Behind Your Back

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “She’s wonderful. I couldn’t have wished for a better sister,” I say and I truly mean it.

  “And she could say the same,” he says, looking at me with a smile. I roll my eyes.

  “I don’t know about that. But thank you anyway.” We walk on in silence for a while until it’s broken by my phone ringing. Should have left the damn thing in the car.

  It’s Dad. I can’t ignore him, so I answer it.

  “Hey, Dad,” I say, giving Sylas a look. He nods and we keep walking.

  “Saige, where have you been? I’ve been calling and calling you.” He’s freaking out. My father never gets freaked out.

  “I’m sorry, I’ve been swamped with finals and studying like crazy. I’ve been turning my phone off so I’m not distracted.” The lie slides out of my mouth easily.

  “You shouldn’t turn your phone off, Saige. It’s not good when I can’t get in touch with you,” he says, his voice terse.

  “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” I say, looking at Sylas. His jaw is tight. He doesn’t like me talking to my father. Well, I’m not a fan of it right now either.

  “Well, we need to talk, Saige. We really need to talk.” Uh-oh. This is bad.

  “Okay, about what?” Now I’m scared. If my father is so stressed, something is really wrong.

  “We need to do this in person. How soon can you be at the house?” We’re nearly an hour away, and obviously Sylas can’t drive me, so I’ll have to go back to my place and get my car.

  “I can be there in about two hours,” I say.

  “Two hours? Where the hell are you, Saige?” If he wanted to, he could track my phone in a few minutes.

  “I’m at the beach. I just needed a break from studying, so I drove out here to clear my head.” He sighs heavily.

  “Well, get back here as soon as you can.” He hangs up and I feel like I’m thirteen again and he just caught me drinking for the first time.

  “What’s wrong?” Sylas says, keeping his voice mild.

  “I have no idea, but something is going down and we need to go back ASAP. You’ll have to drop me off and then I can take my car to the house.” Our lovely day is now ruined. I knew it was too good to be true.

  We walk a hell of a lot faster back to our shoes and I make sure to dust my feet off before I put them on.

  “I’m sorry about this,” I say and Sylas waves me off.

  “It must be important. Your father doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who panics.” No, he’s not. He wasn’t panicking, exactly, but I won’t really know what’s going on until I get there.

  Sylas says he’s going back to his place for a little bit after he drops me off. He hardly said anything to me on the way back, and I hate that the distance is back between us, but I don’t have time to think about it as I grab my keys and throw myself into my car.

  I pull into the driveway and see only Dad’s car is here. Mom’s home, but she’s been going out even more lately. It’s nice not to have to worry about seeing her when I come to talk to Dad.

  Martha lets me in and I head right back to the office.

  “What is it?” I say, opening the door and then locking it behind me. He looks up at me, eyes full of an anger I’ve never seen before.

  “He’s alive. That mother fucker is alive.” I sit down, confused.

  “Who is?”

  “Andrew Carter. Sylas’ father.” I gasp, bringing my hand to my mouth.

  “How do you know?” The man was killed in prison years ago. Or so we thought.

  Instead of answering me, he just throws a stack of grainy surveillance photos at me. I pick them up and see a man who looks like looking at an older version of Sylas, but without all the muscles and tattoos. This man is thin and wasted, his face hollow, but it’s undeniable that this is Sylas’ father.

  Dad starts pacing the room, muttering to himself.

  “Where is he?” I ask, keeping my voice level.

  “Texas,” he spits out and then starts throwing things off the bookshelves. At first I don’t know what to do. Never have I seen my father act like this. He doesn’t lose his cool. Ever.

  I sit and wait as the storm blows itself out and he starts to cool down, his chest heaving and his eyes red and wild.

  He looks like a feral animal and I’m glad Mom’s not here. She’d be even more at a loss than I am.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, because I honestly don’t know what else to say. He wipes his eyes and I see they’re wet. He’s been crying.

  “No. I am so far from okay, Saige.” I can tell, so I get up from the chair, wade through the detritus of his tantrum and give him a hug. Like I used to when I was little, my arms around his middle and my head on his chest.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I say, running my hands up and down his back. “It’s going to be okay.” He trembles in my arms and just… falls apart. Strange sounds gasp from his mouth and it’s hard to hold onto him.

  “Shhh,” I say, doing my best to keep us upright together. His breakdown finally starts to subside. I don’t let him go until he says something.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice is still rough with emotion. He pulls back from the hug and looks down at me. He’s an absolute mess. I search around on the floor and find a box of tissues he knocked down. I pull a few out and dab at his face.

  I want to ask so many more questions, but this isn’t the time for answers. I hand him another tissue and he blows his nose and then clears his throat. He’s turning back into the man I’ve known my whole life.

  “I thought he was dead,” he says in a low voice.

  “I know you did. Everyone did.” How in the hell was this guy able to evade everyone for this long? Witness Protection, maybe? There’s really no other explanation.

  He swallows hard.

  “I have to kill him.”

  I suck in a shocked breath.

