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  “I’m okay, Saige. I’m not going to bust into a crazy mess again. I’ve got my head on straight.” He seems defensive, but I don’t say anything.

  “I just worry about you. Someone has to.” I’m more than happy to fill that role of Sylas’ Official Worrier.

  “I understand.” I don’t want to say more than that and risk starting a fight between us. The television is still on the cooking channel and Sylas hands me the remote.

  “Your turn. I’ve had control all day,” he says with a smile. Remote as olive branch. I take it from him and flip around until I find something I want to watch. There’s a lot of crap to wade through until I find a show about antiques getting appraised. Sylas groans when I stop flipping.

  “This just makes me think of Cash. He’s obsessed with antiques. Like, beyond obsessed. His house is filled with old shit. Every time we have to move, it’s an absolute pain in the ass,” he says.

  “He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would be into antiques.” Not at all. Maybe I underestimated Cash. Won’t make that mistake again.

  “Yeah, he’s an odd one.” I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t as a woman brings a painting in that her grandmother gave her and told her was by a famous artist. Turns out it’s a fake and the woman is crushed. Ouch.

  We watch the show and then another one and then another. It seems an odd thing to do after the sex on the kitchen floor, but Sylas seems distant again. I want to ask him what he’s going to do tomorrow, but I don’t want to be a nag.

  He pulls me close when we go to bed and whispers that he loves me.

  “I love you.” I close my eyes and then he whispers one more thing.

  “I’ll eat you up, I love you so.”

  Nineteen

  The next three days are the same. I go to class and come home and Sylas is on the couch. He’s always wearing sweats and he’s always watching television. We talk, but it’s not the same as it once was. I try to ask him about what he’s going to do, but he just brushes me off, or starts taking my clothes off. He’s very good at using sex to distract me.

  I haven’t heard from Dad, and I’m too afraid to call him. I know he’ll contact me when he’s gotten the job done. I’m not looking forward to sharing that particular bit of information with Sylas.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask for the thousandth time on Friday as I’m getting ready for drinks with Lo. Sylas is currently on the couch and eating popcorn out of a bowl that’s balanced on his stomach. I get a glimpse of the man he might be in twenty years if he continues the same pattern he’s currently in. Except he’d probably be more overweight and have a bald patch on his head. He’d still be sexy as hell and I’d still want to fuck him every single second of every single day.

  “Yes, I can be alone in the apartment without you, Saige. I’ll be fine. Leo and I are going to watch the game.” I have no idea what sport he’s even talking about and I’m running late so I just give him a quick kiss that’s buttery and salty before I head out the door.

  I take a cab to the bar so I don’t have to worry about driving home. Lo is already there and has a drink in her hand when I rush in. She’s got a dress on that makes her legs look like they’re longer than I am tall.

  “Hey, sorry, sorry,” I say as she glares. Lo hates being late. Hates. It.

  “What’s the excuse?” she asks.

  “Boy stuff,” I say. It’s not a total lie. Sylas and I had a little session when I got home and I had to rush to shower and dry my hair afterwards.

  “Details,” she says, motioning to the bartender to bring another dirty martini for me. It’s nice having a tall friend since she never gets ignored and always gets served right away.

  I roll my eyes.

  “Well, he sort of lost his job, so he’s… directionless.” That’s a good way to put it. “He’s just sort of moping around the house and I wish I could do something to fix it, but he’s got to want to fix it. It’s just so frustrating.” The drink arrives and I have to fight the urge to down the entire thing in one go.

  “Ugh, that’s the worst. Men aren’t good at being useless. I think it goes back to the caveman days when they had to go out and hunt and be providers. Only now they go out and trade stocks or fix cars or whatever.” She’s absolutely right. One of the things I love about Lo is how smart she is, and how she’s not afraid to show it.

  “I know, I know. He’ll get through it, things are just a little weird right now. But how are you?” I’d rather focus on someone else’s life for a while. Lo takes me on a long trip through the Saga of Tadd. She’s had this thing going with a guy she met at a bar a year ago and I’ve been privy to all the most intimate details. Whether I wanted to know them or not. My opinion, that no one named Tadd is worth her time, is lost because apparently Tadd is gifted in the dick department and knows how to use it.

  “If he didn’t make me come, like, ten times in one night I’d be able to ditch him,” she says, the volume of her voice much too loud for the subject matter. She gets a look from a guy sitting at the next table and just gives him her patented glare that would freeze boiling water. He quickly becomes interested in his beer bottle.

  “So anyway, he calls me and I think he’s going to ask me out, but it turned out it was just a booty call. And then I find out that he’s been dating this other girl and called me to bang right after he dropped her off.” She drains her martini glass and pouts.

  “Why are the worst guys for you always the best at getting you off?”

  “No idea,” I say, nursing my own drink. The temptation to go wild and get blasted is totally there, but I’d rather not show up back at home stumbling drunk. Not that Sylas would care.

  “I’m getting another, you want?” I shake my head and she goes off to get another drink. In addition to the long legs, she also has a high alcohol tolerance and can still walk straight even if she’s blitzed.

