I don’t miss the slight clench of his jaw or the flickering of something in his eyes. Is it guilt or annoyance? I can’t tell. He’s too good at hiding his emotions.
“That’ll pass,” he says, and continues forward.
I can’t help it—a small sound that’s a half whimper, half plea, escapes my throat. The noise makes him pause and his eyes narrow, almost confused.
“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, but the words ring hollow.
“If that’s true then let me go,” I manage to force the words out, my voice hoarse and cracked. “I won’t tell anyone what I saw. Not a soul. I promise. I’ll even swear on the Bible.”
Darkness flashes across his face—brief, but deep enough to make my pulse stutter—as if something he’s been holding back finally slips through. “Can’t do that.”
“What? Why not? I won’t tell. I promise. You can trust me. Please, Calder, just let me go home. I want to go home.” I’m not above begging if that’s what it takes.
“Home?” His harsh laugh is humorless. “Do you think this is a joke? A game?”
“Of course not?—-”
“You can’t go home, Saint. You try to go home and you’re dead. My father will kill you himself, and he won’t even bat an eye.”
The casual way he says it, like my death is inevitable, a mere matter of who and when, sends cold dread slithering down my spine.
“Then… then what… ?” My voice breaks. “What are you going to do with me? Why am I here?”
Sighing, he drags a hand through his dark hair and I catch a glimpse of the man beneath the mask. Worry and frustration are etched into the lines of his face. “I’m still figuring that part out.”
“Figuring it out?” Hysteria bubbles up in my chest. “What does that mean?” I need an answer before I explode. “Please tell me.”
He doesn’t tell me though. All I get is a head shake in response. That’s not good enough for me. I want to know what the hell is going to happen next. I’ve been sitting here all day. Consumed with fear. I have a right to know what’s going to happen.
“Tell me what that means!”
“Goddammit.” Calder snaps. “You’re acting like I wanted this to happen. Like I fucking planned for you to open that door.”
Tears burn at the corners of my eyes. I’ve never seen him angry like this, never experienced his wrath. How could I when I don’t even know him? “I was trying to help someone!”
“Hows that going for you?” His voice drops low, rough, each word dragged out like he wants me to feel the weight of it. Moving closer he looms over the bed, his size and presence is overwhelming in the small space. The muscles in his jaw clench, lips curling back just enough to show the anger simmering there. His eyes—dark, unblinking—pin me down harder than his shadow. “This should prove as an example to you, to mind your own business. If you would’ve stayed inside, where you weresafe, you wouldn’t be here right now.” His mouth twists on the wordsafe, like it’s poison. A humorless smile ghosts his lips, then vanishes as if it was never there. “But you didn’t. You had to do what you always do.Help. Care.Be your overly good fucking self!”
How dare he act like my compassion is a character flaw, like trying to help someone is a sin.How dare he!Anger cuts through my fear, hot and bright, making me volatile, and braver than I really am.
“I’m sorry if my good nature offends you—” the words tear out of me in a growl as I wrench against the handcuff, the steel biting into my wrist, “—that I wanted to save someone’s life. That I couldn’t stand there and watch a man bleed out on my porch. Not all of us are heartless monsters like you.”
Calder’s lip curls into a mocking smile. “Finally. I was worried you might still see me as the hero. Happy to see that kiss didn’t go to your head.”
I can’t believe I ever thought there was anything good inside him. That I even cared about him. That I gave him my first kiss.
My throat tightens, but the words tumble out anyway. “Kissing you was the biggest mistake I ever made and I’ve regretted it every single day since.”
My chest aches as the lie burns through me. I swear he flinches as if my words have the power to hurt him. I was naive to think that there was something good inside him. That maybe he was worth going against everything I was raised to believe.
“If you’re trying to hurt my feelings you’ll have to try harder.”
“Why didn’t you just kill me? You had the chance. Why cause all this trouble for yourself?”
The change is immediate. His shoulders tense beneath his shirt, and a vein stands out in his neck, pulsing with the effort to stay controlled. Right now, he looks less like the untouchable monster my father painted him as and more like a man corneredby his own truth. He curls his hands into fists at his sides, the knuckles straining white.
“I don’t have an answer for you.”
“Well, I want one.”
