."

Lila's heart sank. "Well…I'll go then. But I want you to know, I want to be with you even when you aren't good company. I want to help you if I can. And just…be with you in it if there's a problem that I can't—"

Dane turned so quickly she gasped. His face was unreadable, but his voice snarled. "This isn't something you can fix. I'm not someone you can fix, Lila. I'm broken. I told you. And sometimes that means I'm an asshole—just like my dad. Okay? You want to know the problem? That's the problem."

*****

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