This is why Papa remains cold to Sunny, Cobain, and even Anika. I would wager anything that the child will have him wrapped around her finger by tomorrow. Anika is a ray of sunshine when she forgets about that cult nonsense and just follows her little heart.
I decide to follow mine by searching for Cobain when Papa goes looking for Mama in the main room.
Entering the security room at the rear of the house, I admire the view of Cobain’s broad back and shoulders straining against his black sweater. His thick hair hangs loose, inspiring me to run my fingers through it.
Rather than touch him, I ask, “Are we safe here?”
Cobain doesn’t turn around quickly. He merely glances over his shoulder and unleashes his dark gaze on me.
“We’ll survive the night.”
Turning around finally, he crosses his arms and leans against a desk as sleek as his black hair.
“I’ve fallen in love with you,” I admit.
“I don’t care.”
His apathetic tone startles me, but I immediately ask, “Because you don’t love me or because you’re a cruel man?”
“Why can’t it be both?”
His words shouldn’t bother me. I’m aware Cobain trusts no one. His heart might not be capable of love after so long alone. I still let myself hope. He left his safe house, remained with us, and craved my attention. Call me naïve, but I assumed even if he didn’t love me that he at least cared.
When my teary eyes offend him, he grumbles, “Fine, I love you. Now, stop.”
“Are you saying that because your heart demands it or because you don’t want me to cry?”
“Why can’t it be both?”
Wiping the tear on my cheek, I sigh. “I thought I was in control of my heart. That first night with you, I didn’t believe it could be more. Then you tempted me to think bigger.”
“I didn’t do shit.”
“It was all you,” I growl and then add weakly, “I did nothing.”
Cobain wants to smile at my dramatics. Except he’s angry at my father for wanting to ditch him, and me for loving him, and the world for refusing to bow to his will.
“Should I not love you?” I ask, resting my back against the door. “Should I prepare for you to leave me after all this is over?”
“Can you turn on and off your feelings so easily?”
“No, but I can harden my heart so it won’t hurt as much when you leave me.”
“Why am I the one leaving?” he demands. Taking a breath, he asks through gritted teeth, “Isn’t it more logical for a young woman like you to leave me once she’s back in the luxuries of her home country? Don’t put this on me.”
Cobain’s anger tells me that he’s afraid. I’m offering him the comforts that life denied him, but his heart believes I’ll discard him as so many people have done before.
“Years ago, when I first started dating, Papa didn’t adjust well to that reality. He stalked me during my dates, hounded the men, and even threatened them. Insane behavior, to be sure, but I never thought less of him for wanting to protect me,” I say and then close my eyes because I can’t bear to look at Cobain’s cold dark ones.
“But when I thought Papa would kill you, I didn’t know if I could ever love him in the same way if he pulled the trigger. You’ve taken ownership of a part of my heart. While I don’t know if you have any interest in keeping it, it’s yours now.”
Opening my eyes, I find Cobain frowning as if I’m a hysterical wench that he must flee.
“If you can’t love me,” I say in a steady voice, “you can still find peace in Nicaragua. This country offers you nothing. Once there, you and I can be friends.”
“While you fuck other men?”
“And you fuck other women!” I yell with far too much anger. “If you think I won’t kill them, then you don’t know me at all.”
Cobain moves across the room and invades my space. “I can never trust you.”
“I know.”
“I trust no one.”
“I understand.”
“My own mother turned me into a weapon. No one has ever cared if I lived or died, and I refuse to believe you’re any different.”
When he falls silent, I ask, “And?”
“And I said I love you, so back off and stop nagging me.” Though I shouldn’t giggle, he sounds so childish. “You laugh when I tell you I love you. Typical woman.”
“No, I laugh at how you think this is nagging. The night I knocked at your door for ten minutes, well, now that was nagging. This is me being honest.”
“Women lie,” he sneers.
“So do men.”
“Not like women.”
“Just because the people who lied to you the most happened to be women doesn’t mean they lie more than men. The problem is when you look at me, you see your mother and Priscilla and the others who’ve wronged you.”
“I don’t see them when I look at you,” he snarls and turns away. “That’s the real problem. I let myself believe you’re different.” With his back to me, he begins speaking in a higher, mocking voice, “Neri doesn’t play games. She tells the truth. She isn’t using me.” Cobain glares back at me. “All lies.”
“Certainly, some of those are lies. Of course, I play games and lie. I’m a human being. But when you wanted to stay at the safe house, I didn’t trick you into following. As much as I wanted you to live, I refused to guilt you into living. But then you did choose to live, and now I own you. We decided that already. Did you forget?”
Cobain refuses to smile, but I see amusement in his dark eyes. “This is all a joke.”
“No, my heart is in your hands. There’s nothing funny about how much you could hurt me.”
“I’m more worried about you hurting me.”
“Because you love me?” I ask, stepping closer and giving him a knowing smile. “Do you worship me, Cobain?”
“I need you to worship me.”
“Well, I can’t right now. My father could kick open the door and find us. I’ll have to worship you later when they’re asleep.”
Cobain finally allows a smile. “You’ve trapped me much like a spider traps foolish flies in her enchanting web.”
“Then I’ll gobble you up,” I say, poking his hard stomach. “But slowly, over many decades, savoring all you have to offer first.”
“Decades, huh?”
“I’d say fifty years, but I don’t know how old you are. Is that even possible?”
“I’m thirty-nine, you nutty twat.”
“Stop flirting. Papa is down the hall,” I tease, wrapping him in my arms. “I will take such lovely care of you, Cobain, if only you’ll let me.”
“I don’t need to be taken care of.”
“No, but wouldn’t it be fun to have a woman pamper you?”
Cobain wraps his arms around me. “I hate your father, and I will never trust you.”
“I love my father, and I don’t need you to trust me. Just love me, and I’ll love you.”
“Until you don’t.”