I swallow. “You did but I had to.”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because you’re killing yourself by working there. You don’t want to work there. You want something else.” And then, I can’t keep it in any longer, I have to say it to him, I have to beg him not to do it.
So I go to him. I meet him halfway.
I clutch his hoodie. “Don’t do it, Roman. Don’t do what your dad asked you to do. Don’t destroy Pete’s garage. Please.”
His jaw tics, his eyes violent and aggressive. “Do you have any idea how dangerous my father is? How big of a psychopath he is? He’s a fucking criminal, okay? A goddamn criminal. And I have done everything in my power to keep you safe from him.”
“Tell me,” I say as I grab onto the opening he’s given me. “Tell me what you’ve done. Tell me everything.”
Reed bends down, his face vicious. “You wanna know, Fae? You wanna know what I’ve done and what my dad can do?”
“Yes.”
“All right. You think he pressed those charges against you because he was trying to punish you, don’t you? Because you stole his precious son’s car. Isn’t that correct, Fae? Isn’t that what you think?”
“Yeah,” I say, fear clutching my heart.
“He didn’t. He doesn’t give a fuck that you stole my car or that you tried to destroy his son’s property. He doesn’t give a fuck,” he snaps, looming even closer. “He doesn’t give a fuck about you. He doesn’t care who you are or what you did. He pressed those charges against you because he wanted to get to me. Because he wanted to punish me, not you. He wanted to punish me for years of defying him, for taunting him with soccer. For taunting him with my scholarship, with my inevitable career in the pros. Yeah, he doesn’t give a fuck about you, Fae.”
He takes a moment to grind his teeth. “When I told him that I wouldn’t do his bidding if he didn’t make all the charges disappear and set you free. He, in turn, told me that I had no leg to stand on. Because if I didn’t quit soccer and come work for him, you’d go to juvie and he’d make sure that you stayed buried in there. So he doesn’t care about you or your little family. All he cares about is me. His rebellious, disobedient son who fucking hates him. Controlling me, making me his bitch, making me do things that I don’t want to do. It’s fun for him. Do you understand that? It’s fun for him to toy with people. He’s done it all his life. Me, my sister, my mother. In business. So he was toying with you to get to me.”
I let him go then.
I unfurl my fingers from his hoodie and ask him with my heart beating in my ears, “And now that I’m pregnant?”
His nostrils flare. “He’ll use that too. He’ll use Halo. He’ll use Juilliard too, your dream, if he has to.”
“Against you.”
His response is a muscle on his cheek that comes to life and throbs.
“So…” I have to take a moment here to gather myself. “So you’ll do his bidding for the rest of your life?”
“Yes, if that’s what it takes to keep you safe. To keep Halo safe.”
That’s what he’s been doing for the past two years. That’s what he’ll keep doing.
I fist my hands. “What about Pete?”
“What about him?”
“Are you going to take his garage from him and give it to your dad?”
His features ripple and I know, I know, that it’s pain.
He’s hurting at the thought of harming Pete. His one and only friend, the man who’s been more of a father to Reed than his own.
“He’ll get over it,” Reed says, trying to sound nonchalant, but his rigid body gives him away.
“Will you?”
“What?”
“Will you get over it, Roman? For screwing over your friend. The friend that you love.”
At this, his features scrunch up and he plows his fingers through his hair as he scoffs. “Jesus Christ, you don’t give up, do you? Why does everything have to be love? I don’t love anything. I don’t have time to love anything. My life is already plenty screwed up without it, you understand? So yeah, I’ll get over it. I got over hurting you, didn’t I?”
No, he didn’t.
He hasn’t.
He still apologizes to me. He still feels bad about what he did two years ago.
The other day he bought me daisies. Both flowers and dresses with daisies printed on them. Because I told him that I’d buried all the dresses from two years ago somewhere deep in my closet so I never look at them. Because they remind me of him.
And then I told him that I missed sitting in his Mustang with him, listening to music with the windows down and our eyes closed. So he recreated that whole moment last weekend in our driveway.
He even apologizes for the things that weren’t his fault to begin with.
Like getting me pregnant.
It takes two people to do that, doesn’t it?
But he doesn’t care.
He isn’t over that either. He shows it to me every single day by pampering me like I’m the most precious treasure in the world. Like I’m the first girl to get pregnant. Ever.
Like I’m a wonder. His wonder.
You’re a wonder…
“And what about you?” I ask, sounding all calm when I want to shake him and make him understand that he can’t live like this.
He can’t keep hurting people he cares about because his father is a villain.
“What about me?”
“Don’t you see? You love cars, Roman. You love them. You have a passion for them. I watched you yesterday. You were so happy. Working at that garage gives you joy. It gives you peace and it sets your soul on fire. That’s your dream, Roman. That garage is your dream. Like ballet is mine. Don’t you deserve at least a shot at it? At your dream.”
