Текст книги "Back To Back"

Автор книги: Chelsea M. Cameron

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Thirteen

Now I really don’t know what to say. Dad steps away from me and starts picking up the items on the floor. I wait for a moment and then join him. We’re silent as we replace everything to where it used to be. The only casualty is a paperweight shaped like a ship my mother bought him.

“Shame,” I say, tossing it in the trash.

“Not really,” he says and I see the glimmer of a potential smile on his face. “I always hated that thing, but I held onto it because I didn’t want to argue with your mother over it.” He does a lot of things to avoid arguing with her.

“Why do you stay with her?” The words are out of my mouth before I realize I’ve said them. I’ve never asked him this before, even though I’ve wanted to my entire life.

He pauses, his hand adjusting a book on one of the shelves.

“As the years go on, I find fewer and fewer reasons,” he says quietly, not meeting my eyes. Going back to his chair, he sits down. I resume my place in his leather guest chair.

“In the early days, I told myself I could grow to love her. And then you came along and I told myself it was best for you to have two parents. As you got older, I told myself it was to protect you from your mother. And now you’re a grown woman and don’t need my protection.” They’re all valid, though misguided, reasons.

“I would have gone with you. If you left,” I say. Given the choice between my two parents, I would have picked him. For a moment, I imagine that life. Free from the constant criticism and fights. I wonder if I would have turned out differently. There’s no way to know.

“I know. But she would have fought for custody and probably would have gotten it. I didn’t want to take the risk.” That I can also understand.

“I don’t blame you. I just wanted to know,” I say. He made the best choice he could, given the circumstances.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you resented me. I deserve it.” I shake my head.

“No, you don’t.”

He’s being so honest with me and my lie is heavy in my stomach. Like a dark, rotting thing, eating away at me. I want to purge it from my body, get it out, but I just can’t seem to tell him.

“Are you going to tell Sylas?” He deserves to know. I can’t even begin to imagine what his reaction is going to be.

“No,” he says.

“No? Are you serious?” I ask. What is he thinking?

“No. I’m not going to tell him. I’m going to take care of this and then it will be like he’s been dead all along. Telling him will only hurt him.” I get to my feet.

“You cannot be fucking serious.” I’ve never sworn at my father. Ever. It shocks both of us.

He points a finger at me. “Watch your tone.” Oh hell no.

“You can’t hide this from him. It’s not right.” Now I’m the one pacing the room and I definitely want to throw things. This back and forth with my father and Sylas has been slowly driving me crazy. It’s too much to deal with.

Dad’s eyes narrow and I know I’ve said too much.

“Are you still seeing him?” I open my mouth to lie and I can’t.

“Yes. I am. He and I are…” What are we? I don’t even know what to call it.

“Saige!” I pivot in around and clench my hands together. I wanted to put this off as long as possible, but here we are.

“I know! I know! I’m an idiot, but I can’t stop. I love him. I love him,” I say, and my voice breaks. Now it’s my turn to cry.

Dad opens and closes his mouth a few times.

“I wanted to tell you. I’m so sorry I didn’t. But I love him. I didn’t mean to, but once it started, I couldn’t stop it.” Loving Sylas feels like being hit by lightning. One minute you’re standing there and then you’re completely different and you have no idea how it happened. I loved him without intention, without forethought. Before I knew what was happening, I was in too deep to get myself out. I had no choice but to let myself drown.

“How long?” Dad asks.

“For a while. Before I stopped working on him. I told myself it was part of the con, but it wasn’t. I said it and I meant it. And he loves me too.” Dad makes a snorting noise.

“And you believe him? What are you thinking, Saige?” This is the exact reaction I expected. I only have one answer for him.

“I love him.”

Dad sits down and turns everything over in his mind for at least ten minutes. I wait patiently for his next question, his next challenge. He turns in his chair and looks out the window into the back garden. It’s my mother’s pride and joy, even though she does none of the gardening herself. Rather she hires a team of gardeners and sits on a chair and yells at them. Like a queen with her subjects.

“I don’t know what to say, Saige.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” There’s nothing else I can say, really.

“I thought you told me everything,” he whispers, and I see that he’s crying again, but the tears fall silently down his face and onto his shirt.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I say, wiping away my own tears. This has been quite a day for revelations. “I hated lying to you. It made me sick.”

