When I don’t say anything, April sighs. “Sid says if you’re feeling up to it, he’d like to talk to you. He said I should tell you he talked to Carlos.”
Oh great. He knows.
I push the blanket back and head out. He must hear me, because at the sound of the door shutting, the one that leads into his room pops open. The narrow door frame barely contains the bulk of him, and I’m reminded of the day we met. Fearing him was a very,verylogical reaction.
“Hey,” he says.
“Duck pond?”
“Started raining an hour ago. We can talk in the kitchen.” He moves toward the front door, but I don’t follow. He turns back toward me with a wan smile. “It will be empty. The guys know we need to talk.”
“Do they know why?”
“Carlos does. So we should probably assume they all do, too,” says Sid. “I told him not to mention it to April so that you can decide how to break the news and—Kayla, I’m so sorry.”
His voice quakes like he’s about to come apart right in front of me. I don’t know how I want April to find out about his history, but this isn’t it.
“Fine. Kitchen, then.” I stride past him, not meeting his eye. He’s not the only one at risk of falling to pieces right now.
The kitchen is warm with the smell of tomato sauce, though the surfaces have been scrubbed clean. The stove is still hot, with a pot of mint tea simmering on the burner. Sid offers me a cup and I say yes, if only because mint is good for upset stomachs. All the physical trappings ofcomfort are here, but as Sid passes me a mug, I’m careful not to let my knuckles brush against his. Yesterday, I kissed this man. Not out of desire, obviously, but I felt safe enough to do it. Now, I sit at the far end of the table, putting as much distance between us as I can.
Neither of us wants to start the conversation, so we sit in silence for a long time, watching steam curl up from tea that’s too hot to touch. As far as I’m concerned, this story isn’t mine to tell, so I wait for him to work up the nerve. Even now, he’s putting this off.
Finally, he takes a deep breath. “You didn’t deserve to find out this way.”
No. I really didn’t. If there’s any reason to feel justified in my anger right now, that’s the one. I wonder how long it would have taken him to spit it out if Carlos hadn’t blown things up. He made overtures when he mentioned James knowing how to sail a boat. There have been enough hints that I sort of believe he was going to tell me. But damn, it sure would have been nice to know before I married him.
My eyes flick up from my mug. His pale face is splotched with red, as if he’s been in tears himself. When our gaze meets, his shoulders hunch and the impossible seems true. He’s afraid ofme. I’m not sure what to do with that power. Some part of me does want to hurt him, because right now, I’m not seeing the friend I thought I trusted. I’m seeingthem. I didn’t realize how much I wanted revenge for everything TNS took from me.
“Carlos is sorry too,” he says, when I don’t speak. “He feels guilty as shit. But that’s my fault, obviously.”
I blow into my tea, holding Sid’s gaze with mine. “So, TNS. Is that why you couldn’t get a respectable woman to marry you?”
His eyes fall from my face. “No one ever comes out and says it, but…”
“But no one wants to marry a murderer, either?” I’m probing, hoping to find out just what I’m dealing with. How deep in with them was he before he got out? “And now you want to get into government. No wonder you needed an image update.”
“I meant to tell you, when we decided to do this. When you said you’d marry me, I knew I should say something, but I was so stunned you said yes, I totally forgot—”
“Scared. Don’t sugarcoat it. You were scared.”
“Scared shitless. I’m sorry, Kayla. I’ve never been a brave man. A violent one, sometimes. Never a brave one.”
That’s not true. Even in the short time I’ve known him, I’ve seen him choose the harder option because he knows it’s the right one. But even good people have their limits, I guess. Now that I know what his is, does that change my decision?
“I won’t blame you if you decide to leave,” he says. Our minds must have wandered to the same place. “I’d like to think I can still help you and April out, but if it’s—if I’m not someone you feel safe around—”
“I never feel safe, Sid.” Now I’m the one who’s lying, because for a moment, I did. As ever, I should have trusted my gut. “It’s all practical for me. I still need you, so… I’m still in.”
“Me too. I’m in as long as you need me.”
It’s tempting to let that be the end of the conversation. We’re on the same page, so maybe I can justify making an escape. But then I think of what Carlos told me.They saved our lives. I don’t doubt that’s true. Why can’t I make myself believe it?
I shouldn’t be afraid of him. The man in front of me has more in common with a crumpled handkerchief than a bloodthirsty killer. But the way he talks about himself shows that on some level, he still believes it, too.Violent. Unsafe. If he believes it, I’m not crazy for worrying.
I feel sick at the thought. Using his own self-doubt to justify my fear of him is downright cruel. The night we agreed to get married, I said some awful things about how maybe the governmentshouldtake April away if I couldn’t care for her. He never agreed. Not a single time. He never let me buy into the worst version of myself. If I were a better friend, I would argue on his behalf in the same way.
I wish I could.
