“Are you sure?” Her wide blue eyes grow concerned and I pat her on the arm.
“Absolutely. Do you, um, want to watch a movie or something?” At least then I won’t have to talk. I mean, I do want to know about Lizzy, but I’m not really ready yet. Dad just told me about her a few weeks ago. I didn’t speak to him for a few days because of it. I mean, who does that? Who keeps a secret like that for my whole life? Lizzy and I are only a year and a half apart. How different my life might have been if I had known she existed sooner.
“Uh-huh,” she says and I go to the cabinet that holds my old television and show her where the DVD boxes are. I don’t care what she picks, but she surprises me by choosing Pretty in Pink. I had a hardcore John Hughes obsession a few years ago and bought anything and everything that he was even somehow involved in.
“Have you seen this before?” I ask her as we pull some of the squishy tufted chairs in front of the television so we can sit on them.
“Lotsa times,” she says, nodding and getting cozy in one of the chairs, pulling her feet up and cuddling into a ball.
“Cool, me too,” I say, sitting down beside her. The movie starts and I keep the volume low and my ear trained down the hall and into the room where Sylas and Dad are. I’ve angled the chair so if I have to jump up and head for the door to pull them off each other, I won’t trip over something if I have to rush.
A few times I get up and peek my head out the door, but I don’t hear anything from downstairs. That means they’re either talking it out in civil tones, or one or both of them is dead. I really hope it’s the former and not the latter. It would be a lot of work to get blood out of the carpet.
Lizzy is fully engrossed in the movie, except for one instance where she turns to me and smiles.
“You’re my favorite new sister.” Hopefully I’m her only new sister, but it’s still nice to hear. I have the feeling Lizzy likes everyone, but still.
“That’s a nice thing to say.”
I wonder what Dad is telling Sylas. If he’s telling him that his mother, Marina, and my dad were lovers. Childhood sweethearts, but proof that love just isn’t enough and can’t conquer all. They both married other people, but carried a torch for each other for years.
Maybe he’ll tell Sylas that one night his mother called my father. Asked him to come over. And that Lizzy is a direct result of that night.
I was angry with him at first. I’m not now. I can’t begrudge him his little pinpricks of happiness. My mother has made him so unhappy. Made both of us so unhappy with her bitter poison. I always asked myself why he stayed with her. It wasn’t just for me. It definitely wasn’t because he loved her. I’m not sure he even knows or could explain.
Dying of curiosity, I get up and creep out of the room. Lizzy is too engrossed in the movie to notice as I slip out and down the stairs. I’ve mastered the art of walking softly and quickly. That’s another skill Dad taught me.
I make my way to the door and hear Dad say, “No. I’m not a criminal. But I’m a pretty good actor, aren’t I?” and then Sylas saying, “I can’t breathe.”
Forgetting about being stealthy, I rush forward, throwing myself in front of Sylas. Grabbing his face in my hands, I stare deep into his dark blue eyes.
“Breathe with me, Sylas. In and out,” I say, keeping my voice steady as my dad backs quietly out of the room. Sylas blinks at me a few times and then finally takes a deep breath. I think this is a panic attack and not something more serious that could kill him.
His inhale is shaky at first, and then more steady. I recognize the moment when he finally snaps back into himself. I’m sure he’s probably had panic attacks before. I know he has migraines from stress.
“There you are,” I say. I realize I’m holding him in an intimate way that I probably shouldn’t be doing, especially where my dad might see. But before I can release him from my grasp, he scrambles away from me, his expression turning to one of stark anger.
“Sylas, it’s okay,” I say, still reaching for him. It’s too late. He’s already gone.
“Get away from me,” he spits out at me, stumbling over the chair in his haste to get some distance between us. I’d love to say his words don’t hurt, but then I’d be a liar. Well, more of a liar.
“It’s not what you think,” I say, as if it matters. It doesn’t matter. Nothing I can ever say will change how he’s looking at me right now. Nothing I can do either. We crossed the bridge and burned it behind us. No going back.
“You played me. The whole time you fucking played me.” I can’t help the laugh that escapes my mouth. My hurt is bleeding into a little bit of my own anger.
“Would you like to play the part of the pot or the kettle calling me black, Quinn.” I hate his fake name. Hated using it. So wrong. So not him.
His mouth twists into a bitter smile.
“We played each other. So it all turned out fair in the end, didn’t it?” Basically.
He licks his lips and looks out the door. “Where’s Lizzy?”
“She’s up in my room.” I’m sure Dad’s with her now. Sylas jabs his finger at me, but won’t come any closer.
“You had no fucking right to take her. No. Right.” I’m about to say something else, but I don’t get a chance, because he crosses the space between us and seizes my arms, holding me tight enough to hurt.
“Why?” he says, his voice shaking with emotion. “Why did you do it?” The pain in my arms is minimal, but it doesn’t feel good. And having him this close to me makes me want to do terrible things, like kiss him and fuck him.
“Let go of me and I’ll tell you. Bastard. All I need to do is bring my knee up between your legs and you’ll never be able to use your dick again.”
He squeezes me a bit and then lets go.
“Why did you do it, Saige?” He’s not asking about Lizzy anymore. If I’m not careful, he’s going to see how I feel. I take a step away from him and arrange my face into a smile.
“I did it because my father asked me to. And because I wanted to. It was fun.” He doesn’t know why it was fun and I’m definitely going to keep that as my little secret.
He seems surprised, which in turn surprises me. It’s easy to see how much he enjoys everything he does. I could feel the rush he got whenever he lied to my face about something.
“Oh, come on Sylas. You know you did too. I could see it in your eyes. You love it. That’s why you do it. Why you make a whole persona and live it. Why you have a fake apartment and wear different clothes and all the rest. You love being someone else.” Like recognizes like, which is one of the reasons we get along so well.
He’s trying to resist admitting it. I step closer to him and put my finger on his chest. He twitches ever so slightly.
“Admit it,” I say, looking up at him again. “Admit that you love it.”
“Never,” he growls. “I did it because I had to.” Lie. It’s such a lie.
I take another step closer until our chests are almost touching.
I open my mouth to say something else when Lizzy bursts into the room.
Two
Sylas steps away from me as if I’m on fire and then his focus is totally on Lizzy. The love that shines out of him for her is palpable. And she returns it tenfold.
“This house is awesome. It’s so big!” she says to him, skipping over, totally oblivious to the tension she’s just walked into. It’s good she came in when she did, or else things might have started getting blurry with Sylas again. I have no idea where Dad went, but I should probably find him.
Lizzy holds up her wrist for Sylas to see and she’s got another charm on her bracelet. An M for Marina, her mother’s name.
“Look what the man gave me!” Sylas’ eyes narrow and then flick to my wrist, where I have a nearly identical bracelet, but with an S on it. I don’t have a charm for my mother.