He shakes his head slowly and then wipes his eyes with both hands.

“I never should have had you take that job. This is my fault.” That’s definitely not true.

“We would have met anyway,” I say. “Because of Lizzy.”

He nods, as if he’d forgotten about that particular connection.

“I just wish it hadn’t happened this way.”

Now that is something we can agree on.

“I think that thought every single day. But I don’t regret it did. Because I love him and I love my sister. I always wanted a family. One who loved me back.” Besides him.

“I love you,” he says. “I thought that would be enough.” I get up and give him another hug.

“It is enough. You’ve always been enough. But I’m a woman now. I need other kinds of love in my life.” He stares into my eyes and smiles, just a little bit.

He runs his hands through my hair.

“I still see you as a little girl sometimes. Running around and making your mother mad for getting dirt on your dress.”

“But I’m not that little girl anymore.” He sighs.

“I know, I know.”

My phone rings and I pull it out of my back pocket. It’s Cash.

“Who is it?” Dad asks.

“Um, Lo. I’m just going to go to my room to talk to her,” I say, heading toward the door. It’s another lie, but a little one.

Dad lets me leave and I shut the door to his office behind me. I pick up the call before it flips over to voicemail.

“Hello?” I say.

“Hello, Saige Beaumont,” he says and his tone is the same. As if he’s laughing at a joke someone just told him.

“What can I do for you?” I ask as I walk up the stairs.

“Well, now, why would I need something? Maybe I’m just calling to chat,” he says and I roll my eyes as I walk into my bedroom and lock the door behind me.

“Yeah, okay,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Fine, fine. I was wondering if you had seen Sylas today.”

“Why?” I ask. That makes him laugh.

“I don’t have ulterior motives, I promise. I was just waiting to hear from him about something and I thought I would cover all my bases and go ahead and ask you.” I’m still suspicious. Something doesn’t feel right.

“What are you waiting to hear from him about?” I ask, sitting on the edge of my bed. I really hate this room. One of these days I’m going to pay a crew to redecorate it and give my mother a heart attack.

“Nice try.”

“It was worth a shot.” There’s a beat of silence and I wait for him to say goodbye and hang up. But he doesn’t.

“Anything else?” I ask.

“No, nothing, nothing.”

“Okayyyyy,” I say, but he still doesn’t hang up. “This is fun, but I have things to do so unless you have something else you want to talk to me about…”

“No, no. Just if you see him, tell him to call me.” Oh, there’s definitely more to it than that.

“I will,” I say.

“Goodbye, Saige Beaumont.”

“Bye, Cash,” I say, hanging up and wondering what the hell that was.

I go back downstairs and Dad isn’t in the office. I search around and see him in the garden. The French doors that lead outside from the kitchen are wide open, the muggy summer air seeping into the house and battling for dominance with the air conditioner.

He’s walking through the rows of rosebushes, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Hey,” I say, getting his attention. He turns and gives me a tight smile.

“Everything okay with Lo?” he asks.

“Yup,” I say, nodding. It would be way too complicated to explain the Cash situation to him right now. I’ve got another bomb to drop on him. I sit back down in the chair.

“I’m going to tell Sylas. He has a right to know,” I say and Dad’s fist clench. I take a breath. “You can’t stop me from telling him.”

“Saige.”

“No. I love you, Dad, but this isn’t right.” This is one thing that I couldn’t keep from Sylas, even if I wanted to. This is a lie that can’t be kept. “This man ruined his life and he needs to know. Put yourself in his place.” His mouth turns into a tight line and his jaw clenches so hard I wonder if he’s going to damage his teeth.

“I want to be the one to take his life. I was so disappointed when I heard that he was killed in prison. I had dreams about it. Still do sometimes.” That shocks me a little. I’ve never imagined my dad as a violent man. Or at least not like that.

“I think I should go,” I say. I want to get to Sylas. It’s going to be horrific to be the one to tell him, but I’m okay with that.

“Don’t hurt him, Saige. This news will only hurt him,” he says.

“That’s not for you to decide. I promised him total honesty and I’m not going to go back on that,” I say, getting up and heading toward the door. I expect him to try to stop me, but he doesn’t.

