Another knock at me, as if to say that I wasn’t good enough in bed to worm all of Rogan’s secrets out of him. To hear this man, this disgusting monster of a man, degrade the beauty of what we shared makes me crazy.
“Why don’t you just get to the point?” I snap. “And why is it, exactly, that you think I’d care about helping Rogan?”
“It’s obvious you have strong feelings for him and he for you. Since you’re the problem, I knew you could be the solution as well. You see, if he continues moping around and postponing his fights, if he continues putting all his time and resources into investigating my son on your behalf, he’s liable to run into some very . . . significant and unexpected health problems. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
A threat. A viable threat. I of all people know how dangerous dealing with the Sims family can be.
“Yes, I understand.” My voice is cool. Hard even.
“Then you understand that if Rogan isn’t able to fight, he won’t be a benefit to me at all. I need a hearty-and-hale Rogan. Otherwise he and his brother will no longer be any of my concern. Nor will they be under my protection.”
My stomach lurches at the thought of what kind of atrocities this man is capable of.
“What do you expect me to do about any of this?”
“Well, if you care about Rogan, you’ll help me to get him back on track.”
“And how do you propose that I do that?”
“By removing yourself, and the hope of you, from his life.”
“I’m already removed from his life.”
“Not as much as you could be.”
I don’t know how I could be any farther from him, physically or emotionally. I feel the loss of him, the absence of him every day. I’m definitely removed from him. And he from me.
“How do I go about that, then? How do I remove the hope of me from his life?”
“You get back together with my son.”
This time, I think my heart really does skip a few beats. I have the sudden urge to wrap my arms around myself and hold on tight to keep myself together. To keep myself from falling into a thousand tiny pieces.
“What? Have you lost your mind?”
“No, it’s quite genius actually. And this will be only a public reconciliation, not a private one. I just want to give Rogan reason to move on, maybe even fight harder. In addition, this will provide my son with some . . . insurance, if you will. Just to make sure you can never try to bring your . . . unfortunate accident to a place that could hurt him. And neither could Rogan. No one would believe you if you decided to make an issue of what happened. Not after you’re seen dating again. I mean, what kind of sick individual would date a man who set her on fire?”
I’m not convinced of his logic. Many abused women reconcile with their abusers, but I think he’s right in that it would make it much less believable if I ever tried to tell the truth about Calvin. I mean, he set me on fire! I would have to be pretty sick to ever willingly put myself in his company again. Pretty sick or desperately in love with someone I’m trying to protect.
“So this isn’t as much about Rogan as it is about protecting your precious son.”
“Oh no. It’s about both. Don’t be confused on that point. Rogan is a champion. He’s making me a great deal of money. But just like most wild animals, he needs a leash. And I’m not sure his brother’s fate is enough to keep him in check anymore. Not since you. So I’m giving him reason to move on. To let it go. To let you go, so that things can return to normal.”
I try to swallow, but my mouth is bone dry. This feels so wrong, so screwed up, but I just don’t see a way out. Now I know how Rogan felt. My hands are tied. Unless I give him over to this ruthless man, something I would never do. “Wh-what do you want me to do, specifically?”
“I want you to meet with Calvin, take a few happy, candid photos, have a nice dinner. Spread the word that you two have reconciled. Really sell it. And that should be it. Other than keeping your mouth shut about all this, of course.”
Of course. There’s always that. My eternal silence in exchange for his despicable help.
But his help is needed. He holds all the cards. Rogan isn’t protecting himself. He’s protecting Kurt. But who’s protecting Rogan?
I might be the only one who can. I’m not sure this is the best way to do it, but agreeing with him will at least give me some time to think.
“So you’re saying that if I do this Rogan will be safe? That once he sees these pictures, he’ll move on and fight for you and all will be well? You’ll keep Kurt’s secret and keep Rogan safe?”
Even to my ears, it sounds ridiculous. Almost too simple. Just a few pictures and lies to ensure Rogan’s safety and the protection of their secret.
Only it’s not just a few pictures and lies. It’s me. With Calvin. Even if it’s just pretend, it’s Calvin. Calvin.
“I believe he will, yes. When he sees that you and Calvin are back together, he’ll move on. He won’t risk hurting you by hurting Calvin. And most likely, when he fights, he’ll be out for blood. Anyone’s blood. And fights like that make a lot of money.”
“I think you might be overestimating how Rogan feels about me. Did you ever consider that when planning your diabolical extortion?”
“Don’t be silly. That boy loves you. Unfortunately for him, it’s just not convenient for me.”
That boy loves you.
My heart soars. Right before it takes a nosedive.
The small kernel of hope that took root is dashed as quickly as it sprung up. It never really had a chance of survival anyway. Although I now understand why Rogan’s hands were tied, this doesn’t change anything. It’s not like we can be together just because I know what he was hiding. If I do this to help him, he’ll think I’m back together with Calvin. That will destroy any chance we could ever have had. But if I don’t do it, Rogan himself could be destroyed. It’s a lose-lose situation for me.
But not for Rogan.
Not for the man who I fell in love with. Not for the man who held me so tenderly and kissed my scars so sweetly. Not for the man who has given so much for the people he loves.
I have the power to help him and his brother.
If I’m tough enough to go through with it.
As I consider the Senator’s words, I think of letting Calvin back into my life, even in this controlled way on a temporary basis. The thought makes my physically ill. My belly roils with nausea and remembered fear. My skin feels cold and clammy, and my hand shakes where I hold the phone to my ear.
Let Calvin back in. When I practically had a panic attack just seeing him after Rogan’s fight. How can I do that? How can I stand to be near him? How could I smile pretty for a camera like I’m not shriveling on the inside just being in the same room with him? How could I do that? When he took so much from me—everything, in fact—how could I do that?
I fold over so that blood can rush to my dizzy brain. I squeeze my eyes shut like maybe when I open them, I’ll be somewhere else. Maybe someone else.
But then I see twinkling green eyes and a lopsided grin. They pop into my mind as if by answer.
How could I do that?
Rogan.
That’s how I could do it. For those eyes, for that smile, for that man, I would do almost anything. But does that include this?
“My offer is not without its time restrictions, you understand,” the Senator says when I suppose I’ve been silent for too long, drowning in the idea of a misery I’m not sure I can face.
“I . . . I just . . .” I’m finding it hard to breathe even considering this. It’s as though the fire of my past is consuming all the oxygen from the room of my present, leaving me no air. Saliva pours into my mouth and my chin trembles with emotion. But despite my body’s reaction, my heart remembers only one thing. Rogan. I can do it for Rogan.