Behind Your Back

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “Then he should have worn a condom when he fucked my mother.” He’s trying to say things to hurt me. Well, the damage is already done.

  “It takes two people to make a baby, Sylas. He’s not the only one to blame.” I try to speak gently, aware he could explode at any moment and he’s got a glass in his hand.

  He shakes his head.

  “If you saw how many years my father has suffered. He loved her. He really loved her. Still does. Just because she’s gone, doesn’t mean he’s stopped.” He’ll never stop loving her, and it scares me. I’m afraid to love someone that much—so much so that when they’re taken from you, you spend the rest of your life aching for them, unable to move on or get past it.

  I throw caution to the wind and finish another glass. Why the hell not.

  “I just wanted my parents to love each other, but they never did. It wasn’t easy growing up. Nothing near as hard as you had it, though,” I say. He’s grinding his teeth together. I can almost hear the sound. Finally, he speaks.

  “My parents didn’t love each other either. I always wondered why my mother married that monster. She didn’t love him and he sure as hell didn’t love her.” There are so many factors that go into a person marrying someone they don’t love. So many factors.

  I take another chance and lean toward him. I can’t have anything on my back anymore. It’s too uncomfortable.

  “I’m sorry about that. I really am. You’re a victim of circumstances that were completely out of your control. It’s not right, Sylas. It’s okay to be angry about it.”

  I reach out to him again and this time I make contact with his arm. He’s warm through the material of his long-sleeve shirt. I wish he would wear short sleeves, at least with me. When he doesn’t pull away, I touch him again, stroking the material and wishing it was his inked skin. I could spend the rest of my life staring at his tattoos. Every time I see him naked, I notice something new. He’s a walking, talking, breathing piece of art.

  “I’m sorry for how everything’s turned out. I wish I could go back,” I say. I wonder if he can hear the regret in my voice. I know I can.

  He moves away from me and I hope he can’t see the hurt I know I can’t hide.

  “Well, there’s nothing we can do about the past. It’s done. It’s over.” It’s not. Not for me. I still love him.

  I sigh and get up from the couch and walk across the room. This is too hard. He’s too much and he makes me believe that things could be different. If I only said the right thing and he opened up to trust me again. I wouldn’t break it this time. I stare out the window for a few moments, marshaling my scrambled thoughts.

  “Everything’s all fucked up, Quinn.” I wince when I accidently use his alias. “Sylas.” I face him again and I see a universe worth of emotions cross his eyes. I can’t stop a few tears from leaking out of my eyes and racing down my cheeks.

  I wipe them away, but don’t hide them from him.

  “I didn’t want it to be like this. Not with you,” I say. He’s still on the couch, but poised, as if he’s ready to get up and throw himself at me. In my mind, I’m begging him to. I know that if he’ll only kiss me, it will be over. Our bodies know each other too well, and he won’t be able to fight our connection anymore.

  “I didn’t come here for this, Saige.” I open my mouth to say something, but he’s right. I can’t use sex as a weapon anymore. If I want him, it’s going to have to be the right way from here on out. I’m not even sure if I know how to do that.

  “I’ll give you a ride,” I say, a little desperately. He gets up and shakes his head.

  “No, I can catch a cab. I’ll walk.” His voice is firm, telling me not to follow him. Not to touch him.

  “Sylas,” I say as he reaches for the door handle and turns it. The tears are back, but he doesn’t care.

  “Goodbye, Saige,” he says before he shuts the door in my face.

  ****

  My body is in so much pain that I grab some water and some aspirin and head to bed. I pull the curtains to block out the daylight and lay on my stomach.

  The tears flow freely, and I don’t bother to brush them away. They soak into my pillow, which sticks to my face.

  Minutes tick by. The silence is driving me crazy. I don’t like silence. Most of the time, if I’m alone, I need to have music or television, or some noise going.

  My phone buzzes on my nightstand and I slap my hand around to find it. I don’t even bother to see who’s calling before I answer.

