Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Achilles
PASSENGER PRINCESS– Nessa Barrett
We're mid-flight back to Maryland, eating the lunch prepared by the attendant and debating who’s the most talented violinist of all time, when my phone rings.
I don’t look at it at first, not wanting the talk to end.
Nyx has a soft spot for Paganini, and I’ve been supporting the simple perfection of Heiftz.
"Of course you’d fall for the Devil’s Violinist," I say playfully. "You’re attracted to that shit."
I wink at her, even though she’s narrowing her eyes at me.
"It takes a lot of talent for people to believe you’re so good you must have sold your soul to the Devil."
I nod, biting my lower lip. The tone in her voice is a mix of desire and awe. She really is attracted to things that are terrifying.
My phone rings again, but my gaze stays on her as I pull it out of my pocket. "No need to keep debating. We both know who the best violinist of all time is."
"If you say–"
"Me," I cut her off.
"You’re so predictable."
I look down at my phone and feel my face harden just before I look at Nyx again. She feels the shift, and her soft voice relaxes me.
"Do you need privacy?" she asks.
Her eyes have been heart shaped since I played for her.
Seductive, calling out to me, spoiling me with love.
And since she played for the guys from the philharmonic yesterday, her mood has drastically improved.
She was perfect; they loved it, and they loved her.
I knew she would be perfect. Even though they insisted I be their soloist for the season and Nyx has to finish her two years at SFU, I wanted them to see how magnificent she is.
My phone rings and vibrates in my hand, and Nyx's insistent look brings me back.
I shake my head. "No, but I won't introduce you."
That's the only clue she gets before I pick up.
"Oui, Maman?" Yes, Mom?
I barely have time to register that it isn't my mom's face on the screen when Sophie's little voice whispers through the phone.
"Shh." She giggles. "C'est moi!" It's me! she says much louder, already forgetting she told me to be quiet. "Moi j'ai volé le telephone de Maman, moi." I stole Mom's phone.
I pinch my lips not to laugh, my heart squeezing and proving to me once more that it exists. No one, and I mean no one, outside of Sophie had ever made me feel like my heart is so present. Until Nyx.
The love is different, but fuck, it's strong. Stupidly strong.
"Crapule." I chuckle. "What are you doing with Mom's phone?"
I try to speak English to her as much as I can because my mother doesn't do it, and Sophie’s only been to the US twice. She was born and is growing up in France.
"I miss you, Achilles. I miss you. I miss you." That's about as far as her English goes, but it fucks with me enough that guilt rips through my gut.
The way she says my name in the French way, Ah-sheel, pulls at my heartstrings. Everything dangerous I ever do is for Sophie. Everything my mom expects of me is for her too. She has no idea how hard we're working for her safety.
"I know," I whisper. "I miss you too."
"My papa say no call you." She points the finger at the screen, and I feel a fury like no other at that guy deciding anything. My fingers grip the phone tighter, and there's no hiding my true feelings.
"Donne le telephone à Maman," I say with a smile on my face. Give the phone to Mom.
"J'ai peur. Tu fais peur!" she answers in a squeak. I'm scared. You're scary!
I take a deep breath, knowing my smile isn't reassuring at all, so I drop it.
"Just give the phone to Mom, please, my love."
There's running, a blurred screen, some surprise noises in French. And then my mother appears.
"Achilles? C'est toi qui a appelé?" Achilles, are you the one who called?
"Yeah," I lie. "Go to another room."
I see her looking around, telling Sophie to go get ready for bed, and finally, she focuses on me.
"Alone?" I double-check.
She nods.
I'm up in a split second, words spitting like fire from my mouth. Nyx is so shocked, she plasters herself against her seat, wide eyes following me as I pace the plane.
"Don't you ever let that motherfucker order Sophie around again, you hear me? He has no right over anything she does. And if I learn she's following any of his rules, you can kiss your return to this town goodbye, am I fucking clear?"
"Calm down, I—"
"I still talk to Dad for you, to protect you, and this is what you teach her behind my back? That she's not allowed to call me?"
"Martin had to tell her that because she'll always try, and we know it's dangerous. What if you're with your dad when she calls with my phone? What if he sees her?"
I run a hand across my face, all the way to my hair and messing with what's already untameable.
"I don't care. I don't care. I don't fucking care," I hiss. "I want access to her, and I want her to call me whenever she needs. I'm not stupid enough to ever pick up a call from you when I'm with Dad."
