Going against every instinct I’d learned at the villa, I pulled back, turning my head to the side. He stayed close and I felt his breaths on my cheek.
“Jaysus…” Graham thrust his fingers into his hair. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered, not wanting him to feel bad.
A shuffle sounded by the door and a deep voice rang out. “What…the fuck?”
I didn’t even have to look up. At the sound of my master’s voice I fell to my knees. His footsteps pounded toward us and Graham curled into a ball on the floor as Mr. Douglas reached over him, grabbing the bottle.
“You’re giving her alcohol? Of all the stupid shit, Graham! What the fuck are you thinking?” He launched the nearly empty bottle toward the trash can across the room and it hit the wall with a bang before falling into the canister. “Angela…please. For the love of God, don’t kneel. Graham, Christ, I’m not going to hit you. Fuck!” He stood and kicked one of the gamer chairs. It flew into the bed and I started to shake.
“Come on, lassie.” Mr. Douglas’s voice lowered, as if he were forcing himself not to be angry, and he helped me to my feet. Then he grasped Graham by the arm and lifted him, leading him to the bed where he fell in a drunken heap.
Graham quietly murmured, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
Mr. Douglas took his brother’s face in his hand, making him look at him. “I shouldn’t have yelled. All right? Sleep it off. We’ll talk in the morning.”
His face was stern and full of regret when he placed his wide palm on my back and led me out of the room, down the hall to my own room. Inside, I climbed into bed, but grabbed his arm when he turned to leave.
“Stay with me,” I pleaded.
He froze, half turned, and shut his eyes.
“Don’t ask that of me.”
“I know you only did what you had to do in Spain, Mr. Douglas—”
“Please—”
“No, I understand. I do. I’m not mad at you. I’m grateful.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m…” Okay, the room was spinning a little, but slowly. I wasn’t plastered, just nicely buzzed. I let him go and looked up at him. “I know what I’m saying right now. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Nor do you.”
“Yes, I do. I owe you so much. I want to give you everything.”
He turned from me. “Well, I can’t accept it. I’ve been given all I’m owed. You’re free now, and…that in itself is reward enough.”
My insides shivered at the sweetness of those words.
“Is…is Fernando dead?”
“Yes.”
My insides galloped at that single word. I didn’t realize just how much old fear and angst had attached itself to the idea of Fernando until I could feel it dissipating and releasing. He’d never hurt another girl again. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“Believe me, it was my pleasure. Now, get some sleep.”
I reached for his arm again as he moved away, but I was too slow this time.
He was almost at the door when I whispered, “I love you.”
The moment the truth slipped out, I felt lighter, and the room spun faster.
He stopped, tense, never turning. “You’re drunk,” he said again. “And I wish you’d call me Colin.”
With my sentiment ignored, he left me.
I love you.
Fucking Graham and his fucking vodka. He wanted to strangle his idiot of a brother. Colin’s chest constricted, like he couldn’t breathe when he remembered what he’d seen in that room—the two of them so close, their faces mere inches apart. And the bottle next to them.
He wasn’t opposed to them talking. In fact, if they could help each other, he’d be fucking grateful, but how had they gotten so close in the couple days he’d been gone? He didn’t want them that close. And he sure as fuck didn’t want Angela turning to drugs and alcohol the way Graham had.
I love you.
He scraped at his scalp with his fingertips, pacing his room. God damn it!
Some people said alcohol made the truth come out. But Colin knew from his own drunken stupors that alcohol also made you do and say things you’d never want to do or say in a sober state—things you didn’t mean at all. She’d been through so much. She was confused.
She couldn’t have meant it, but it affected him just the same. He’d wanted to turn around and take himself back to her bed, to cover her skin with his, to bury himself deeper inside her than anyone ever had, and listen to her say those words over and over. To him.
The best thing Colin could do for both of them would be to leave. He’d allowed things to go too far. But the selfish, masochistic part of him wanted to stay, wanted to see how things would play out, good or bad.
Dawn broke, spreading a buttery light through his room. He wasn’t tired, having slept a bit on the plane. In fact, he felt wired as Angela’s words resounded in his head on replay.
Soon, he could hear the Birches moving around in the kitchen and smell coffee brewing. It lured Colin from his room. Mrs. Birch brightened, beaming at him when he entered.
“Coffee?” she asked, already grabbing a mug and pouring.