Outtake: Regrets #GianCara
Hey, loves! We’re back for another Friday Outtake. I pulled from some of the newer requests to write this one. Also note, I will not be posting the form for a while to add more requests because I have dozens as it is and need to work through some of them.
Ready? Let’s go.
A Gian and Cara Outtake
“Where is Chris?”
Gian hadn’t even closed the front door to the mansion before his wife managed to notice something was wrong after her husband returned back from his trip to Vegas where he had business to do with The League.
Not surprising, though.
Cara always knew when something was wrong between her husband or with her boys. It was simply who she was—he never bothered to attempt to hide anything from her.
“He …” Gian stopped himself from saying more, and lifted his head to find Cara standing at the bottom of the left staircase rounding their home’s gran entry. If he had allowed for this to happen, he thought he should at least stare his wife in the face and tell her at the same time. Wasn’t that only fair? “He decided to stay—to join The League. Alongside Corrado.”
The Corrado bit wouldn’t be a surprise to his wife. The entire reason for this trip to Vegas had been to give teenaged Corrado something … different. Or rather, the chance to see something different that the options he had laid out in front of him now.
Chris came along.
He usually did when it came to his twin.
The word cut through the room.
They almost cut him off at the knees.
“You knew it was a possibility,” Gian was quick to say, “and that if the opportunity was offered, I should not offer my input. I thought you worked out how you felt about this before I even took them to Vegas—it’s no different except that Chris will join his twin with training, bella. Can’t you look at it like that?”
Gian straightened. “Cara—”
“A possibility, Gian. Not a real thing. Not reality for either of them. Just a possibility because Corrado would be there—you only even mentioned the suggestion of it for him. You barely even mentioned Christopher for this. You made it seem like this wasn’t for him at all. Did you know the possibility was good for both of them to join?”
“I couldn’t be sure, but—”
“Yes or no.”
“Chris often follows Corrado—yes, it was a possibility. Obviously. I didn’t think he would in this case so I didn’t bother to bring it up into our conversations.”
His wife scoffed, echoing him at the same time, “Obviously, like I should have known. And what, you couldn’t tell him no?”
“Would you just—”
“Are you going to apologize?”
“No,” Gian said without thinking about it. He didn’t need to think about it. “If the boys find something they want or need from The League, then that’s good. I’m sorry that it hurts you, though.”
“What about them?”
“They will be fine.”
They had to be.
“It’ll be the same for both of them, then? The same everything?”
A lump formed in Gian’s throat, yet he still said, “Yes.”
“Are you saying they’ll train Christopher like Corrado?” Cara asked, her voice turning shriller with every word because yes, now she understood.
And good God, the absolute wreck that became his wife in those moments slammed into him like a Mack truck going straight through his heart. That, he would always regret. Hurting her. Until he died—every single moment he’d done something to make his wife feel pain would play on repeat in his mind; every memory a reminder that he had never been worthy of this woman.
And yet, she loved him anyway.
“The same way,” he found himself saying. It was nothing more than an echo. “The same training for both, Cara. It’s The League’s policy.”
“The training Cree developed as the best way to break a mind quickly and without lasting physical damage—the training that involves repeated drowning … that one, Gian? The training I told you made me sick to my stomach knowing anyone would be put through it—that training?”
Every word that came out of her mouth stabbed into him like a knife. He bet he could bleed out every apology on the floor and yet it still wouldn’t be enough.
“We talked about this when it came to Corrado and—”
“And Corrado is not Christopher!”
Silence followed her scream.
She was right.
Nothing she said was a lie.
He breathed deep.
So did she.
Across the great entry, Cara turned and grabbed the railing, taking the steps two at a time until she came to a stop in the middle. Looking over her shoulder at him, she said, “They only look the same, but inside … they’re two different people. How many times did we tell them that very thing—why are you making me tell you? Chris should have come back with you.”
“Find a couch to sleep on, Gian. You will not be joining me.”
Four long days.
That was how long he’d slept alone on a couch in his wife’s library. Oh, they talked a lot over the four days. Talked until the last thing he wanted to do was say another word. Cara didn’t ignore him, and she loved dissecting everything she could down to the base emotions of why.
They talked. They fought.
He let her.
So, on the fifth day when Gian woke up on the same couch, he stared at the wall and wondered if today would be the day something finally changed.
“How long are you going to sleep in here?” came a soft voice from the doorway.
Still staring at the wall of the library, Gian sighed. “Well, I suppose until you ask me back to your bed, cara mia.”
Cara made a gentle noise and the squeak of her feet taking a few steps into the large space said she’d come closer to him. Not close enough, though. He had to admit that. “It’s also your bed—our bed, even.”
“Mmm, no. It’s always been yours. Everything that becomes mine doesn’t stay that way for long—I give it all to you. So, the bedroom is yours, oui? And until you invite me back, I will sleep in here because you’ve not told me to do otherwise.”
“Are you going to apologize now?”
Gian barely had to think about that.
“I will apologize for hurting you—not for what I did. The same way I did when I came home and told you, Cara.”
“Do you even regret it?”
He didn’t have to think about that, either. He couldn’t find regret in giving his boys something that may very well define the rest of their lives—and God, he wanted each of his children to find themselves and not just reflect him. He did, however, regret what came after that choice. And every reason for that was tied into the woman who wouldn’t come close enough to let him touch her.
Because he knew …
And so did she …
If he touched her, if she let him close, Cara would forget all of it. She’d let him apologize until his tongue bled and his throat ached. She would forgive him.
She still would like this, too.
But this way allowed her to be angry—for as long as she damn well pleased—and after, to work through it in a healthy way. Gian would let her, too. He always would. As he said, everything that became his, well, he quickly gave it back to her.
“All of my regrets always boil down to what I’ve done to you. Does that tell you enough or do you need me to say more?”
It took Cara a second. Then, two.
“You can come back to our bed, Gian.”
“Are you still angry?”
“Very,” she whispered.
“I know, Gian. That’s what makes this worse.”