  My phone rings and I cringe when I see that it’s Dad. There’s only one reason he’s calling. Lo arrives back with her drink and I say that I’m going outside to take a call. I move away from the front of the door so I can hear him and have a little privacy.

  “Dad?” I say.

  “It’s done,” he says, his voice totally cold. The martinis start churning in my stomach and I think I’m going to throw up.

  “Did it go well?” I ask, my voice sounding like it doesn’t belong to me.

  “Yes, fine. I’ll be home tomorrow and we can discuss details in person. Goodbye, Saige.” He hangs up and I nearly collapse on the ground. Now I know what happens to Sylas when he has his episodes. My chest feels like it has something pressed on it and I can’t seem to take a deep breath. I tell myself the same things I tell Sylas and start breathing slow and even. The horrible feeling passes and I’m able to unstick my feet from the sidewalk and go back into the bar.

  “What’s wrong?” I couldn’t hide what’s going on from Lo if I tried.

  “I have to go. Something came up and I have to go take care of it. I’m fine, I promise. I’ll call you later.” I try to walk away from her, but she snags my arm and I’d have to really hurt her to get her to let go.

  “No. You are you going to tell me what’s up. Something has you spooked. What’s wrong?” I know she’s only doing it because she loves me, but I don’t need this right now. I need to get home to Sylas. I need to figure out some way to tell him that his father is dead once and for all.

  “Look, it’s something with my dad, okay? I can’t talk about it right now,” I pull against her and her eyes widen. I may be small, but I’m a lot stronger than I look. I like to think if myself as compact, and not short.

  “I swear to God, Lo. This is not time for you to be a nosy friend. Drop. It.” I don’t really care if she’s pissed at me. There have been many other times that I’ve had instances where I had to lie to her. But I was a lot better at it.

  “Come on,” she says, and I shake my head. She looks around and then tows me outside. The only way to get fre
e would be to make a scene and I don’t want to do that.

  Lo pulls me out of the bar and down into an alley. What is it with me and alleys? She finally lets go.

  “Look, I know you have a secret life, Saige. I’m not an idiot. I know you have things you can tell me, but something has you upset and it has me scared. I really do worry about you. You’re my best friend and I love you.” I’ve never seen Lo this way. So serious.

  “I’m not going to ask you to tell me because if you could, you would have.” That’s true. And it’s not even that I can’t tell her. My secret life isn’t mine to tell. If I told her about me, I’d have to tell her about Dad and that’s definitely not going to happen.

  “I need to go, Lo. I’m not in danger, I promise. It’s not me.” She searches my eyes and I can tell she’s searching for the lies. “I’ll call you later, I promise.”

  “You’d better. Let me get you a cab.” She steps out and back onto the sidewalk and raises her arm. Yet another reason Lo is a good friend to have is that she can get a cab faster than you can say “taxi”.

  Before I get in, she leans down and gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “I worry about you.”

  “I know,” I say, hugging her back. “I know. I love you.”

  “Love you too. Be safe.” I get in the cab and wave goodbye.

  The ride back to my apartment takes forever and no time at all. I want to get there and I don’t because the minute I get there, I’m going to have to tell Sylas. He’s going to know that something is up the minute I walk in.

  I open the door and find him on the couch again.

  “You’re back early,” he says, sitting up. He looks a little concerned, but then he sees my face.

  “What is it?” The color drains from his cheeks and I know he knows without me having to say it. I put my bag down and go to him. I pray for a steady voice and the strength to do this.

  “Dad called,” I say and he freezes.

  “He’s dead,” he says in a robotic voice. He’s detached and I worry about him having another episode.

  “Yes,” I say, confirming it. “I don’t have any other details, but he’s going to be coming back tomorrow and if you want, we can go to the house and get all the details. All I know is that it’s done.”

  He’s not crying. He’s barely breathing. He’s not moving.

  “Talk to me. You need to talk to me, Sylas.” I put both hands on his shoulders.

  “It’s done,” he says.

  “Yes. It’s done. He’s dead and you never have to think of him again. It’s over.” I want this to be happy news for him. Freeing news.

  “It’s over,” he repeats.

  “That’s right.”

  He breathes for a little bit longer and I wait.

  “Okay then,” he says and then gets to his feet. “How was drinks with Lo?”

  What? That’s it?

  “It was fine,” I say, warily as he goes to the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water. “Are you okay?”

  He grips the glass and I’m afraid it’s going to shatter.

  “Saige, if you ask me that one more time, I’m going to break something.” He glares at me and sits back down. There are stains on his sweatpants and they’re definitely the same ones he was wearing yesterday.

  “Come on,” I say, holding my hand out. “Come with me.”

  He looks up at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

  “No.”

  “Yes. Come with me Sylas,” I say, making my voice a little softer.

  He looks up at me and I can see he’s on the verge of breaking again. But he puts his hand in mine and gets to his feet again.

  “Let’s go.”

  I should probably have let him change out of his nasty sweats, but I want to get him out of the apartment. He needs to get out of this cave he’s locked himself in. We both need to get out.

  Sylas gets in the car and buckles his seatbelt without me having to ask him to do it.