I’m shaking a bit as I get into my car.

I have to tell him.

The BMW isn’t anywhere near my apartment. I park my car and head upstairs. It’s dark and empty. No Sylas to greet me at the door. I pull out my phone and call him.

He doesn’t pick up. I leave a message.

“Sylas, please call me back when you get this. Or come to my apartment. I have to tell you something.” I end the message and start pacing. That only lasts a few minutes. I feed Leo, who is pissed at me for not playing with him, but then I’m out the door and driving to his place.

He’s not here. I break in just to make sure, but the place is Sylas free. I chew on my lip and walk around. It’s been a while since I’ve been here. I wonder why he uses this crappy apartment when he could have something so much better. Just another part of the mystery that is Sylas.

I wait for a while, but he doesn’t come back. Sighing, I go back to my car and drive back home.

It’s two in the morning when I finally go to bed. I’ve been up and waiting for Sylas for hours. I’ve called him dozens of times and heard nothing.

I’m definitely scared. I think about calling Cash, but something tells me I shouldn’t. Call it intuition. I sleep fitfully and wake up at eight. Sylas still isn’t back and I’m officially freaked out.

I call him one more time, but it goes straight to voicemail, which means his phone is off.

At a loss with what to do, I call Cash.

“Hello, Saige Beaumont, what can I do for you?” He’s making a joke of what I said last time, but I’m in no mood for it.

“Sylas is gone. He didn’t come back last night and he won’t answer any of my calls.” He’s silent for a second.

“Did you have a fight?” I want to scream at him. This isn’t some boyfriend/girlfriend drama. He has to take this seriously.

“No. We spent the day together and now he’s gone. I just want to know that he’s okay,” I say. I know he can track Sylas’ phone in seconds.

“Fine, fine,” he says. “Hold on, I’ll bring up the tracker in his phone.”

There’s some clicking and then silence.

“He’s at the other apartment. The one he brought you to.” Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?

“Thanks,” I say, hanging up before he says anything else. I’m down the stairs and heading for my car. I remember where the place is. I’m good at directions. Once I’ve been someplace, even if I didn’t drive, I can find it again.

I let out the biggest sigh of relief when I see the BMW. Thank God.

I rush into the building and up to his floor. I don’t even bother with the doorbell. I just bang on the door with my fist.

“Sylas? Sylas, open up!” I don’t give a shit if I’m disturbing his neighbors.

The door opens and there he is. I launch myself at him and he catches me.

“Where were you?” I ask as I squeeze the life out of him.

“I told you I had some things to do at home,” he says, patting my back as if I’m overreacting. A red flag immediately goes up.

“You weren’t at home. I went there and you weren’t there. Why didn’t you call me? I needed you to call me.” He lets me go and I land with a thump on my feet. I’ve always liked our height difference, but I’m not very fond of it right now. I simultaneously want to kiss and strangle him.

“Sorry, I just got busy.”

“That’s not a fucking answer, Sylas. What the hell is going on?” I look around him. It wouldn’t surprise me if someone else were here.

He’s closed off to me and it reminds me of when he was playing the part of Quinn. At least, at first. He was much more reserved than his real personality. I hold his face in both hands and force him to look at me.

“You had me scared, Sylas. I need an explanation.” I dig my fingers into his skin, hard enough to hurt, but I need him to know how frightened I was that something had happened to him.

“I’m sorry. I just… I had something to do.” No, this is not fucking happening. I remove my hands from his face, put them on his chest and shove him backwards until we’re in the apartment. I turn to slam the door and lock it.

“Explain. Now.”

He takes a deep breath and then steps away from me.

“I was working, okay? I was doing a job.” My heart drops.

“What kind of job?” He raises an eyebrow.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Fuck you, I want to know. Tell me now.”

What is it with stubborn men? I’m surrounded by them. I cross my arms and I’m about two seconds away from stomping my feet like a toddler.

I need to tell him about his father, but I have to deal with this first.

“I was doing surveillance and I had to turn my phone off so I wouldn’t be detected. I’m sorry I didn’t call you, Saige. I really am.” That I believe. He does look sorry.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me that? Jesus.” I have to walk away from him for a minute. I go and sit on the hard couch. I hate this apartment. It’s clinical and cold and boring.