  Thirteen

  Now I really don’t know what to say. Dad steps away from me and starts picking up the items on the floor. I wait for a moment and then join him. We’re silent as we replace everything to where it used to be. The only casualty is a paperweight shaped like a ship my mother bought him.

  “Shame,” I say, tossing it in the trash.

  “Not really,” he says and I see the glimmer of a potential smile on his face. “I always hated that thing, but I held onto it because I didn’t want to argue with your mother over it.” He does a lot of things to avoid arguing with her.

  “Why do you stay with her?” The words are out of my mouth before I realize I’ve said them. I’ve never asked him this before, even though I’ve wanted to my entire life.

  He pauses, his hand adjusting a book on one of the shelves.

  “As the years go on, I find fewer and fewer reasons,” he says quietly, not meeting my eyes. Going back to his chair, he sits down. I resume my place in his leather guest chair.

  “In the early days, I told myself I could grow to love her. And then you came along and I told myself it was best for you to have two parents. As you got older, I told myself it was to protect you from your mother. And now you’re a grown woman and don’t need my protection.” They’re all valid, though misguided, reasons.

  “I would have gone with you. If you left,” I say. Given the choice between my two parents, I would have picked him. For a moment, I imagine that life. Free from the constant criticism and fights. I wonder if I would have turned out differently. There’s no way to know.

  “I know. But she would have fought for custody and probably would have gotten it. I didn’t want to take the risk.” That I can also understand.

  “I don’t blame you. I just wanted to know,” I say. He made the best choice he could, given the circumstances.

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you resented me. I deserve it.” I shake my head.

  “No, you don’t.”

  He’s being so honest with me and my lie is heavy in my stomach. Like a dark, rotting thing, eating away at me. I want to purge it from my body, get it out, but I
just can’t seem to tell him.

  “Are you going to tell Sylas?” He deserves to know. I can’t even begin to imagine what his reaction is going to be.

  “No,” he says.

  “No? Are you serious?” I ask. What is he thinking?

  “No. I’m not going to tell him. I’m going to take care of this and then it will be like he’s been dead all along. Telling him will only hurt him.” I get to my feet.

  “You cannot be fucking serious.” I’ve never sworn at my father. Ever. It shocks both of us.

  He points a finger at me. “Watch your tone.” Oh hell no.

  “You can’t hide this from him. It’s not right.” Now I’m the one pacing the room and I definitely want to throw things. This back and forth with my father and Sylas has been slowly driving me crazy. It’s too much to deal with.

  Dad’s eyes narrow and I know I’ve said too much.

  “Are you still seeing him?” I open my mouth to lie and I can’t.

  “Yes. I am. He and I are…” What are we? I don’t even know what to call it.

  “Saige!” I pivot in around and clench my hands together. I wanted to put this off as long as possible, but here we are.

  “I know! I know! I’m an idiot, but I can’t stop. I love him. I love him,” I say, and my voice breaks. Now it’s my turn to cry.

  Dad opens and closes his mouth a few times.

  “I wanted to tell you. I’m so sorry I didn’t. But I love him. I didn’t mean to, but once it started, I couldn’t stop it.” Loving Sylas feels like being hit by lightning. One minute you’re standing there and then you’re completely different and you have no idea how it happened. I loved him without intention, without forethought. Before I knew what was happening, I was in too deep to get myself out. I had no choice but to let myself drown.

  “How long?” Dad asks.

  “For a while. Before I stopped working on him. I told myself it was part of the con, but it wasn’t. I said it and I meant it. And he loves me too.” Dad makes a snorting noise.

  “And you believe him? What are you thinking, Saige?” This is the exact reaction I expected. I only have one answer for him.

  “I love him.”

  Dad sits down and turns everything over in his mind for at least ten minutes. I wait patiently for his next question, his next challenge. He turns in his chair and looks out the window into the back garden. It’s my mother’s pride and joy, even though she does none of the gardening herself. Rather she hires a team of gardeners and sits on a chair and yells at them. Like a queen with her subjects.

  “I don’t know what to say, Saige.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” There’s nothing else I can say, really.

  “I thought you told me everything,” he whispers, and I see that he’s crying again, but the tears fall silently down his face and onto his shirt.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I say, wiping away my own tears. This has been quite a day for revelations. “I hated lying to you. It made me sick.”

  He shakes his head slowly and then wipes his eyes with both hands.

  “I never should have had you take that job. This is my fault.” That’s definitely not true.

  “We would have met anyway,” I say. “Because of Lizzy.”

  He nods, as if he’d forgotten about that particular connection.

  “I just wish it hadn’t happened this way.”

  Now that is something we can agree on.

  “I think that thought every single day. But I don’t regret it did. Because I love him and I love my sister. I always wanted a family. One who loved me back.” Besides him.

  “I love you,” he says. “I thought that would be enough.” I get up and give him another hug.

  “It is enough. You’ve always been enough. But I’m a woman now. I need other kinds of love in my life.” He stares into my eyes and smiles, just a little bit.

  He runs his hands through my hair.

  “I still see you as a little girl sometimes. Running around and making your mother mad for getting dirt on your dress.”

  “But I’m not that little girl anymore.” He sighs.

  “I know, I know.”

