21. Nix
21
NIX
It’s like walking on eggshells until Leni falls asleep, curled up in the middle of the bed. Even now, she doesn’t seem peaceful—frowning, clenching her fists, and tucking them under her chin like she needs to defend herself even in her sleep. Like she’s afraid monsters will haunt her. Monsters with our faces, maybe.
We went too far. That’s clear. We lost control, pushed her too far and she paid the price for it.
Colt seems satisfied to leave her alone now that she’s settled in, and I follow him out of the bedroom, leaving the door open a crack just in case she needs something.
“You hungry?” he asks, detouring into the kitchen. Right—we did sort of skip dinner. My stomach growls at the idea of food.
“Yeah, I could eat,” I reply, sitting down at the counter and watching him go through the freezer. He pulls out a pair of frozen containers of macaroni and cheese, and I know what’s coming as he slaps them onto the spinning glass plate in the microwave. His body language isn’t just speaking for him. It’s screaming.
He turns around, arms folded, and leans against the stove while staring at the gleaming wood floor. It’s not like I didn’t know he’d be concerned after what we just witnessed, but there’s something about the way his jaw ticks that tells me it goes beyond concern. I can almost hear his teeth grinding.
“She’ll be okay,” I offer. I mean, what else can I say? And I know it’s the truth—I’m not making shit up to help him feel better or anything like that. She will be okay. It might take a little time, but time heals everything... or so they say.
Though it won’t heal my face. But that’s something I need to get over. I touch a hand to my cheek without thinking, remembering when the skin was smooth. It’s amazing how much we take for granted every day. I’m a philosopher, all of a sudden.
“Will she? Because I don’t know.” He glances at me briefly before looking back at the floor. “Sometimes I wonder if we didn’t break her for good.”
“She’s strong. And we’re here to help her.”
I already know it was the wrong thing to say before he snorts. “Oh, yeah. We really helped her back there. You could tell by the way she was screaming. She’s processing things in a healthy way.”
“Okay, we didn’t know it was going to set her off like that.”
“That’s the thing.” He takes a slow, shaky breath. “I should have known.”
“What, are you a mind reader now? You’re being too hard on yourself.”
“You don’t get it.” He shakes his head, looking angry. “You haven’t been here all this time. We spent these months getting to know each other better, learning to live together, building something. Or I thought we were, anyway.”
I don’t know anything about that. I don’t know how he feels. I don’t know what it’s like to build a relationship, to learn to trust each other—all that happy horseshit. “I know from all the things you emailed me that you’ve been trying really hard to learn how to give her what she needs. That’s worth something. Don’t forget how hard you’ve tried.”
“It’s not enough. Obviously. I don’t know if it ever will be.”
I’m starting to understand what he’s hinting at. “What are you saying? Do you want to break up with her?”
When he lifts a shoulder and looks away from me, something snaps in my head. It shouldn’t, but it does, and it takes patience I didn’t know I had to keep from climbing over the counter and shaking him until his neck snaps. “You fucking coward.”
“Very nice.” Smirking, he gives me a thumbs up. “Way to make me feel better.”
“You’re not the one who has to feel better right now. She is. This is supposed to be about her, right? But all you can do is stand there and feel sorry for yourself.”
“I really don’t need a lecture from you.”
“Did I ask? No, just hear me out,” I mutter when his mouth opens like he’s ready to argue. “You can tell yourself all you want that you’re trying to do the right thing by her, but we didn’t meet yesterday. You’re scared. You don’t think you have what it takes to make her happy, to make her feel safe and secure and all that. So you figure you should leave her alone, like that’s the best way to help her.”
“You’re wrong.” His eyes narrow, and a flush creeps up his neck as he lifts his lip in a snarl. “What the fuck would you know about it? You sail in here after hiding for months, and now you have all the answers? You give me shit about running away when that’s all you keep talking about. Running away.”
“It’s not the same thing, so don’t even try it.”
