“Remember when you carved this? You said well it’s there now so why don’t we see how it ages,” I mock his deep voice. “I guess it didn’t age too well did it?” I say quietly, tracing my fingertips over the old carving in the magnolia’s trunk.
“It’s endured some wear and tear, yeah,” he finally says on a sigh, sounding tired. I turn to face him. He’s beautiful here in the moonlight, the breeze off the bayou lifting his wavy brown hair off his forehead. “Been through some storms—more than we know I’m sure, but it’s still standing, still rooted, it’s still right here, though I don’t know exactly how,” he says looking me squarely in the eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt at the same moment he asks, “What happened?”
I look at him with a confused expression and shake my head. “With what?”
“Don’t play games with me, Rae. Aren’t we beyond that now? Your momma already summarized it for me but I am beginning to think maybe she’s just trying to spare my feelings while covering your ass. What happened?”
Oh.
“It’s all in the past. I’m over it.” I reply, but the tears gathering on my lashes do nothing to corroborate my story.
“Yeah you look it,” he deadpans. “Tell. Me,” he demands again, stepping closer to me. I attempt to back away but he snags me around the waist and hauls me toward him.
“Look at me,” he orders.
“I—don’t…” I begin shakily.
“Tell me,” he insists. “Why’d I lose you?”
“You don’t want to know, and I don’t want to say,” I whimper shaking my head. “I know you think you want to know every little detail about what happened back then but Sy, I’ve spent years keeping it from you because it’s not pretty,” I warn. Sy’s features go from appearing irritated, even disgusted with me, to dread.
“Tell me. It’s bad. I know it’s gotta be bad. Just put me outta my misery, Rae.”
“That’s going to hurt.”
“I understand pain.”
“Yeah, well I do too, but I don’t think you’ll understand this. I don’t even understand it.”
“Try me. Please.” Minutes stretch out between us and I start to wonder if I should just run. Again.
“Please,” he repeats and the look on his face is crippling for me.
“I screwed up. I knew I did. I was so heartbroken when I broke up with you. For a whole week I cried myself into a coma. I realized I’d rather try to make it work with you no matter what than to be without you.” I press my palm to my chest, hoping my heart will stop racing.
“I went after… I—I went to talk to you a week after I ended it and I saw you with Brooklyn so I didn’t go through with it. I turned around and left. I got so mad and jealous.” I shake my head.
“You tried to come back to me?” He squints his eyes at me and his voice has softened. I nod and fight against the anxiety trying to unleash itself on me.
“And then—I—had to—work,” I go on between big gulps of air. “I was dumb—That night I went with a guy I knew—from work. I thought I wanted to get back at you. I just didn’t want to hurt. I was so stupid, and I didn’t want to go through with it after all and when things got out of hand, I asked him to stop—I begged and I tried to fight but—I—I couldn’t,” I whimper, even though I am trying my absolute best to tell him the truth as calmly as I can. Still, a torrent of tears begins pouring down my face. “He was too heavy and too drunk and he just wouldn’t stop,” I say, confessing my ugly truth that oozes the same misery I felt that night. “He got me pregnant,” I confess through a cracked voice. Sy gasps then wraps his arms around me and scoops me up in his arms, our bodies colliding violently. I cry in Sy’s shaking arms until I feel I can go on and tell the rest of the horrid story.
“I planned my abortion for my eighteenth birthday, alone. I hadn’t told a soul. I was afraid to. By the time I got to the clinic, I was torn about going through with it. It didn’t matter in the end, because the baby wasn’t there anymore. I felt like it knew I wished it away,” I hiccup as fresh tears trail down my face. “I couldn’t believe that had happened to me,” I sniffle. “I didn’t want to believe it or take responsibility for it. I wanted to blame everyone else. Including you.” My eyes feel as though they turn unseeing and dull. “I blamed myself and everyone else,” I say then finally stop talking to look up at Sy.
“You don’t want to say it or maybe you can’t,” he says, his voice breaking. “So I’ll say it for you. You blame me and every time my name comes across your mind or you lay eyes on my face you see his too,” he says so sadly that my heart breaks all over again. “And I don’t blame you one bit,” he adds, swallowing roughly.
“Sy, I did blame you back then,” I say feeling so ashamed. “I’ve been in therapy for a while and I’m making headway. I don’t blame you anymore. I don’t blame me anymore. I just want us back. I want you. I ran from you last time because Gene is right about my reputation harming BCF and I refuse to allow that, but I’ll honor our pact right now, if I’m still what you want. If we’re still what you want. Ask me again and I’ll say yes. I swear, we can try to figure out the rest,” I ramble on, pleading with him, searching his handsome face for cues. Tears of his own slip out of the corners of his eyes but he wipes them away fast. He sniffs then clears his throat as mine closes because I can feel the impact of his words before he even utters them.
“No.” Sy shakes his head with his lips pinched tightly together. “This is not what I wanted for you, for us. I’m so sorry, Rae,” he says on a whisper with his lips pressed to the top of my head. “Come on, I’ll follow you to make sure you get home okay,” he says, and I get the distinct feeling that for the very first time, Sylas Broussard doesn’t want to be near me at all, and he doesn’t want to be my Gabriel Oak. I can’t blame him. I said it all along and I tried warning him. I—we are tainted. Even so, I can’t seem to convince my heart to stop wanting him.
Chapter 33
Sylas
I didn’t want to believe Rae’s momma when she’d stressed to me the seriousness of the secret Rae was keeping from me, the one she swore Rae had kept from everyone, her included. Just as my mom had relayed to me.
I convinced myself that she was just trying to provide me with me something to blame for us not working out while at the same time giving Rae an excuse for the way she is. My gut knew something bad had happened. I saw the anxiety weighing her down. I saw the frayed nerves she walks around with. It was clear to me that she had some degree of PTSD. I saw that a mile off but never in a million fucking years would I have imagined… this. Maybe I didn’t want to think it could be as bad as it is. Maybe I thought Rae was untouchable. Maybe the idea of something so awful happening to someone then them going on to be so successful and outwardly strong, put together… that seemed unlikely at best. But it isn’t because that’s exactly the case with Rae.