His chest moves with a violent breath as he snaps, “Fuck dreams. I don’t care about dreams. I don’t want any dreams. Do you think I’m any better than my father, Fae, huh? I did the same thing he did, didn’t I? I used you. I took advantage of you. I lied to you. I broke promises to you. And you’re not the only one. I’ve used people. I’ve used Ledger, his anger, against him. I’ve cheated just to win at soccer. I’ve lied to people to get my way. I’ve blackmailed them. I’m my father’s son. Everything I’ve learned, I’ve learned from him. What makes you think I deserve my dreams? Or a happy ending of any sort?”
Because he’s regretful.
Because he has remorse. Because he wants to do better.
That’s the difference between him and his father, the true villain.
My Roman wants to be better.
“And if that’s the price to pay to keep you safe, to keep Halo safe, I’ll do it. I’ll keep working for my dad. I’ll keep doing what he asks me to do. I told you that, didn’t I? I told you that I’ll destroy anything and anyone if it means you’re safe. And I’m not going to apologize for it.”
Yeah, that’s what he said.
He said that he’ll destroy the world, burn it down to protect me. To protect Halo.
But he’s not burning down the world, is he? He’s not destroying someone else.
He’s destroying himself.
He’s hell-bent on destroying himself because he wants to keep me safe.
Because that’s what will happen if he screws over Pete.
And suddenly, I have to ask him.
I have to ask what Pete told me to yesterday. It confused me then but somehow things are clear.
Things are so clear and vivid and my heart can’t stop spinning in my chest.
I look up at him, into his wolf eyes that are watching me defiantly, agitatedly. “What do you…” I swallow, trying to steady my voice, my breaths. “What do you keep in the trunk of your Mustang?”
Reed’s breaths, however, seize as his brows snap together. “What?”
“Tell me what you keep in the trunk of your car.”
“Pete tell you to ask me that?”
“Yes. Tell me.”
His chest shudders as he plows his fingers through his hair again, almost ripping it out. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”
I raise my voice. “Tell me, Roman.”
I have to.
To make him answer. To make my own heart stop beating so loudly.
He hates it. Having to answer me.
But he does even though there’s violence in every word of his. “The sweater you gave me, all right?”
“The sweater.”
“Yes,” he pushes out. “I keep the sweater you gave me, wrapped up in a bag, in the trunk of my car.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s the only place I know it will be safe. The only way I know it will be with me wherever I go.”
My sweater.
The one I made for him because I loved him. Because I knew that he was always cold and I wanted him to have something warm and cozy when I wasn’t there to wrap him into my arms.
He keeps that sweater, my love letter to him, safe in his Mustang. Again, something he never told me and probably never would’ve if I hadn’t pushed him.
He keeps the thing I made for him with love, in the only thing he says he loves.
But I know that’s not true.
I know he loves his sister. He loves Pete despite what he says. I know he loves Halo.
And now I know he loves me.
He loves me.
Reed is in love with me. He’s been in love with me for a long time now.
And you know what? He loved me two years ago too.
What I felt back then was real. He loved me.
That’s why he did everything.
He protected my virginity. He got those charges reduced at his expense. And I know that he broke my heart that day but he loved me even then. He did it because he thought he had no choice. He did it because of his father.
And more than anything, I know when he broke my heart, he broke his heart too.
Like his heart is breaking right now.
And God, I thought… I thought if I ever found out that Reed was in love with me too, then I’d be the happiest girl in the world. I’d be the luckiest girl.
Because the guy I fell in love with when I was almost sixteen loves me back. I’m not sure if he realizes that he loves me but he does love me back.
Reed Roman Jackson.
The love of my life. The beat of my ballerina heart.
Loves me back.
But I’m not.
I’m not happy. I’m not happy because he’s destroying himself for this love.
He’s tearing himself apart for this. For Halo. For my dream that he thinks his father will destroy if he doesn’t give that vile man everything.
Just look at him.
Look at his messy hair, his pretty eyes all red and ferocious. That jaw all rough and clenched. His tall, broad body tight and alert in a battle stance.
And so I take a deep breath and try for the last time to make him understand.
That this isn’t the only way to love. He’s free to love in a hundred different ways.
Halo, Tempest, Pete… me.
“You’re regretting it now, aren’t you?” he asks in a guttural voice. “Forgiving me. Forgiving a guy like me.”
“No. Because there’s a difference,” I say, looking into his eyes. “Between you and him.”
“What?”
“I know you think that you’re like him. I know that. And you might be. You came from him, right? He’s your father. Of course you share similarities. You grew up with him. You grew up fighting with him, hating him and yet learning things from him. Because that’s what we do. We learn things from our surroundings, from our parents. But through some miracle, you learned new things. Different things. Things that he didn’t teach you, Roman. Because your father is incapable of those things. I talked to him. I could feel it. And I believe you when you say that your father is dangerous. And he’s that way because he’s incapable of remorse. He’s incapable of love. But you’re not. I know you want to believe that you don’t love anything and I’m not going to push you to believe otherwise. Not again. But I also know that you love Halo at least.”
I put my hand on my belly and she kicks into it. And as always, his eyes, so pretty, so anguished, fall to my hand.
