37. June 19th

JUNE 19TH

Sylvan

When Sylvan woke,she could tell it was early in the morning. The sky outside her window was still dark, but she could see the beginnings of the blues and purples giving way to the reds and oranges.

Rolling over to get out of bed, she noticed TB's hulking frame in her desk chair. Something about it was off. It wasn't anything she could put her finger on, but she knew that something wasn't right.

She leaned up on one arm. "TB? Is everything okay?"

He didn't speak.

She felt her heart rate accelerate, like the time she'd had too many energy drinks as she was rushing to make a deadline in the wee hours of the morning. Just like then, her heart was pounding so loud she felt like she could hear it, and so fast that if she looked down at her chest, she knew she'd see it pushing at her skin to get out of her body. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and her stomach contents were in danger of rising up her throat.

Then she realized how she knew he was upset. He wasn't lounging in the chair. He was sitting straight up in it like it was an electric chair, and his hands curled around and grabbed the ends of the armrests.

"TB?" she tried again, softer this time.

"Who's Jolie?"

Well, sugar.

His voice was hard, and it felt like her eardrums were being pelted with gravel. "Who is Jolie?"

You decided you were going to tell him.

She sighed. "My past."

His jaw was clenched, and she could almost hear his teeth grinding. "I have a job to do. And that job requires getting people to talk. You've been holding out information about your stalker, about your past… including the tracks on your arms."

Her eyes blew wide, and she looked down at the undersides of her forearms. Instantly, she hugged them around her middle. She felt herself shrinking, trying to make herself invisible.

"I'm not a drug user," she whispered.

"Your arms say otherwise, princess. Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying! It's been a long time, and there hasn't really been a time to just throw that line of conversation out there. All you had to do was ask."

"Really? All I had to do? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I swear we asked you for information about your past, Flame. Two days ago. I seem to recall you tightened up so fast and used every trick you could to not lie but also not give up anything. Why? What could be so awful that you wouldn't want to say?"

"I… I wanted to tell you. I did. I panicked. I worried you'd hate me. Then, I got sick because I realized this was all my fault."

"You know who it is, don't you?"

She sank inside herself. "I started to suspect just before you came here, but I wasn't sure. When the phone call came, I couldn't ignore it anymore or pass things off as coincidence. So, yes," she admitted. "I know now."

"Why not say something last night? I'm trying to understand, but I've got to admit, it feels like you're protecting this shitheel."

"No! Never! I knew I needed to tell you, but I just needed a little more time."

"Time for what?"

"Time to figure out how to tell you. I don't want you to look at me differently."

"Flame"—he crouched down at the side of the bed—"just tell me. I know whatever it is will be bad. You don't need to sugarcoat it or edit your history. Short of you kidnapping the women yourself, I can't imagine what would make me look at you differently."

She hung her head. "You don't know. You can't possibly understand."

"You're right. I can't possibly understand until you tell me what's got you so tied up in knots." He sat on the edge of the bed, his body turned toward her while his feet remained planted on the floor. "Princess, I thought you trusted me to keep you safe? I can't do that when you keep secrets."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"So, tell me now. Who is this guy? Why do you think this is your fault?"

She couldn't look at him. Couldn't speak. It was all over. Not only that, but her refusal to open her mouth and tell TB what she knew could easily have gotten those women killed. Her continued silence was practically ensuring their deaths or worse.

Just spit it out! If it's over, it's over. Those women's lives aren't worth it.

He stood up from the bed and paced toward the door, his fingers running through his rumpled hair. When he turned back in her direction, his stare pierced her heart. "I need you to tell me what's going on, Flame. I'm hanging on to my temper by a thread. You can't hold any information to yourself anymore about your past. It's too risky. For you. For them. You've got to tell us what you know."

"I know you probably won't believe me, but I had already decided yesterday to share with you what I know, but I just… I wanted one more night with you where I was still clean in your mind. I've been so scared, TB. So scared I couldn't think straight. The only time I've felt safe is when I've been with you. You said, ‘No matter what, I've got you.' ‘My last breath,' you said. And I'm about to throw that all away because I was too selfish to speak up sooner. I would have been better off to tell you when it was just a suspicion. But part of me can't regret that I didn't because then I wouldn't have gotten to have you, even for just this little bit of time."

She admitted with defeat, "Yes, I was scared to share my past with you because doing so put me right back into the eye of the storm that my life was until six years ago. I've worked so hard to be at peace with my past. To accept it. To move on.

"But TB, you can't miss the irony in this situation. You make this big deal out of honesty, but you can't even be honest with yourself, let alone me. I thought you honestly felt something for me, even if you were reluctant to feel it. That you would want something with me bad enough to let go of your past and fight for it.

"Instead, I discover you don't want anything bad enough except to be the villain in your own story. You use your Total Bastard persona to destroy anything good that comes your way. It's safer to be apart from others because you don't have to feel. It's easier to be your nickname because it discourages people from getting close. Because wanting something, and wanting it badly enough, breaks down the lie you've been telling yourself most, if not all, of your life. You don't just use your anger and your pain to isolate yourself—you revel in it."

She got out of bed, the sheet wound around her like a shroud. Tears threatened to unleash. Her voice was barely above a whisper and on the edge of desperation. "Please understand. I did everything I could to save myself, but now I'm right back in his grasp, and there's going to be no stopping him. I am not something to be bought and sold any more than those women are."

He stalked up to her, his chest heaving. "What are you talking about?"

She could see the confusion warring with the disbelief in his eyes.

"I'll tell your team everything. But you can't be in the room. I can't watch your face. It will kill me."

She was weary. All of this was too much, and she wanted to lock herself away again. Not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well. It had been safer that way.