  “Hello? Sylas?” I’m breathless, as if I’ve run a mile.

  “Nope,” Lo says. “Sorry to disappoint you. But I could be whoever Sylas is if you want me to be.” Shit. I shouldn’t have said his name. Now I’m going to have to explain.

  “Sorry, I was sleeping and having a dream,” I say. It’s a lame excuse, but I don’t have the energy for something better.

  “Oooohhhh, what kind? The naked kind, I’m hoping.”

  “Not really,” I say, sitting up. My face is disgusting and my eyes are puffy. I’m sure they’re red also. One of the wonderful upsides of having extremely pale skin. Along with sun burning easily and not being able to hide a blush. Not that I blush very often. I don’t find much in life blush-worthy.

  “Are you still there?” Lo asks.

  “Yeah. Just… tired.” As if on cue, I yawn.

  “Why are you so tired? It’s the middle of the day.”

  “I got my tattoo done and I self-medicated the pain with some booze,” I say, and it’s not a lie.

  Lo doesn’t know about Sylas. Well, she knows about Quinn, but not the whole story. I’ve kept his real identity a secret because I owe him at least that. He hasn’t broadcasted mine, which surprises me. It’s not like he couldn’t, if he wanted to.

  “You did? Holy crap, I need to see it now. I’m on my way.” I don’t want to see Lo. She’ll know something bad happened the second she looks at my face. But when Lo wants to do something, she’s going to do it.

  “I’m in my bedroom,” I say and end the call.

  Before Lo gets here, I get up and wash my face and grab some ice cubes from the freezer. Tossing them in a paper towel, I press the homemade icepack to each eye in turn, hoping it will take down the swelling and the redness.

  I check myself in the mirror and I’m still red, but a little less puffy. I’ll just tell Saige that I pussied out during the tattoo or something.

  I head back to the bedroom and lay back down in the dark.

  Lo bursts through fifteen minutes later. She has a key to my place that I never made for her, but somehow has anyway.

  “Why is it so dark in here?” A second later the curtains are thrown open and sunlight invades. Ugh. I want it to be dark for a long time.

  “Lemme see, lemme see.” She rips my shirt up. Lo has no respect for my personal space.

  “Ugh, get off me,” I say, rolling away from her.

  “I wouldn’t have to manhandle you if you’d just show me,” she says. I want to tell her to leave, but I pull up my shirt and turn my back. She turns the lights on and shoves me around so she can get a good look through the plastic that Crash taped on to protect it.

  “That is sick, Saige. Seriously awesome. I’m totally jealous.” I turn and face her and her expression immediately changes.

  “What’s wrong?” I roll my eyes. It was stupid to think I could put anything past her.

  “Nothing. Just… Quinn and I had a fight.” That’s close enough to the truth. I hate lying to Lo. Next to Dad, she’s the person I’m closest with. I’ve been lying to her since we became friends and I have little fantasies of telling her someday about my other life.

  But I could never do that to Dad. It would expose him and ruin all the things he’s trying to do. It’s not just about me, and that’s the part that’s so hard sometimes.

  “Tell me,” she says, her voice going soft as she sits with me on the bed.

  “It’s stupid. It was so stupid. One of those things that starts sm
all and turns into something much bigger and I’m pretty sure it’s unfixable.” I’m able to swallow the tears back this time. I think I’m all cried out. For now.

  “Aw, sweets, I’m sorry.” She puts her arms around me and gives me a hug. I wish her arms belonged to Sylas. I wish he would have kissed me. I wish so many things that will never happen.

  “I’ll be okay. I’m tough.” Normally, this would be true. But I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about Sylas. It’s all consuming and I don’t even know if I can call it love because it’s… more. So much more than that.

  “Hell yes, you are. Don’t let him get you down.” She pats my shoulder and lets me go, but I can still see her watching me.

  “I won’t,” I say, but it’s so much more complicated than that.