Sylas comes to sit next to me.

“You fucked up, Sylas. Big time. I really need to tell you something. If we’re going to do this, you and me, you have to tell me what’s going on. I don’t need to know every single detail, but if you’re going to be gone all night, I need to know.” He listens to me and nods, his hands clasped together.

“You’re right. I’m just not used to being accountable to someone else. It’s just been me for a long time.” I’m not exactly buying his explanation, but I have to tell him about his father.

“The reason I’m so upset with you is that my father told me something and he asked me not to tell you, but I think you need to know.” He sits up and I decide to take his hands in mine.

“Tell me,” he says, but there is absolutely no way to prepare him for this.

“Your father didn’t die in prison. He’s alive and he’s in Texas.” I watch as my words hit him. He’s still. So still. His hands are clamped on mine and his face is frozen.

Finally, he blinks and surges to his feet.

“That’s a lie. He’s dead.”

I shake my head.

“He’s not.” I reach into my back pocket and bring out one of the surveillance pictures I was able to snag. He unfolds it and stares at it. His hand shakes.

“It isn’t possible,” he whispers. “It just isn’t possible.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. I seem to be saying that a lot lately.

“No,” he says, crumpling up the picture and throwing it on the floor. “It’s a lie. He’s dead. He’s dead!” He storms through the apartment, and, if he’s anything like my father, I’m glad there isn’t a whole lot of stuff for him to destroy.

“I don’t know more of the details. My father does. He wants to kill him.” That makes him whirl around and glare at me.

“Where is he?” I’m not sure which “he” Sylas is referring to.

My throat is so dry. I need some water. “My father? Or yours?”

“Yours,” he growls. “Mine is dead.”

Shit.

“I don’t know. I think he’s at home.” As soon as I say it, he’s charging toward the door and I’m rushing after him.

“If you’re going to see him, you’re taking me with you,” I yell, but I don’t think he hears me. It’s hard for me to keep up with him as he barrels down the street to the BMW. He gets in and slams the door and I have just enough time to yank open the passenger side and throw myself in before he peels away from the curb.

I click my seatbelt, and tell Sylas to put his on, but he doesn’t even seem to notice that I’m in the car. His foot is slammed down on the accelerator and he runs through two red lights.

“Sylas. You’re going to get pulled over and then we’re never going to get there.” He doesn’t acknowledge me, but he does pause a little at stop signs and he’s not so aggressive on the accelerator.

We make it to my parents’ house in one piece and I cringe because my mother’s car is there, along with my father’s. This is going to be interesting to explain.

Sylas out of the car and through the door before I can unclick my seatbelt. I rush after him and Martha comes out, flustered.

“Where is he?” Sylas roars. Dad appears at the top of the stairs and Sylas take them two at a time to get to him.

“Sylas? What are you doing here?” Dad says warily.

“I told him,” I say, loud enough for Dad to hear before Sylas gets to him. He reaches Dad before I’m halfway up the stairs. I scream as Sylas grabs my father’s throat and shoves him backward until he’s slammed up against the wall.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Sylas roars into my dad’s face. I finally reach them and throw myself on Sylas.

“Let go of him!” I scream in his ear. But it’s like trying to move a raging bull. I watch as Dad tries to get free, his eyes popping and his skin getting whiter.

“Let go!” I scream, pounding on Sylas. If I don’t do something, Sylas is going to kill him.

“Sylas, you’re killing him.” He must hear me on some level because he opens his hand and Dad crumples to the floor, gasping. I rush to him, to make sure he’s okay.

“Dad?” He gasps and holds his hand up.

“I’m fine,” he wheezes and coughs a bunch of times. There are red marks on his throat and I know there are going to be bruises.

He slides upward until he’s sitting with his knees up and his back against the wall.

“I’m fine, really Saige,” he says. His voice is raspy and I wonder if I should call an ambulance. I turn and look up at Sylas. The rage is still in his eyes, but there’s something else there that’s even stronger.

Pain.

I’ve seen it before, but never this strong. Never this intense.

“Sylas?” I say and he looks down at me. He clenches and unclenches his hands, staring at them as if he’s never seen them before.