“Oh, please. It’s exactly the same thing.” If he raises his voice any louder, she’ll wake up.
I hold a finger in front of my mouth. “You know I had my own reasons for staying away.”
“Yeah. You ran away because you were scared, just like you’re accusing me of being.”
You’d think he would be more careful around somebody he watched commit murder a few days ago. “There’s a big difference between you being a pussy who’s afraid to try to help your girlfriend and staying away so you don’t attract attention and pull people you care about into your bullshit. Totally different.”
“I’m no good for her!” How can a whisper sound like a scream? It does, and I hear the agony in it, just like I see it on his face. I think I’m finally starting to understand. This is someplace neither of us has ever been before. Like landing on an alien planet without the first clue how to survive.
“Why is she still with you?” I ask. “Don’t you think she knows who’s good for her and who isn’t?”
“Right now? No, I don’t think she knows,” he admits. His hands flex—a sort of desperate gesture. “Because something happened in there that I don’t know what to think about.”
When he keeps me waiting, I have to ask, “Are you going to tell me what it was, or do I have to guess? There’s still another five minutes on the food, so I guess we have time.”
“You think this is a joke? Do you really?” I can’t remember the last time he looked at me with so much disgust. Maybe he never has before—not even after he watched me kill two people in that warehouse. “I’m trying to tell you something I don’t know how to say, and all you can do is bust my balls?”
“Okay.” Folding my hands, I nod. “What is it? What do you want to say?”
“I liked it.” With his head hung and his eyes on the floor, he mutters, “I liked watching you hit her the way you did. When everything changed, you know? I liked it too much.”
“I hear you. If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“And you don’t think that’s wrong?” When he lifts his gaze, the agony in his eyes knocks the breath out of my lungs. He really means it, and now I’m wondering if I should feel the way he does. Is there something wrong with me that I don’t?
But it’s not like I ever have. I can’t pretend. “Do you want to know why I stayed away as long as I did? That’s one of the reasons, and I’m not just saying it now to defend myself. I like it too much when I’m using her. When I’m hurting her. That’s why I came here and tied her up that night—I waited for days to get the chance to be alone up here with her. Because more than anything, I craved the feeling I used to get when we were using her and dominating her.”
Now I can’t look at him. Instead, I stare down at my folded hands, clenched on the countertop. “It’s like being an addict. It’s always there, no matter what I’m doing, no matter what’s happening around me. I want to have her under my control again. I never feel as alive as I do when she’s at my mercy. I don’t know if it’s something I was born with or something I was taught, but I can’t get it out of my head.”
Glancing up at him, I add, “Which is a big reason why I stayed away all this time. Believe me, don’t believe me, it doesn’t matter. It’s the truth. Staying away from her was the only way I could think to protect her from me. Because look what happens when I’m with her.”
I point down the hall, grinding my teeth when I remember the way she shrieked and sobbed. “That’s all I can give her. And you want me to stay? Really, think about it. You love her? Then you should keep me away from her.”
I’m almost surprised when he goes quiet, like he’s thinking about it. I would expect him to talk over me, to tell me how I’m feeling instead of listening and trying to understand. Being understanding isn’t exactly something either of us has a lot of practiced with.
“I feel that way too sometimes. I’ve told you that. In my emails?” Yes, he did, and I nod slowly. “I ask myself how I’m supposed to learn how to be good to her when our whole past was made up of how much we could hurt her. And I’ve doubted myself so many times, today included—maybe most of all,” he adds, frowning and clenching his fists again. For a second, I’m sure he’s going to hit something, but he swallows back the urge. “Because I love her. I should be trying to protect her from anything that would make her fall apart the way she did. But there I was, almost ready to blow my load when things got serious.”
Am I an asshole for feeling better about myself now that he said that? “What are you going to do about it? Do you think we could learn to be different?”
He doesn’t hesitate for a second. “Fuck, yeah, I do. I’m not some powerless loser, and neither are you. Unless that’s who you want to be.”
“You know I don’t.”
