Page 22 of Fatal Fantasy

It’s obvious that I’m not the same girl my boys once knew, but being around them again is something I have to remember how to enjoy.

It’s hard when Jasper looks at me like I’m made of glass, or I see Tyson walking with a cane – the direct result of what my father did to him – to feel the love we once carried for one another that went so deep into my bones, I was convinced we were created for the sole purpose of finding each other.

“No,” I answer, but he doesn’t budge, instead passing me his phone with a food delivery app pulled up.

“Order yourself something to eat, Carter.” He has that no-bullshit look in his eye, and while a different version of me might like to play a game or two, his deep voice makes me shiver, planting a tiny seed of doubt in the back of my mind that suggests I should just obey.

“Pizza?” I slide his phone back after a few moments spent picking out toppings, and he smiles, a pleased look in his eye while he finalizes the details.

“Pizza is perfect, Principessina,” Jasper says, moving slowly as he sits on the edge of the bed, like he’s afraid to approach me.

“Can I ask you something?”

Truthfully, I’m more scared of him than Tyson.

Not because he’s going to hurt me, but because of how badly I scorned him.

It’s a guilt that’ll never fully disappear, something that’ll be a part of me until the day I finally do die, but if this does work, and we’re getting a second chance, I’ll have no choice but to confront my mistakes.

“Anything,” I answer, a small semblance of a smile breaking across my lips as he stares at me with a genuine look in his eyes.

“What’s with the long sleeves? It’s a million degrees outside.” He nods toward the sweatshirt of his I borrowed, and although I want to be honest with both of them, I don’t know how much of this I can reveal without shattering into pieces.

“Massi!” Tyson drops his voice low, elbowing his brother as he attempts to defend my modesty, but I hold my hand up, deciding in the moment that in order to feel something again, this might just be my first step in the direction of healing.

“It’s okay, Tyson. I’ll tell you guys the truth. Always,” I say, a silly memory invading my mind from the first moment I was vulnerable with them both, and I hold my pinky fingers out, waiting for them to clasp theirs into mine.

This is it, a way for us to start fresh and build a brand new foundation of trust, but I’m completely surprised when neither of them hesitates, solidifying our pinky promise within seconds of the proposal leaving my lips.

“Always.” They say in unison, and tears well in my eyes at how soft they’re being, whether it’s for my benefit, or because they feel what I’m thinking, but either way, I’m starting to remember how good they make me feel.

A drop of humanity was just poured back into my soul, a certain vibrance entering my body that I haven’t felt in months, but rather than question its reasoning, I embrace the light, following its call.

“When I left Emory, my father was waiting for me on a jet, and he was … angry, to say the least. Angry that I failed my mission, that I defended you both with my life, and that I put you above the Cassini legacy. For thirty-six days, he kept me locked in the basement of our home, deprived of everything that makes a person human until I … until I stopped asking about you two.” I slowly pull up the sleeves of the sweatshirt, revealing what Tyson has already seen, but providing the story behind the nasty scars on my wrists.

Jasper’s face goes ghostly white, his eyes darting toward my exposed skin, and my cheeks flush, the embarrassment of being imprisoned creeping out as another person sees what I was subjected to.

“For fuck’s sake, Carter! Why didn’t you fucking say something when I … why didn’t you tell me?” He drops his head, gently stroking the bubbled flesh on my wrists, and I bite my lower lip, willing myself not to cry, not yet anyway.

“I don’t care about my life, or these scars, Jasper. If I could ease your pain, even slightly, I was willing to endure my worst nightmare to make that happen.”

“You wanted to die!” He shouts, the anguish in his voice filling me with guilt over how I begged him to kill me, but it doesn’t change the fact that I would’ve said the same things to anybody.

“I still do,” I whisper, keeping my promise to be open and honest, even if it’s not the truth he wants to hear.

“Stop fucking talking like that, Principessina!”

“Why? If this plan doesn’t work, if my father finds me, I refuse to go back and will find a way to end my life. I was sold to another man, forced to take his hand in marriage, but not before my own flesh and blood tortured me so badly that I …” My voice trails off, the breaths leaving my chest so fast that I’m beginning to feel dizzy, my bones shaking as the words leave my lips.

Without realizing it, I’m doing the hardest thing I’ve ever done, confessing the darkness I’m consumed with – along with the fact that I let it steal my will to live – to the two people who’ve seen me at my strongest, and loved me because I was able to stand tall in the face of adversity.

“He didn’t break your spirit, Carter. Don’t you dare think that,” Jasper whispers, his soft voice cascading me back to a place where he was once my solace, safe place, and the only time I ever felt like I was home.

“You don’t have to say anything else, Carter. We’re here for you, at whatever pace you set, as long as you’re safe,” Tyson adds, and I blink back tears, thankful for his grace, but suddenly wanting to spill every-fucking-thing I’ve kept to myself for far too long.

“Those welts on my back weren’t from an abusive ex … they were battle scars from training sessions with my father, and although some of them were punishments, I lied to gain your trust –” I’m cut off, a hand snaking around my mid-section and while I initially mistake it as a threat, my body tensing in response, Jasper just laces his fingers into mine, easing the nerves bubbling in my belly.

“Anyone who slices that deep into someone’s skin is a threat, and while the details were off, you had every reason to run away, my little ice princess,” he argues, using one of my all-time favorite nicknames, something I was certain I’d never hear again.