“I’m sorry?” he says, like it’s a question. “I’m sorry.” He blinks, totally dazed.

“Are you okay?” I ask Dad again. He nods and I stand. I reach out to Sylas. I touch his shoulder and then push him a little. He doesn’t resist, so I grab him and lead him down the hall to my room. Even though he just tried to throttle my dad, I’m not afraid of him.

I close the door and turn to face him. He’s sitting on the bed, still looking thunderstruck.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” he says, so quietly I almost don’t hear it.

“I know,” I say. “But you did.” He nods slowly. I walk until I’m standing right in front of him.

“My father can’t be alive. He can’t be.” He reaches out and grabs onto my waist, burying his head in my stomach.

I reach down and stroke his hair. I’m watching the destruction of the man I love. He’s breaking apart in front of me and I don’t know what to do to hold him together.

“I used to dream that he was alive. That he would show up and find me, or find Lizzy. Back then I thought he just had a hand in her death. I didn’t know he caused it.” His shoulders shake and I just keep stroking his hair and holding onto him.

“He can’t be alive,” he says again, but he doesn’t seem as sure. I’m about to say something, anything, but there’s a knock at the door. It opens and Dad pokes his head in. Sylas looks up and I’m glad that I’m standing in between him and Dad.

“I’m sorry,” Sylas says.

Dad just nods once.

“This is why I said not to tell him, Saige,” Dad says, looking at me. Is he seriously telling me this is my fault?

“He needed to know. That man killed his mother.” I find myself feeling protective of Sylas. He’s never had anyone to protect him. He’s always been the protector.

Dad rubs his neck where the red marks are already starting to turn into bruises.

“You’re lucky your mother is passed out.” She likes to mix meds and alcohol and has a tendency to sleep for long periods in the middle of the day.

“You’re a liar,” Sylas says, and stands up. I still make sure I’m between the two men.

“I wish I was. I only just found out myself. He was able to weasel his way into Witness Protection and then he was able to change his identity a number of times and completely fall off the radar. I was only able to find him because he showed up in some surveillance photos. But you don’t have to worry about him. I have a team that’s on the way to get him and then I will dispose of him.”

Sylas just keeps shaking his head.

“No. No, no, no, no! Stop lying!” Sylas screams. He’s not going for Dad again, but he’s getting worked up.

“I’m not lying,” Dad says slowly. “I can give you all the evidence I have. But you have to calm down and before we can talk.” Sylas starts breathing heavily, gasping.

“I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe,” he says, his hand on his chest. He’s having another panic attack.

“Sit down,” I say, pushing on his shoulders so he’s back on the bed. “Dad, leave.” I don’t look to see if he obeys me, but I hear the door close.

Getting down on my knees, I put my hand under his chin and force him to look at me.

“We’re going to breathe together, okay? In, one, two, three, four, five, and out, one, two, three, four, five,” I say. He’s still gasping, but after a few more tries, he starts slowing his breathing and I can feel him coming out of it. He blinks and then I know he’s back. It feels like déjà vu. The last time he got a lot of information dropped on him, he reacted the same way. It’s like his brain and body just overload and he can’t deal with it.

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” I say, stroking his face. Even with everything that’s been going on in the past two days, I can’t deny that I love him. That I love him so much it feels like it’s eating me alive.

“I don’t even know what’s happening to me. What’s happening to me?” he says, and he sounds scared. Like a scared little boy.

“You’re going through a lot right now, Sylas.” I doubt he’s ever talked to a therapist, but that might be a good idea. Maybe after we get through this crisis. If we get through it.

“I don’t believe it,” he says.

“I know, I know. But let’s calm down a little more and then we can go downstairs and you can decide for yourself.” I keep my voice even and calm.

“Why are you doing this for me?” he asks, reaching out and rubbing his thumb across my lower lip. I really want to kiss him, but it’s probably not the best idea right now.

“Because I love you.”

“You shouldn’t. I don’t deserve it,” he says.

“And that’s why I do. Because you don’t think that you do.” He licks his lips and I think about kissing him again. He seems stable now, so I get to my feet and hold my hand out.

“Come on.” He follows me out of the room and down the stairs.