Snowbound with the Santas (Forbidden Fantasies)

29. Rayne

29

RAYNE

A rcher reacts like the snap of a whip. He launches himself forward so fast that his initial movements are a blur, but his fist slamming into Ashton's face? That’s in slow motion.

There’s a fleeting burst of shock across Ashton's face before Archer’s fist crashes into his face, crumpling his nose flat. Crimson explodes from the point of impact, and Ashton's face twists into a wide, open cry. He stumbles backward into Byron, who slowly lifts one hand to try and catch him. Whether from slow reflexes or simply not caring, Byron misses, so Ashton trips back through the doorway and lands spread-eagle on the snow outside.

“Get the fuck off my property,” Archer snarls. His voice is thick and deep, oozing a dangerous threat that no one in their right mind would want to pursue. Ashton clearly isn’t in his right mind because the very act of being punched in front of a crowd seems to offend him greatly. He writhes around in the snow for a few seconds, spraying blood from his broken nose and equally busted upper lip, then he scrambles to his feet.

“You fucking psycho!” Ashton yells. He tries to charge forward, but he’s prevented by the other member of Mountain Rescue catching him by the shoulder and dragging him backward. Nick moves in front of Archer to prevent any more flying fists while Byron shoots me a look I can’t quite decipher.

It’s an odd mix between sympathy and understanding, but he doesn’t look all that happy, either.

“I’ll let that one slide because I don’t want to do the paperwork,” Byron says as he heads out of the cabin. “But we will need to see Rayne down at the lodge sooner rather than later. If only to keep the peace.”

That’s the last thing I hear. Nick falls into conversation with Byron, and just beyond his shoulder, Ashton is visible as he’s wrangled into the jeep.

Tell everyone the truth ?

My heart crashes down into my gut and my stomach twists so violently that I can’t decide if I’m going to puke or if I need to hurry to the toilet.

He’ll tell everyone.

My mom.

Uncle Cecil.

I think back to our argument in that cupboard and how confident he sounded that the way he would tell the truth would absolve him of wrongdoing. It wouldn’t matter that he claimed he was driving all those years ago. He’ll make me look like the threat. I’ve never known Ashton to be scared of anyone. Even now, he’s still shouting and yelling as if he stands any chance in a fight with Archer.

And yet, somehow, he’ll make me look like a psychopath.

What will happen to me?

Will the police be called?

Will I go to prison?

The ground wobbles violently and weakness sweeps up my legs. I stumble and reach for the back of the couch for balance. Frankie is still beside me, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see him looking at me. His mouth is moving, but none of the words reach me.

Ashton must have said something provocative because suddenly, Nick is having to hold Archer back and that’s a clash between two Titans. Archer looks ready to kill, and Nick has enough sense to make sure that doesn’t happen in front of the mountain police. They got one pass. They won’t get another.

If Ashton is going to tell everyone the truth, that means I have to.

I have to tell Frankie, Nick, and Archer what I did.

That scene plays out in my head. All three of them sitting before me with their handsome faces full of expectation. I’ve had nightmares about moments like this. Having to confess my deepest, darkest secret. Sometimes, it’s my mom in front of me. Other times, it’s my best friend and people from work.

Now it’s the men I love.

Love .

I can’t use that word. I don’t deserve to. I don’t deserve them.

My heart races, pounding inside my chest as, in my head, the truth spills out. I watch Frankie’s lopsided grin vanish. His eyes darken and he can’t look at me. I watch as Archer loses the softness he’s gained over these last few weeks and he returns to the stoic, hard-faced man he was the day I woke up here. And I watch Nick’s warm, welcoming face close up as he realizes he trusted his daughter with a monster.

I don’t notice I’m crying until I blink and cold tears trail down my raw, hot face. Frankie’s still talking to me. He’s moved closer, and when he reaches out for my arm, I jolt away. The floor still wobbles, so walking is a challenge, but I can’t have him touching me. Not right now.

A tight, molten-hot band tightens around my chest, and I raise one hand to my throat as if I can claw open my windpipe just an inch wider. Anything to take a breath.

Frankie surges forward and his hands land on my shoulders. He shakes me sharply and my head snaps back and forth. His brow is deep, and whatever he says draws the attention of Nick and Archer. Their heads snap around, and through my blurry tears, I see the door slam closed and both of them approach.