“I know that you love her. You love our baby. And you know what else, Roman? She loves you back. She hasn’t even met you yet but she loves you. You know why? Because you’re her daddy. You’re going to protect her. You’re going to teach her so many things. Riding a bike or doing a math problem. Or throwing around a ball. Maybe climbing a tree. And you’re going to put her on your shoulders and she’s going to feel like she’s on the top of the world. She’s going to love her daddy. I can see it.
“I can see that she’s going to look up to you for everything. You’re going to be her favorite. Even more than me. I know that, Roman. She’s going to come to you for everything. Because you’re going to be her hero. You already are her hero. She perks up whenever you’re close. She goes to sleep if she’s restless. She hears your voice and I can feel her smiling inside of me, being all happy. But if you do this, Roman, if you do this thing for your father, then you’re going to break her heart. You’re going to break our baby girl’s heart because then you’ll be like everything else that you want to protect her from. You’ll be a villain.
“Don’t be a villain, Roman. I know you think you don’t have a choice. I know you think you have to do this. But you don’t. You always have a choice. Always. Choose the right thing. Choose the protector in you. You always wanted to be out of your father’s control, right? You can be. All you have to do is choose. Please. Choose what you want, what you’ve always wanted. And do it for Halo. Don’t break her heart before she’s even born, Roman. Before you’ve even held her in your arms. But more than that, choose what you want for yourself. Choose it because if you hurt the man who’s always been a father to you, for the man who’s never cared about you, you’ll break your heart. You’ll break your own heart, Roman, like you did two years ago. Stop breaking your own heart. Please.”
I’ve begged him now. As much as I can.
I’ve begged him and I’ve pleaded with him and I don’t know what he’s thinking.
I don’t know because he’s not showing me.
His body is a statue, made of beautiful marble, and his eyes are inscrutable. And even if he had any expression in them, I wouldn’t be able to see it anyway.
Because my own eyes are filled with tears. My own body is trembling.
I want him to say something, anything, and he does.
He shifts on his feet, takes a step back and says, “Don’t wait up.”
With that, he spins around and leaves.
He goes out the door he came in only a little while ago.
Even though he told me not to wait up for him, I do.
I wait for him but he doesn’t come back.
He doesn’t come the next morning either. Conrad comes to pick me up for school, says that Reed had texted him and asked him to drop me off.
Even though I know that I won’t see him until the end of the school day, I still wait for him.
I wait and wait and wait.
Until I’m climbing down the stairs at St. Mary’s, switching to my next class, tired and achy and so in love with the guy who I haven’t seen in hours now, that I slip.
My foot slips.
And I stumble.
I try to hold on to the metal banister but I can’t.
I can’t hold on and I fall.
I roll down the stairs and a blinding pain grips me, my back, my ankle.
But more than that, a blinding pain grips my abdomen.
Where my Halo is sleeping.
Mine and his.
I open the door to my father’s study and enter the four-hundred-square-foot space that I’ve always hated.
He’s sitting in his
throne-like chair and I know I’ve shocked him with my sudden intrusion.
I’ve actually never seen him shocked, now that I think about it.
I’ve seen him happy and gleeful and furious and in the fucking throes of passion but no, I’ve never seen him shocked. His gray eyes, so much like mine, flare slightly.
And I realize his eyes are too big for his face.
Thank God or whoever the fuck is responsible for these things that I didn’t get this trait from him, cartoonish eyes.
He opens his mouth to say something but I’m not interested. And I’m not staying long anyway.
So for the first time ever, without reservations or hesitations, I stride over to his desk and throw something at it. It skids all the way over to my father’s side, loose papers spilling across the polished desk.
It’s the file he gave me.
Like before, I put both my hands on his desk and look him in those eyes.
Eyes that have never been warm or affectionate.
“You wanted to teach me a lesson about keeping secrets, yeah?” I begin. “Well, here’s a little secret for you: I’m good with cars. Pretty fucking good. Fantastic, actually. Have you ever wondered why I love my Mustang so much?”
His features tighten up but I don’t give him a chance to speak. “You probably haven’t. Given how amazingly self-absorbed you are. I love it so much, Dad, because I built it myself. With my own hands. I didn’t buy it at a showroom, didn’t buy it with your money. It’s completely mine. Surprised you, didn’t I? Yeah, me too. Never thought I had that sort of talent. I mean, soccer’s easy. Soccer’s a piece of cake, but this stuff takes some real genius. And as I said, I’m pretty fantastic. So I’ve come to a conclusion: If I love it so much, building cars I mean, I should probably do it for a living, don’t you think?”
His malice-filled eyes narrow. But again, I don’t give him a chance to speak.
His speaking days are over.
“So here’s another little surprise for you: I bought the garage. On that piece of land that you wanted. That’s mine now. That I unfortunately had to buy with your money, or the money I earned working for you so technically it’s mine, but still. It made my skin crawl. But I guess it was for a good cause, huh? And now I think congratulations are in order, aren’t they? Because you’re never getting that piece of land.”
A Gorgeous Villain Page 51