  I force a smile and Lo smiles back. It’s kind of hard not to smile around Lo. She has this ethereal beauty that’s tempered by a feisty personality. We’ve only been friends for a few years, but it feels like a lifetime. I look back at my childhood pictures and sometimes it’s a shock not to see her in them.

  “Okay, we’re going out. You need to get up and away from the gloom in this room.”

  I snort a little at her unintentional rhyme.

  “You’re a poet and you didn’t even know it,” I say.

  “Haha, get dressed. You have five minutes.” She shoves me toward my closet and then walks out.

  “Five minutes!” she yells.

  Four minutes and twenty-six seconds later, I’m walking out of my bedroom in another outfit. A black and white striped maxi skirt with a white t-shirt. Simple and comfy and still pretty.

  “It’s about time,” she says, taking her hair down and then putting it up again in the exact same ponytail. Lo chronically plays with her hair. It’s annoying sometimes, but at least she isn’t a chronic masturbator.

  “Okay, okay. Where to?” I say, because she’s definitely in charge here. I don’t have the energy to fight her like I normally do.

  “Well, I’d love to take you to get a new vibrator, but something tells me you might object to that particular venture,” she says and I glare at her. I happen to have one I’m very happy with and not in the mood to browse a store that’s filled with rubber dicks.

  “That’s what I thought. So. Shoes.” I love shoes, and so does Lo, so normally that would be a great outing. Today, not so much. Even a pair of fabulous pumps isn’t going to take my mind off Sylas.

  “Fine,” I say with a sigh as Lo grabs my black leather jacket and purse and shoves me through my own door.

  Two hours later, I have two new pairs of shoes and Lo has four. I’m not feeling any better, but being out is better than wallowing in my room alone, I suppose.

  I can’t stop checking my phone to see if Sylas has called or texted, or if my dad has called or texted regarding him.

  They still need to meet to discuss what’s going to happen from here, but Dad wanted to let Sylas cool down for a few days. Wise idea.

  “What do you think?” Lo says, snapping my attention back to her as she tries on a pair of sky high heels in a brilliant royal blue. They make her already long legs look like they go on for days and I hate her a little for them. Lo has the type of body that can only be described as “glamazon.” She’ll never be “cute” or “petite,” unlike me.

  “Fabulous,” I say, gesturing to them as she sticks a leg out and looks down at her foot.

  “So I should get them, right? I mean, it would be a crime to deprive my feet of these shoes.”

  “Absolutely,” I say, cracking a small smile. She’s about to try another pair on when I tell her my tattoo is hurting, and I want to go back home. She agrees, but not before she takes me out for a light dinner at a quiet and subdued bar.

  “I know I’m going to regret this tomorrow, but it feels good right now,” she says, looking down at the numerous bags by her feet. Lo definitely doesn’t have the money to spend on all those pairs of shoes. No doubt she’ll be back to the stores tomorrow to return most of them.

  “Hmm,” I say, a non-committal response.

  “Come on, come out of your funk,” she says, reaching across the table to lightly smack my arm.

  I don’t want to. I want to wrap myself in it like a blanket and never come out again.

  “Lo, seriously. I’m not in the mood.” She searches my eyes and finally nods, backing off.

  “I’m sorry, Saige. I know how twisted up you are over this guy.” I cringe. She hasn’t even said his name and I’m wincing.

  “It’s stupid,” I say.

  “No, it’s not. You really cared about him and I have to say I’m surprised because he definitely cares about you. Anyone could see that. His eyes lit up every time he looked at you.” Yeah, I’ll bet he practiced that one in the mirror so he could get it just right.

  “Can we stop talking about this?” I say as she puts her hand up to ask our waiter for the check.

  “Sure,” she says and pays for a plate of food I barely touched.

  When I get back Lo gives me a hug, but leaves me alone.

  I put on my new shoes and click my heels together, but that doesn’t do a whole lot of good.

  My entire body aches, not just the tattoo. It’s almost that ache you get when you know you’re coming down with something.