  My phone rings and I pull it out of my back pocket. It’s Cash.

  “Who is it?” Dad asks.

  “Um, Lo. I’m just going to go to my room to talk to her,” I say, heading toward the door. It’s another lie, but a little one.

  Dad lets me leave and I shut the door to his office behind me. I pick up the call before it flips over to voicemail.

  “Hello?” I say.

  “Hello, Saige Beaumont,” he says and his tone is the same. As if he’s laughing at a joke someone just told him.

  “What can I do for you?” I ask as I walk up the stairs.

  “Well, now, why would I need something? Maybe I’m just calling to chat,” he says and I roll my eyes as I walk into my bedroom and lock the door behind me.

  “Yeah, okay,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “Fine, fine. I was wondering if you had seen Sylas today.”

  “Why?” I ask. That makes him laugh.

  “I don’t have ulterior motives, I promise. I was just waiting to hear from him about something and I thought I would cover all my bases and go ahead and ask you.” I’m still suspicious. Something doesn’t feel right.

  “What are you waiting to hear from him about?” I ask, sitting on the edge of my bed. I really hate this room. One of these days I’m going to pay a crew to redecorate it and give my mother a heart attack.

  “Nice try.”

  “It was worth a shot.” There’s a beat of silence and I wait for him to say goodbye and hang up. But he doesn’t.

  “Anything else?” I ask.

  “No, nothing, nothing.”

  “Okayyyyy,” I say, but he still doesn’t hang up. “This is fun, but I have things to do so unless you have something else you want to talk to me about…”

  “No, no. Just if you see him, tell him to call me.” Oh, there’s definitely more to it than that.

  “I will,” I say.

  “Goodbye, Saige Beaumont.”

  “Bye, Cash,” I say, hanging up and wondering what the hell that was.

  I go back downstairs and Dad isn’t in the office. I search around and see him in the garden. The French doors that lead outside from the kitchen are wide open, the muggy summer air seeping into the house and battling for dominance with the air conditioner.

  He’s walking through the rows of rosebushes, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Hey,” I say, getting his attention. He turns and gives me a tight smile.

  “Everything okay with Lo?” he asks.

  “Yup,” I say, nodding. It would be way too complicated to explain the Cash situation to him right now. I’ve got another bomb to drop on him. I sit back down in the chair.

  “I’m going to tell Sylas. He has a right to know,” I say and Dad’s fist clench. I take a breath. “You can’t stop me from telling him.”

  “Saige.”

  “No. I love you, Dad, but this isn’t right.” This is one thing that I couldn’t keep from Sylas, even if I wanted to. This is a lie that can’t be kept. “This man ruined his life and he needs to know. Put yourself in his place.” His mouth turns into a tight line and his jaw clenches so hard I wonder if he’s going to damage his teeth.

  “I want to be the one to take his life. I was so disappointed when I heard that he was killed in prison. I had dreams about it. Still do sometimes.” That shocks me a little. I’ve never imagined my dad as a violent man. Or at least not like that.

  “I think I should go,” I say. I want to get to Sylas. It’s going to be horrific to be the one to tell him, but I’m okay with that.

  “Don’t hurt him, Saige. This news will only hurt him,” he says.

  “That’s not for you to decide. I promised him total honesty and I’m not going to go back on that,” I say, getting up and heading toward the door. I expect him to try to s
top me, but he doesn’t.

  I’m shaking a bit as I get into my car.

  I have to tell him.

  The BMW isn’t anywhere near my apartment. I park my car and head upstairs. It’s dark and empty. No Sylas to greet me at the door. I pull out my phone and call him.

  He doesn’t pick up. I leave a message.

  “Sylas, please call me back when you get this. Or come to my apartment. I have to tell you something.” I end the message and start pacing. That only lasts a few minutes. I feed Leo, who is pissed at me for not playing with him, but then I’m out the door and driving to his place.

  He’s not here. I break in just to make sure, but the place is Sylas free. I chew on my lip and walk around. It’s been a while since I’ve been here. I wonder why he uses this crappy apartment when he could have something so much better. Just another part of the mystery that is Sylas.

  I wait for a while, but he doesn’t come back. Sighing, I go back to my car and drive back home.

  It’s two in the morning when I finally go to bed. I’ve been up and waiting for Sylas for hours. I’ve called him dozens of times and heard nothing.

  I’m definitely scared. I think about calling Cash, but something tells me I shouldn’t. Call it intuition. I sleep fitfully and wake up at eight. Sylas still isn’t back and I’m officially freaked out.

  I call him one more time, but it goes straight to voicemail, which means his phone is off.

  At a loss with what to do, I call Cash.

  “Hello, Saige Beaumont, what can I do for you?” He’s making a joke of what I said last time, but I’m in no mood for it.

  “Sylas is gone. He didn’t come back last night and he won’t answer any of my calls.” He’s silent for a second.

  “Did you have a fight?” I want to scream at him. This isn’t some boyfriend/girlfriend drama. He has to take this seriously.

  “No. We spent the day together and now he’s gone. I just want to know that he’s okay,” I say. I know he can track Sylas’ phone in seconds.