Things We Left Behind (Knockemout, #3)

by Lucy Score

To 12-year-old, 17-year-old, 21-year-old, and 30-year-old me. You were never the disaster you thought you were. It’s all going to work out.

“As your father liked to say, ‘We can’t drink all day if we don’t start now.’”

Lucian Rollins. Luce or Lucy to his friends, of whom he had few. Lucifer to me and the rest of his legion of enemies. I hated how my body reacted to the man every time he walked into a room. That tingling awareness like every nerve in my body just got the same message at the same time. I could deal with that innate, biological warning that danger was near. After all, there was nothing safe about the man. What I couldn’t handle was how the tingling turned immediately into a warm, happy, reflexive There you are, as if I’d been holding my breath for him to appear.

It was strange, having a secret with the boy I’d once loved and now sharing it with the man I couldn’t stand.

God, he was beautiful. Supernaturally molded by the gods beautiful. He would make gorgeous little demon babies.

“Sometimes in order to build things back up, you gotta tear them down to the studs.

Simon: If I could have chosen a son in this lifetime, it would have been you. Take care of my girls.

My heart ached with the knowledge that my father would never again sit in this chair. He’d never again make a ridiculous dad joke that would have Mom collapsing with giggles. He wouldn’t be here to watch Chloe tear through her presents next Christmas. He wouldn’t meet any new members of the family. If I got married and had kids, how would I ever share with them what he meant to me?

Now my heart was breaking into tinier, sharper pieces, and my misery was illuminated by this god-awful lamp.

Tears spilled hot and fast down my cheeks. I hugged myself around the middle and just let them come. Like a volcano erupting, I cried as if I were splitting in two.

Because I would miss my dad for the rest of my life.

I leaned against the mantel and willed myself to stop thinking about how it had felt to have Sloane pinned between me and my desk.

“There are some things we never get over. Some things we hide from the light,”

She looked beautiful. Fun, spunky, smart, sweet, funny. Fucking breathtaking.

“Suit Daddy?” Her words had finally sunk into my reeling brain.

“Girl, I don’t know what’s happening right now, but I’m a nurse and if you don’t go home with Tall, Dark, and Tight Crotch, I’m gonna check you for head trauma.” The man next to her nodded. “I’m her husband, and even I think Suit Guy is fucking hot.”

“Definitely a concussion,” the woman at the table next to us stage-whispered to her husband. “He’s, like, beautiful and handsome at the same time,” her husband whispered back.

I didn’t like when people couldn’t be bothered with a greeting. How hard was it to say “Hi” or “Hello”? Or “Lucifer’s phone, Satan speaking.”

My dad used to answer every call to the house with a boisterous “Yellow?”

“Nothing worthwhile is easy. Finding a partner isn’t about ticking all the boxes. No one is perfect, not even you, Sloaney Baloney. Falling in love is about discovering someone who makes you better than you are alone and vice versa.”

“You love me, you idiot. You’ve loved me since we were kids. You loved me even when I broke your trust. You loved me after I fixed it. You still love me.”

Yet even though it carved me up to see her pain, I realized what a gift this was. To be here when she broke. To pick up the pieces and help her put them back together again. I didn’t tell her it would be okay. I didn’t beg her to stop crying. I just held on tight as my pathetic, cowardly heart broke.

I thought I’d been doing the right thing by keeping her at a distance. She was supposed to have been safer that way. But by leaving her alone, I’d left her vulnerable to a danger I hadn’t anticipated. I wanted to protect her from me, from the dark shadow that was my past, from the danger that was my present. But I’d left her open and vulnerable to something else. Something that had almost stolen her from me.

If my distance couldn’t protect her, my proximity would. From now on, I wo...

Fury burned inside me. I wouldn’t rest until I knew who was responsible for those bruises and made them pay.

I’d almost lost her. Really lost her. Not pushed her away, but lost her. I could have already seen her for the last time and not known it. That thought sunk in on a razor-edged moment of clarity.

“We’re taking a bath,” I said, removing my underwear and socks and adding them to the pile of clothing I was going to throw away at my earliest convenience. I never wanted to see her ruined pink sweater again. I’d buy her a new one. A dozen new ones. I’d rebuild her library brick by brick, book by book. And I would never let her face danger alone again.

She paused, staring at the mound of pillows I’d arranged in a U. “You remembered,” she said softly. “I remember every second of us.”

The moment felt so fucking right. Like earning my first million. Only this was terrifyingly better. Money could be made and lost. It could be replaced. Sloane couldn’t.

“Absolutely not, you demon fur ball from hell.”

“I was trying to protect you. I thought Anthony Hugo connected you to me and was going to hurt you! When you showed up at my office, I was fucking terrified that he’d see you there.”

“I didn’t want Hugo to be able to connect you to me. If you were just one of many, he’d leave you alone. But it was someone else who wanted to hurt you, and I’m not going to let that happen.”

“No, Pixie, you don’t understand. I could have lost you last night. I’m not going to let that happen again. Ever. If you want ten kids, we’ll have them. If you want a six-story library full of medieval first editions, I’ll buy every book for you. If you want to raise a family here, I’ll move back and feed your asshole cat every morning. If you decide you want to throw it all away and move to a tasteful hut on a tropical beach, I’ll build the fucking hut.”

“Sloane, I don’t think you understand what I’m saying. There’s no discussion necessary. We are in a committed relationship. You mean something to me, and I’m not letting you go again. Not now, not ever. Everything else is just details.”

She pushed away from me and started pacing while she resumed her yelling about all the reasons we wouldn’t work. I found it adorable. I had never felt better about a decision in my entire life.

I abandoned the kale. “That’s it. Give me your cigarette. I know you didn’t smoke yet today, so hand it over.” He looked up from the shredded chicken he was plating. “I quit.” “You quit?” I repeated. “You don’t date smokers,” he reminded me.

“Why? Jesus, Sloane. Why do you think? Because I love you. I’m in love with you. I’ve had the last twenty-some years to obsess over you from afar.”

“Loving you has been a touchstone for more than half my life. But being loved by you? That’s a fucking miracle. You, Pixie, are my fucking miracle.”

“You heard me. I’d get down on one knee, but I don’t know if I’d be able to get back up right now. Marry me. Be my wife. Remind me every day that I’m better than I think I am. Show me what it’s like to be loved by you. Because that’s all I ever wanted. To be good enough for you.”

“Sloane Walton, I have loved you for so long I don’t remember what my life was like before my heart was yours. It’s changed over the years. But I’ve loved you as a friend, an enemy, a lover. It would be my greatest honor in this lifetime if you would let me love you as my wife.”

“Marry me, Sloane. Be my wife. Let me share your life up close. Let me protect you and love you like I’m ready to.”

“You’re not having second thoughts already, are you? I thought the whole vasectomy reversal thing would buy me until at least tomorrow before you started panicking.”

“Your smile makes me love you even more,”

“I love you, Lucian. Even if you wear suits to bed and are snooty about peanut butter brands.” “And I love you, Sloane. Even if you drive me absolutely insane twenty-four hours a day for the rest of my life.”