  “Where are we going?” he asks.

  “It’s a surprise,” I say, turning the radio on. “You can pick the station if you want.” He flips around and finally lands on the classic rock station that was on when I turned on the radio. Figures. We’re both creatures of habit when it comes to music.

  “Why are we at my apartment?” he asks as I pull into an empty space just down the street from his old apartment. I think of it as his old apartment, because he’s been staying with me. We never officially declared that we were moving in together, but we basically have been.

  I turn the car off and then get out. I meet him on the other side of the car and take his hand.

  “Let’s go for a walk.” I tug him away from the front of the building and toward the private garden down the street. I know he comes here when he needs to think. It’s like his sanctuary and it seems like the place where he’d be the most calm.

  We stop in front of the gate and he realizes what we’re doing. The tiniest of smiles makes his lips twitch.

  “How did you know?” he says in a voice so quiet, it’s almost carried away by the breeze.

  “Because I love you,” I say, and start pulling myself up. The people who designed the fence made it easy as hell to climb. There are foothold and places to grip everywhere in the form of decorative leaves and vines. I get to the top and look down. He’s watching me.

  “You coming?”

  “Right behind you,” he says and I drop down to the other side. Moments later he drops and then stands up.

  The sun is just setting, bathing the garden in fiery light. The leaves on the trees are lit up and sparkling as the wind moves them.

  “Take your shoes off,” he says, leaning down to take off the sneakers he slipped on before we left the house. I’ve still got my heels on from going out with Lo, and I’m more than happy to slip them off. Like at the beach, we stash them near the gate and continue walking barefoot. The grass is cool and makes me shiver.

  “You need to talk to someone, Sylas. You really do. You haven’t been living lately,” I say. He sighs and looks up at the sky that’s painted with so many different colors.

  “I know. I don’t know what to do with my life anymore. I feel like I’m starting over and that scares me. I’m so fucking scared, Saige.” His words break my heart, but I’m so glad he’s talking to me. So glad he’s not hiding anymore. That he trusts me enough to share these things.

  “You can do whatever you want, Sylas. Whatever you want and I’ll support you. If you want to sit around and paint clouds, if you want to flip burgers, if you want to restore vintage bicycles. I don’t care. The world is your oyster, to use a cliché.” He’s got an opportunity, but it’s a terrifying one.

  He chuckles a little at my suggestions.

  “It’s not that simple. I have the guys. I can’t abandon them, not now especially. Your father has something on all of us that he’s using to keep them working for him.” I know that and it doesn’t make me happy.

  “I know. I would love to say I could talk to him and convince him to let it go, but that’s not going to happen. My father is a determined man, and he gets what he wants.” I love him, more than anything, but I don’t always like the things he does.

  “I know.”

  “What does he have on you?” I ask. I assume it’s something he’s already told me, but I’m not sure what.

  “He says he’ll take Lizzy away from me,” he says after a pause.

  “No, he wouldn’t do that.” In all the times my father and I talked about Lizzy, it had always been with the assumption of Sylas being involved. He just wanted the chance to get to know her. Not take her from the only family she’s ever known. He never said that. Ever.

  “Yes, Saige. He would. I know you love him, but he’s done a lot of things that you don’t know about.” I stop walking and stare at him.

  “What are you talking about?” I know there are things Dad hasn’t told me about, but I didn’t know he’d shared them with Sylas. Or that Syla
s knew about them.

  “Nothing,” he says, closing his eyes. “Nothing.”

  “No way. You don’t tease me with information like that and then back off. That’s not fair, Sylas.” He tugs me toward a bench and we sit down. I’ve never seen anyone else in this garden and I wonder how many of the residents of the surrounding buildings actually utilize it.

  “I just know some things, Saige. Some of the people he’s killed.” This is not news to me. I know Dad has killed people. He turns to face me, taking both of my hands. It seems like one of us is always holding the other up.

  “They weren’t all bad. But some were innocents that had information that he needed. He… he tortured some of them, Saige. He did bad things to get what he wanted.” A block of ice enters my stomach and I want to ask if this is a joke. Or a dream. Or some figment of my imagination. My dad wouldn’t kill innocent people.

  And then I want to smack myself for being so incredibly naïve. Of course I think the best of my father. That’s why he hasn’t told me about the people he’s killed. It lets me make up my own conclusions and paint him in the best light in my mind. Make him a hero. He let me do it.

  “I wish I wasn’t the one to shatter your vision of him. I hate that I’m hurting you right now.” I swallow and look down at our linked hands. His, rough and big, with thick knuckles and short nails. Mine, thin and short with chipped black polish on my nails and little bits of charcoal left over from my class.

  “It’s okay. It’s my own fault. I should have known. I should have known.” I want to smack myself. How could I let myself be so stupid?

  “I don’t want to know anything else,” I say. “I don’t want to know anything else about him.” I’ll deal with my father on my own terms. Or not. I have to admit, there’s an allure to just forgetting what Sylas just said and going forward. Not mentioning it again. Just pretending.

  I don’t know.

  “We are so fucked up, you and I,” I say and he laughs.

  “But together, we’re somehow not.”