“Tell me,” I say as I grab onto the opening he’s given me. “Tell me what you’ve done. Tell me everything.”
Reed bends down, his face vicious. “You wanna know, Fae? You wanna know what I’ve done and what my dad can do?”
“Yes.”
“All right. You think he pressed those charges against you because he was trying to punish you, don’t you? Because you stole his precious son’s car. Isn’t that correct, Fae? Isn’t that what you think?”
“Yeah,” I say, fear clutching my heart.
“He didn’t. He doesn’t give a fuck that you stole my car or that you tried to destroy his son’s property. He doesn’t give a fuck,” he snaps, looming even closer. “He doesn’t give a fuck about you. He doesn’t care who you are or what you did. He pressed those charges against you because he wanted to get to me. Because he wanted to punish me, not you. He wanted to punish me for years of defying him, for taunting him with soccer. For taunting him with my scholarship, with my inevitable career in the pros. Yeah, he doesn’t give a fuck about you, Fae.”
He takes a moment to grind his teeth. “When I told him that I wouldn’t do his bidding if he didn’t make all the charges disappear and set you free. He, in turn, told me that I had no leg to stand on. Because if I didn’t quit soccer and come work for him, you’d go to juvie and he’d make sure that you stayed buried in there. So he doesn’t care about you or your little family. All he cares about is me. His rebellious, disobedient son who fucking hates him. Controlling me, making me his bitch, making me do things that I don’t want to do. It’s fun for him. Do you understand that? It’s fun for him to toy with people. He’s done it all his life. Me, my sister, my mother. In business. So he was toying with you to get to me.”
I let him go then.
I unfurl my fingers from his hoodie and ask him with my heart beating in my ears, “And now that I’m pregnant?”
His nostrils flare. “He’ll use that too. He’ll use Halo. He’ll use Juilliard too, your dream, if he has to.”
“Against you.”
His response is a muscle on his cheek that comes to life and throbs.
“So…” I have to take a moment here to gather myself. “So you’ll do his bidding for the rest of your life?”
“Yes, if that’s what it takes to keep you safe. To keep Halo safe.”
That’s what he’s been doing for the past two years. That’s what he’ll keep doing.
I fist my hands. “What about Pete?”
“What about him?”
“Are you going to take his garage from him and give it to your dad?”
His features ripple and I know, I know, that it’s pain.
He’s hurting at the thought of harming Pete. His one and only friend, the man who’s been more of a father to Reed than his own.
“He’ll get over it,” Reed says, trying to sound nonchalant, but his rigid body gives him away.
“Will you?”
“What?”
“Will you get over it, Roman? For screwing over your friend. The friend that you love.”
At this, his features scrunch up and he plows his fingers through his hair as he scoffs. “Jesus Christ, you don’t give up, do you? Why does everything have to be love? I don’t love anything. I don’t have time to love anything. My life is already plenty screwed up without it, you understand? So yeah, I’ll get over it. I got over hurting you, didn’t I?”
No, he didn’t.
He hasn’t.
He still apologizes to me. He still feels bad about what he did two years ago.
The other day he bought me daisies. Both flowers and dresses with daisies printed on them. Because I told him that I’d buried all the dresses from two years ago somewhere deep in my closet so I never look at them. Because they remind me of him.
And then I told him that I missed sitting in his Mustang with him, listening to music with the windows down and our eyes closed. So he recreated that whole moment last weekend in our driveway.
He even apologizes for the things that weren’t his fault to begin with.
Like getting me pregnant.
It takes two people to do that, doesn’t it?
But he doesn’t care.
He isn’t over that either. He shows it to me every single day by pampering me like I’m the most precious treasure in the world. Like I’m the first girl to get pregnant. Ever.
Like I’m a wonder. His wonder.
You’re a wonder…
“And what about you?” I ask, sounding all calm when I want to shake him and make him understand that he can’t live like this.
He can’t keep hurting people he cares about because his father is a villain.
“What about me?”
“Don’t you see? You love cars, Roman. You love them. You have a passion for them. I watched you yesterday. You were so happy. Working at that garage gives you joy. It gives you peace and it sets your soul on fire. That’s your dream, Roman. That garage is your dream. Like ballet is mine. Don’t you deserve at least a shot at it? At your dream.”
His chest moves with a violent breath as he snaps, “Fuck dreams. I don’t care about dreams. I don’t want any dreams. Do you think I’m any better than my father, Fae, huh? I did the same thing he did, didn’t I? I used you. I took advantage of you. I lied to you. I broke promises to you. And you’re not the only one. I’ve used people. I’ve used Ledger, his anger, against him. I’ve cheated just to win at soccer. I’ve lied to people to get my way. I’ve blackmailed them. I’m my father’s son. Everything I’ve learned, I’ve learned from him. What makes you think I deserve my dreams? Or a happy ending of any sort?”
Because he’s regretful.
Because he has remorse. Because he wants to do better.
That’s the difference between him and his father, the true villain.
My Roman wants to be better.
“And if that’s the price to pay to keep you safe, to keep Halo safe, I’ll do it. I’ll keep working for my dad. I’ll keep doing what he asks me to do. I told you that, didn’t I? I told you that I’ll destroy anything and anyone if it means you’re safe. And I’m not going to apologize for it.”
Yeah, that’s what he said.
He said that he’ll destroy the world, burn it down to protect me. To protect Halo.
But he’s not burning down the world, is he? He’s not destroying someone else.
He’s destroying himself.
He’s hell-bent on destroying himself because he wants to keep me safe.
Because that’s what will happen if he screws over Pete.
And suddenly, I have to ask him.
I have to ask what Pete told me to yesterday. It confused me then but somehow things are clear.
Things are so clear and vivid and my heart can’t stop spinning in my chest.
I look up at him, into his wolf eyes that are watching me defiantly, agitatedly. “What do you…” I swallow, trying to steady my voice, my breaths. “What do you keep in the trunk of your Mustang?”