He squares his shoulders and tightens his jaw. I know that look. He’s making up his mind about something. “Okay. So what do you do? You take control of yourself. Both of us. That’s all we can do. It’ll be one day at a time, but we can both handle it, because otherwise, the only answer is leaving her, and I won’t do that. I’m not living without her.”
I know he means it, just like I know he’s right about taking control. I don’t know where to start. That’s the problem. One of many problems.
“Don’t forget, she was already stressed out about those bodies going missing.” He rubs his jaw, groaning. “I mean, no wonder she freaked out. She has so much on her mind, and I can’t convince her to relax.”
“Yeah, I guess we didn’t help things. You know her better than I do now. What should we do?”
“We have to be gentle with her.” I don’t mean to frown when he says it, but at least he chuckles. “I know. I’m not good at being gentle, either. But it’s what she needs.”
“But what about later, in the future? She’s seeing a therapist, right?”
“Yeah, that’s where she was leaving when those assholes took her.” The growl in his voice is nothing compared to the heat that explodes in my chest when I remember watching from across the street, feeling helpless and useless. “But there’s gotta be stuff we can do for her here, at home. Just so she’ll feel more secure.”
I have to say it. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
“What, did you think I was lying?”
“No, I’m just saying you’re obviously out for whatever is best for her. That’s good to see.”
“What about you?”
The microwave couldn’t beep at a better time. Talk about a loaded question. Where do I even start trying to answer? I have to search my feelings, not something I usually like to do. But I know him—if I try to shrug off the question, he’ll only double down until I have to answer him or kill him.
“I care about her,” I decide by the time he slides a plastic container of steaming mac and cheese in front of me. At least stirring it around to cool it off gives me something to do while I try not to choke on my words. “I mean, obviously. Why else would I stay away to protect her if I didn’t care?”
“Then you’ll help me try to get her through this?”
Shit. Dropping the fork, I hit him with a stare that makes him snicker. “So that’s how it is? You’re going to use her to get me to stay? When I just got done telling you, she’s a big part of the reason I was hiding?”
“You can handle it. You’re Nix fucking Alistair. And look what you already did. You escaped the fire, you snuck out of the hospital before anybody could figure out who you were, you found a way to make yourself untraceable. So what, you can’t learn how to be a better person? I don’t believe that.”
But all he did was take me back to the question—the fear—at the center of everything. “What if there’s no way to control this? Would you ask a cancer patient to control their tumor with like, positive thinking?”
“I think you’re taking it too far.”
“I don’t think I am.” Since I can’t stab him, I stab some of the noodles with my fork, not that it helps. “Look at where we came from. He was obviously seriously fucked in the head. What if there’s no way to change? What if this is who we are, and that’s it?”
“What if it’s not? What if we can decide who we are? Besides,” he continues before I can say a word, “we didn’t only come from Dad, did we? There was somebody else. We came from Mom, too, and she’s a good person.”
It’s funny. I want to be annoyed with him for being right, but I can’t when his words actually make me feel a little better. “I didn’t think about it that way.”
“I didn’t think you would. That’s why I’m here to do the thinking for you.”
That, I would always expect from him. “Okay, since you have all the answers, what comes next? Where do we go from here?”
“Keep going like everything’s normal,” he decides, eating slowly, thoughtfully. “Give her space, be gentle with her.”
“Me, gentle?” I know we’ve been talking about learning how to be different, but that seems like a lot to ask.
“You’ll get the hang of it.” He smirks. “I’m here if you need help getting your shit together. Sort of like one of those sponsors in AA. You’re feeling weak, come to me.”
I’m about to laugh at him when he pulls out the big guns. “And if that doesn’t work, just ask yourself what Mom would think.”
Well, shit. “Better than a cold shower, I bet,” I murmur.
“I bet it is.” Sounds like he’s joking, but there’s intensity in his eyes, boring holes through me. “You can do it. We both can.”
I know he’s right… even if it doesn’t quite feel that way. Even if I doubt myself.