  And then I do something that is entirely stupid.

  I call him.

  Five

  I’m shocked when he picks up and doesn’t let it go to voicemail, or that he hasn’t blocked my phone number.

  “Hello?” he says, keeping his voice neutral. My heart speeds up at the sound of his voice.

  “Hey, Sylas,” I say, and I sound weak and sad and whiny.

  “Is there something I can do for you, Saige?” he says. He’s still trying to hurt me.

  “I really want to talk to you. I keep trying, but you don’t seem to want to listen.”

  He lets out a breath. “What would give you that impression?” The sarcasm drips from his tone, but it doesn’t bother me. I force myself to be strong. I am strong.

  “Look. You can hang up right now. You can block my number and move to a different apartment, a different city, change your name and never see me again. But something tells me you’re not going to do that.” He doesn’t answer.

  “Something tells me you’re not going to deny your sister the right to get to know me or her biological father. Your own father was a murderer and a disappointment. Your sister has the chance to have a relationship with a man who won’t do that to her. Someone who will care for her. And… I’d really like to get to know her.” Of course my voice breaks a little at the end. I can’t help it.

  “I always wanted a sister,” I say. He breathes for what feels like eternity and I wish I could see him and know what this face looks like right now. Read his eyes. Then he sighs again.

  “Well, you’re in luck because she wants to meet you too. I was going to call you and ask if you wanted to come with me when I visit on Saturday. I have no idea why, but she asked for you.” I nearly fall over. This is such a change from what he said just a day ago that it takes me a minute to speak. Sylas always surprises me.

  “She does?” I need to hear him say it again.

  His voice is warmer when he answers. “Yes. She does. And we’re going to have a chat about what to say and not to say to her when you do visit. Lizzy is special.”

  “Fine. Fine. I know she’s special. Anyone who spends even a moment with her would see that,” I say, and I cringe at how eager my voice is. What changed his mind? What has he been doing in the past few hours that made him go from red to green?

  “Okay then,” he says and I can’t stop the smile that spreads on my face. I’m going to see my sister.

  “I’ll pick you up on Saturday at nine.” I start to thank him, but he hangs up.

  After I get over my shock that Sylas is going to take me to see Lizzy, I call Dad.

  “Hey, so Sylas just called and he’s bringing me to see Lizzy on S
aturday. Did you know anything about this?” I say.

  Dad is also shocked for a minute.

  “No, I’ve heard nothing. What made him change his mind?”

  “No idea. Absolutely none. But I’m going to go and see if that will help.”

  “Good. Let me know how it goes.”

  “I will.”

  He pauses and I can feel there’s something else he wants to talk about.

  “What is it?” I ask, cutting to the chase.

  “I’m not sure if this is going to work.”

  “Why not?” I say, taking my new shoes out of the boxes and adding them to the right shelf in my closet.

  “Just a feeling.” I chew on my lip, thinking. Dad’s feelings are almost never wrong. He has better instincts than anyone I’ve ever met before.

  “Tell me,” I say.

  “He’s a wild card. Unpredictable. I know we’ve figured him out, but I still think he could surprise us.” He does still surprise me. All the time.

  “True, but if he goes up against us, he’s going to lose.”

  “I suppose,” he says with a sigh. I frown. What is wrong with him? My father is not a man who loses confidence in himself, especially not like this. We planned out every move (except for the part about me having sex with Sylas. I went off book for that one), and here we are, exactly where we wanted to be.

  “Do you need me to work on him some more?” I ask.

  “No, no. Just… make sure you stay in contact with him. Frequently.” That shouldn’t be too hard. I’m pretty much doing it already.

  “When are you going to ask him?”

  “Soon. After you visit with Lizzy. He really needs some time to think. Figure out what he wants. And then I’ll tell him what he wants.” There’s my confident father.

  “That’s right,” I say with a little laugh. My father isn’t someone people say no to, and not just because he has a lot of money and a lot of powerful friends. It’s just the way he is.