It’s too much. Their presence is almost as smothering as the heat rising in my own body.

Throwing my arms up is the only way to dislodge Frankie as my heart pounds so loudly. It’s like a drumbeat in my ears and the only thing I can hear over the paper-thin wheeze of my own breathing.

The tight pain in my chest lowers to my abdomen, and try as I might, I’m losing the ability to breathe.

Static fills my head, and when I take a step back, the ground vanishes. I’m falling down… down… down…

My ass hits the floor and sends a sharp jolt of pain up my spine. As I scramble back with a gasp, the jolt seems to bring me out of my silent world, and Nick’s voice drifts toward me. He’s right in front of me and yet he sounds like he’s talking through a bad cell connection.

“Rayne, it’s okay… breathe… you need to take a deep… he’s gone.”

A deep breath.

Through my tears, their wobbly mirages dance back and forth. I can’t tell him how hard it is for me to breathe.

Suddenly, Archer’s woody smell fills my nose on my next short breath, and he thrusts something rough over my mouth. I struggle immediately and try to push him away, but he’s steadfast in holding something over my mouth.

I gasp.

Breathing out inflates whatever it is, and breathing back in causes it to crumple and crackle.

“Keep going,” he barks, and his voice is clearer.

I have no choice but to obey.

In and out.

In and out.

Over and over.

Whether it’s his presence or the paper bag over my face, I can’t be sure, but gradually, each short breath becomes a little longer. The band across my chest starts to loosen, and the static feeling in my head softens.

“That’s it,” Archer says. His voice is stronger with each passing minute. “Keep breathing just like that. Focus on nothing else.”

“A panic attack,” says Frankie’s voice. I blearily look up. Frankie’s pacing back and forth behind Nick, repeatedly running his hand through his hair. Nick is on his haunches in front of me, his face twisted into concern.

They’re all here for me. Worried.

I want to stay here forever. Just in this bubble. Sure, I feel like shit, but they don’t know the truth yet. Right now, they still care for me.

“It’s an old method,” Archer says quietly, “but it works.”

My rabbit-fast heart finally slows to a more manageable pace, but each beat is still a punch like it’s trying to break free through my ribs.

I swallow hard and wince sharply. My throat is sandpaper dry.

The pressure in my head swells just behind my eyes, right in my temples, so I close my eyes and focus on breathing. The bag crinkles and crumples along with me. Over time, my panting is less and less. I don’t know how long it’s been, but finally, I open my eyes. Everyone is still in the same position. I glance at Archer, and he seems to understand that I no longer need the bag, so he lowers it slowly.

“Rayne?” Nick asks in that soft voice.

Hearing it makes emotion swell in my chest. They won’t talk to me like that once Ashton’s truth comes out. I wet my parched lips. Swallowing is a struggle. All moisture has left my mouth and seems to be leaking out my eyes.

“I…” I croak. The word burns, and I wince.

“Frankie, get her some water,” Nick orders. Frankie, seemingly grateful for some direction, strides into the kitchen.

“Rayne, I think you owe us some answers,” Archer states. His tone is firmer than Nick’s. I look at him and finally see the blood coating the slightly twisted flesh of his knuckles. That must have been one hell of a punch.

“Archer’s right,” Nick says. “Although we don’t have to do this now.”

“If not now, then when?” Archer snaps slightly. “Do we wait until that cunt comes back and starts some other shit? You saw him. That fucker is unhinged. Rayne.” He looks back at me. “We can’t help you if we don’t know exactly what you are running from. Why did you choose to stay here? And I mean the real reason. The more we know, the better we can?—”

“I killed two people.”

Those four words bring a deathly silence to the group, and Archer’s mouth remains open in shock.

I’ve never uttered those words aloud before. They’ve danced around my head for years. Haunted my dreams. Terrorized me, even when I was awake. I see their faces in the mirror. I see the car accident every time I’m driving.

I’ve spent the past six years trapped in Ashton’s twisted games, never able to utter the truth, and now, here in front of the men I’ve come to care about more than I’ve ever cared about anyone, I say it.

And sentence myself to the end.

“I–I’m a murderer. I killed two people.”