Vengeance (COMPLETED)

Part 20

Hi guys! I'm so sorry I missed the upload last week. No excuse, I was writing all weekend and just forgot to log on. Thank you for your comments and votes, though. I appreciate it ❤️ 

I hope you all enjoy this chapter and I promise I'll be back next week for more ❤️

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Showering helps ease my headache further, but not enough to convince me to wear anything other than a simple shirt dress. If I had a pair of sweats, that's what I'd be wearing. I don't bother doing my makeup. My hair is still curled from last night, so at least I look semi-decent. Even if I did dress up, it wouldn't be enough to hide my embarrassment. I just had to swallow my pride and get it over and done with.

His room is on the top floor, across the hall from Angelis'. I take a deep breath before knocking on his door. Part of me was hoping he'd already be working, but he opens the door a few seconds later. He's not even dressed, wearing only a pair of sweatpants. I fight the urge to eye his muscles. Something else catches my attention, anyway. There's a fresh cut on his cheek, and a bruise forming around his eye.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Angelis," he says.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Is he?" I ask. "I didn't think he had that much to drink."

"He didn't. He wasn't drunk. We just argued."

"Oh," I scowl. I didn't even think about that. I want to ask about it further, but I shouldn't. With the tension between us right now, I don't think I have the right to.

"Did you want to come in?" Atticus asks.

"Yeah, I, uh... I wanted to talk to you about last night."

"I figured," he steps aside, ushering me into the room. It's much larger than mine. He has a separate lounge room with a small kitchenette and a dining table. An archway leads to the bedroom. It's all neat and tidy. There's no clutter at all. There are a few photo frames decorating the TV bench, and a green throw over the beige couch. "Do you want to sit down?"

"Sure," I follow him over to the dining table. There's a cup of coffee on it, but that's it. He pulls out a chair for me and turns his own to face me. I take a seat and try to relax, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. "Look, I'm— I'm really sorry for how I acted. It wasn't fair, and I'm sorry I put you in that position."

"It's alright, you were drunk. You weren't thinking straight."

"But I did mean what I said, about feeling safe, and I really am grateful you brought me here, even though it took me a while to come around."

"I'm glad you're feeling safe. It seems you've started to settle in," he leans back in his seat, his arms resting over his stomach. He hesitates before he continues. "I did think about what you said, about us avoiding each other."

"That was—," I cut myself off. I need to find the right words. "I don't want us to avoid each other, but if that's what you want, then I understand."

"No, that's what I'm trying to say. I don't want that. It's the last thing I want, but it's the best thing I can think of to do."

"Why?" I question.

"Because you can't have feelings for me."

"What?" I'm taken aback by his honesty. My heart thumps in my chest, pounding just as hard as my head did just hours ago. "Who says I do?"

"Come on, Erin," he gives me a pointed look.

"I might just want to hook up."

"You can't tell me this isn't mutual," he sits up straighter. "That you don't feel exactly how I feel."

"How do you feel?" I push. He sighs, clearly hesitant to open up. "Come on."

"How do you think I feel? I like you. I've liked you since the day you shot down half my men in St Louis," he proclaims. "And you can't tell me you don't feel the same way. There's something there between us, and there's no point denying it. You have to admit you feel it, too."

"So what if I do?" My defences are up. I can't get ahead of myself. 7/5/2023

"Then we have to figure something out," he tells me. I bite my lip, contemplating whether or not to tell him the truth — a truth I haven't even admitted to myself yet. But there's no point hiding it.

"Fine, yes, I feel the same way, but I can't. I just can't."

"That's the problem. It doesn't matter what my feelings are, because you're the one with the decision to make, and I don't want to influence that."

"You already are."

"But it'll only get worse the more time we spend together."

"I don't know," I sit back, frustrated at this whole situation. It feels nice to finally admit it to myself and to admit it to him. And he feels the same way. I should be thrilled. I should be ecstatic. In an ideal world, this would mean we could actually be together. But this isn't that world. If anything, knowing he has feelings too, just makes it more complicated. "It's always going to weigh into my decision. Just knowing there's a possibility of us being together will influence me."

"So... you want to give this a go?" A glimmer of hope shines in his eyes.

"I don't know," I repeat. "I just think there's no point in ignoring each other."

"So, you don't want us to be apart but you don't want us to be together?"

"Being apart is pointless, but being together isn't right, either. If it's good— if I fall for you..." just the thought makes me happy. "Then it'll just be harder to leave. I could never go back to my life."

"What life?" he leans forward in frustration. "You were miserable there. You didn't want that life."

"But at least it was mine and I wasn't forced into it."

"Except you were. You were forced into it by my father the second he killed your mother. You didn't have a choice."

"I just—," I don't know. He's right. I didn't have a choice. I was forced into that life, but I was kind of forced into this one, too. I've already had to accept that I'll never have the life I wanted. I just need to decide which one I want instead. I turn to Atticus. The marks on his face don't make him any less beautiful. His eyes are so genuine. "What would you want?"

"It's not my decision."

"Tell me. In an ideal world, what do you want?"

"Selfishly..." he sighs. "I'd like to be with you, to give this a go between us and see where it leads. But it's not that simple. You need to figure out what like you want. Once this is over, you get to start fresh. Whether it's here or in the US, you get to start over. And I couldn't live with myself if you made a decision for me, rather than yourself. I just can't."

This sucks. Why do I have to decide at all? Why can't I just have the best of both worlds? Everyone would be so much easier. I finally have choices to make and I don't want to make them. The pounding in my head slowly starts to return.

"I think I need some fresh air," I say. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm good, yeah," he nods. "Are you?"

"Yeah, I will be."