She choked out a laugh, retrieving the tube from beneath the bed. The silence set heavy between them as she steadied herself,dabbing carefully at the revolting-looking wound beneath his eyes.
“I got married after you left,” she started, keeping her hands busy, lightly coating the abrasions on his face with the slick, slightly foul-smelling ointment. “I didn’t know what else to do. I felt trapped. I moved away from my home, from my family, from my whole community, because I couldn’t bear to be here without you. You were in every corner, everywhere I turned.”
“Silva—”
“No,shut up. I’m tired of hearing from you. Just shut up and see if you’re capable of listening for a change. I looked for you for two years, Tate. I did everything I could. I risked my life. I risked my marriage. I did things I don’t even want to admit to you. I would have kept looking for you forever.”
She broke off, her voice failing as she recalled that day in Spring, when she’d nearly lost Aelin in that golden-lit forest. Her tears nearly choked her, pausing until the moment passed.
“But I couldn’t. Because my little girl needed me more, and I couldn’t risk her life for yours anymore than I already had. So I had to put you away and put her first. But if she hadn’t been born, I’d probably still be looking.”
The loading of the dumpster at the back of the building was the only sound for several minutes. She found the stash of gauze pads on the table beside the bed, deciding the hole beneath his eye should remain covered. To his credit, Tate remained silent as she did so.
“And then she was there, and she was so perfect. She saved me from myself. She’s so sweet and clever, but she needs me for everything.Me. I’m all she has. Every day I have to wake up and brush my fucking teeth and not waste away, becausesheneeds me to make her breakfast and brush her hair and put on her shoes. It didn’t matter how sad I was or how much I missed you, becausesheneeded me more.”
Silva paused again. She had debated with herself over how she would tell him. Showing up on his doorstep with Aelin in tow would have done the trick. One look and he would know . . . but she wouldn’t do that to her daughter. Not until she knew what he was planning to do.
“But the timing didn’t make sense, and she didn’t look like my husband . . . doesn’t look like me, not really. They knew something wasn’t right.” She paused, eyes filling with tears again. “And she does things that I can’t explain. She doesn’t blink, and she talks totrees. . . Do you have any idea how hard it was knowing my little girl was growing up without a father who loved her? There was someone there, but not someone who cared. And every day I wished there was someone who would understand . . . but all she had was me. And I had to do what was best for her.”
Thatelicited an emotion she recognized. It wasn’t dissimilar to the way he’d looked that night at the club in Bridgeton, when she’d argued with her ex.Good. She’d captured his full attention now, the story he’d concocted in his head melting away. Silva wondered if the truth was harder for him to bear. His golden eyes were lit with misery.
“Ileftbecause I didn’t want her to grow up thinking that it was okay. I didn’t want her to grow up thinking she needed to make herself small and pretend to be someone she’s not. I’ve been doing it my whole life, and that’s not the life I want for her. So we came here until I could find somewhere for us to live, for her to have a real home. I’ve worn that fucking ring like a shackle every day so that I don’t lose it, because I have to give it back to him in our unbinding. So you’ll excuse me if I’m not really interested in hearing howhappy you arefor me. I’m not interested in hearing whatyouthink is best for me, Tate. You don’t get to make that choice.”
Silence overtook the apartment.
Outside, Greenbridge Glen was waking fully. The businesses didn’t see the same amount of traffic midweek as they did the weekend, and it wasn’t yet the high season.
“She looks so much like you . . .”
She thought of Aelin waking, back in Cambric Creek. She could pop into the little shop down the street and bring her home a jug of cider as a treat.
“Will you ever be able to forgive me, dove?”
There was something in his voice, an empty hollowness that told her he didn’t expect an answer, not truly. At least, not one in the affirmative. Tate looked as miserable as she’d been without him those first two endless years.Good.
“I left the night we went to that wedding. I had five days before my watch stopped ticking. And here you are, married and already left the poor bastard. Everyone told me you were a heartbreaker. I just didn’t listen.”
Silva choked out another laugh, using her sleeve to wipe her tears away.
“Does she know?” His voice had dropped, barely a whisper once more.
“She doesn’t know anything. That’s not her burden to bear. She knew Tannar wasn’t that interested in her . . . but he wasn’t that interested in me either, once she was born. So it wasn’t something that stood out. She hasn’t asked about him a single time since we left, and I’m glad for it.”
“Not interested.” His voice was a scrape of disbelief, pushing himself back up. “How could he not be fucking interested? What kind of fucking muppetisn’t interestedin his beautiful wife and child?Not interested.You’re not interested in a colonoscopy. I’m not particularly interested in the history of a dish sponge. The woman who gives you a child is the most interesting bleedin’ thing in the fuckin’ world. Where the fuck do you keep finding these worthless cunts, Silva?”
For a long moment, she could say nothing, her shoulders shaking in laughter.Where, indeed. She hadn’t laughed like this in five long years. The thought was sobering.
“How old is she?” His voice had gone quiet again.
“She’s just three.”
“Three years old.” His voice was wretched.
Silva knew what he was thinking. Three years of birthdays that he’d missed. Her first words. Her first steps. Her first scraped knee that he’d not been there to kiss. The first time a tree told her a mean story. Silva had no doubt that Tate would know the proper way to tell off a tree. An accumulation of small, sacred things, moments time had stolen, moments he’d not get back.
“Five days.” She captured his hand from where it was fisting the coverlet.
“Five fucking years.”
