Chapter 23 #2
He’s silent for a long time. “I used to get a skin reaction whenever I ate bread. I worked the railroads.” Lynx stops like he’s going through a Rolodex of memories to pluck out the single perfect one. “I once poured sand into Tony’s mouth because he was snoring too loud.”
Railroads? Would he have…? No, the world isn’t that small.
They’re all oddly specific, but there’s no doubt in my mind that the last one is true. “You never got a skin reaction,” I guess, feeling myself slowly relax into his arms. It’s like we’ve sat in this position a hundred times before, and it’s as natural as breathing.
He nods. “My mother would get sick whenever she had the scraps the baker gave us. She still ate it because it was often our only option, and we couldn’t afford all the medicine. The alternative was starving.”
I had no idea just how bad Lynx’s life was before he became a demon, but it makes sense now why he hated my family just for having money.
“Our scientists call it celiac disease. It’s when you can’t eat gluten—the thing that’s in bread that would’ve made your mother sick. My sister had it too.”
“Is there a cure for it?”
I shake my head.
“Do you think it’s what might’ve killed her?” He hesitates. “She was unwell for a long time before I found her dead when I came home from work.” Anger laces his voice.
My heart squeezes for him and I hear the tick, tick, tick of the clock in our apartment; see the paleness of Ella’s skin. I reach out before I can think better of it, squeezing his hand in quiet understanding.
“It could’ve been anything,” I say softly, recalling all the times I’ve blamed myself for Ella’s death. I tried my best to cover her medical expenses and always thought if I somehow did more she would’ve been cured.
But there was nothing I could’ve done. Ella made her decision, just as his mom made hers.
It’s still your fault, a voice in my head whispers.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Sometimes we mistake helplessness for guilt. It’s not your fault.”
He sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. Neither of us add anything more to it. We both know what loss is, and we both know what it means not to say goodbye.
But if I had the chance to right my wrongs, and tell Ella all the things I should’ve said, I’d take it.
“Your turn,” Lynx says, breaking the tension around us.
I take a deep breath and consider what I’m willing to share without showing him too much of my history.
“I used to want to be a painter just because it was the career that would piss off my parents the most,” I start. “During the summer, when everyone was asleep, there was a tree over there that I would climb up to sleep in.” I point toward the forest.
A squirrel called it home, and I was convinced it was my friend because I was Snow White or something.
I stopped going when I fell out of it and dislocated my shoulder.
Six-year-old me was heartbroken that my squirrel pal didn’t save me or wake me up before I fell.
I think I was more upset by that fact than the endless hours of my parents’ rage I had to endure, and the days I spent locked in my room, only allowed out for school and bathroom breaks.
“One year at camp, I strayed from the group because one of the kids upset me, and I went missing for about two days,” I finish.
Lynx mulls over the options then glances down at me. “I can’t imagine you as a painter.”
“Neither could I, but I wanted to do it anyway.” I chuckle.
“I never went missing. However, there was a kid who upset me, so I punched him and got sent home two days early. I ended up losing my virginity to that same guy under the bleachers, then made out with his brother in front of him at prom when he told everyone he thought my sister was hotter.”
Darkness falls over his eyes as he stiffens against me. The shadows in his jaw flicker with each grind of his molars. Yet he doesn’t add anything.
The same uneasy feeling settles in my chest like every other time I’ve said something wrong in my life. It’s the prickle of anxiety before knowing I’m about to face the consequences of something I didn’t realize would be bad.
“When I was eight, I broke my thumb punching one of the other boys we lived with,” he says, changing the subject as if he’s sensed what I’m thinking.
“There was a theater close to the rich side of town that had a poorly guarded back entrance. Before my mother was always sick, I’d sneak inside and listen to the shows from beneath the stage.
And I…” The long pause makes me sit up straighter to give him my full attention. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”
I bark a laugh that ends in a wince as I clutch my stomach.
“If you’re going to throw in a lie, at least make it believable.
” I roll my eyes, grinning up at him as his glare turns murderous.
“Obviously the last one is a lie. You don’t go around fucking people the way you do without ever kissing someone. ”
Except he doesn’t stop glaring at me, and beneath the moonlight, I can just make out the color splotching his cheeks. The furrowing in his brows and the venom in his eyes isn’t like all the other times he’s been pissed off at me.
He seems… embarrassed.
My gaze falls to his lips, and mine part on a gasp. “Shit. You’re serious?” I blink up at him in disbelief. “How?”
“This game was a waste of time.”
My upper body almost hits the ground with how quickly he pulls away and storms toward the French doors without so much as a glance at me.
“Wait. No. Lynx. Stop.” I scramble to my feet, cringing at the pain. “Truth or dare?” My voice comes out breathless both from pain and desperation. Either way, he stops, keeping his back to me and his head angled to the side.
“I’m not playing another one of your stupid games,” he spits.
“Just pick,” I insist. My hands tremble. I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m going to say, but at the same time, I do. I know what I want. “A truth or a dare?”
“Neither.” He turns to face me, staring me down like I’m the last person he wants to be around. Yet he still doesn’t leave.
“Lynx,” I plead, taking a hesitant step forward, my gaze dropping to his lips before moving back up. “What are you afraid of?”
Indecision flashes across his face. For a moment, I think he’s going to turn away and leave me alone out here. But his answer makes my lungs stop working.
“Dare.”
I breathe heavily. We can never go back from what I say next.
“I dare you to kiss me.” I want to be his first.
He says nothing. Does nothing. He just stares at me, jaw still ticking, body still tense and primed to bolt.
My stomach sinks deeper beneath the dirt the longer he stands there. Oh God, he doesn’t want to. I’ve made a mistake—misread all the signs that he saw something in me; that I could be worth more to him than just sex.
I open my mouth and spew whatever words come to mind to save face. “What? Too scared to do it? Think I’ll bite? Didn’t take you for a quitter—”
Lynx grabs my face and presses his lips to mine. Time stops. The insects stop singing. The wind stops blowing. It isn’t hot or cold or anything between.
I’m not in my body anymore. Whatever or wherever I am, it seems to be lost on me until the barest, almost indiscernible groan rumbles from his chest. Then I come alight. And when my lips move, I swear I hear him whisper, “Finally.”
Every flicker of self-doubt, every ounce of rage, every time I’ve sat seething or crying without tears, it all disappears from my mind as I wrap my arms behind his neck and kiss him back like I’ll die all over again if I don’t—because that’s how he’s kissing me.
Like I’m the first drop of water and the very last, and his final act of survival. Our lips move together as if demons are pounding at the door and this is our last goodbye. He cups the base of my skull and wraps his arm around my back to pull me closer.
A thousand fireworks seem to go off all at once. I didn’t know anything could feel this way.
Lynx pulls away suddenly, stumbling back and glaring at me as he presses his fingers to his lips. I don’t know what’s worse: not being able to tell what he’s thinking, or telling myself he regrets what he did.
“This—” The rasp in his voice is just as sharp as his ragged breaths. “This was just a game.”
And with that, he turns and storms back through the door, taking my dignity and last shred of hope with him, leaving me outside alone in the cold.
He’s lying, I tell myself in the same breath I think that I should’ve never trusted a demon.