I swallow thickly, looking up as I feel my anger getting the best of me. I eye Nyx, realizing she hasn’t missed a single word of this conversation. Maybe I should’ve asked for privacy. Maybe we're not at a stage where she can know everything about me.
"I'm her big brother." I huff, calming down. "I want her to know she can reach me whenever she needs."
My mother looks away, and I understand we weren't alone. Martin, her new husband, was with her the whole time. She lied to me for him.
"Let me remind you of something." My voice is low, my lungs shaking. "The last time you had a husband you lied for, who wouldn't give you privacy, and who took control over your children, you had to exile yourself to a different country to escape him. Try to act responsibly for once."
I hang up on her but don't turn back to Nyx yet. There's going to be questions, and this isn’t what I wanted after the magical moments we had in New York.
When I finally turn around, she's eating calmly, reading my concerto again, and she gives me a quick smile before going back to the paper.
It's not until we're both finished with our breakfasts that she says, "How old is Sophie?"
"Four," I answer in what feels like slow motion, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"That's nice. I always wanted a sister. But, well, you know, you kind of need a mom for that." She laughs softly, but the sadness in it lands right in my chest.
"How old were you when your mom left?" I ask.
She smiles, welcoming my question. "Seven."
"And you've had no news since? Did you ever look for her?" The offer comes automatically. "Do you want me to find her?"
This time, her laugh is genuine. "No, thank you.
I don't want to look for her because she clearly doesn't want to be found anyway.
My mom always complained about us being poor, more than she did about my dad's addiction.
She wanted big, shiny things. If anything, she was like me, dreamed of getting out. She just did it in a different way."
"You did get out."
Freezing for a few seconds, she only blinks at me before she says honestly, "I don't want me getting out to be related to you." She swirls her index finger in the air. "All of this is you. It could be temporary, for all I know. I'll consider myself ex-North Shore when I've made it by myself."
"What I feel for you isn't temporary," I correct her. "It's not going away any time soon." My eyes dart to the concerto, catching some notes. "Do you ever miss her?"
"No," she answers easily. "She was never a good mom, whatever that means. She wasn't a mom at all. As far as I remember, my dad always assumed both roles. That's why I'm never going to let him down. Even if he's ill. Then Kayla took care of me when my dad was too unwell."
She smiles reassuringly, and I don't see the question coming until she's made me feel relaxed enough by sharing her own past. Which I'm sure was the plan all along.
"When did your mom leave?"
My head falls back as I bite my lower lip, trying to stop myself from smiling at how smart she is.
"You're good, aren't you?"
"You don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable with, Achilles. I didn't."
"I got things out of you that you didn't want to share. I used different means than you, that's it."
"Maybe I was just waiting for someone to get them out of me."
"Nyx," I say sternly. "You're excusing behavior you shouldn't. I did things to you that you can't excuse."
She cocks an eyebrow. "I'm not. Firstly, because I can't forgive someone who never asked for forgiveness.
Secondly, I don't need to excuse everything in my life to move forward.
I don't need to forget and forgive. I don't need revenge.
I don't need any of that to love. I can love people who hurt me because I see past it.
Maybe because I put them before me, and maybe one day I'll wake up and realize I was only hurting myself all along.
But this is where I'm at. I see the good in those who aren't always good. Even those who are rarely good, like you or my dad. I love my father even after everything he’s put me through.
The truth is, I even miss him." She looks me dead in the eyes when she adds, "And I love you.
That's my choice. I don't need yours or anyone else's judgement. "
"I'm not judg—"
"You were judging me. You think after everything you did to me that I shouldn't love you. That I'd be stupid to. Why don't you worry about the choices you make and let me worry about mine. I do what feels right for me. Do the same."
What I'd give to have the bravery Nyx Mayer carries within herself.
"Okay," I whisper. "I'll do what feels right. I want to tell you things."
"What things?"
It's her silence that nudges me. She’s not waiting, just giving me all the time I need. And it’s not being forced that gets me to talk.
I run my tongue across my teeth, taking a second to figure out which I want to say first.
"I miss Sophie. I miss her all day, every day. There's a hole in my heart knowing that she's growing up, has a life, and I'm not in it."
Her face falls, because I don't think that's what she expected first. That kind of vulnerability is a lot to swallow.
"Why can't you be in her life?"
"Because…" I suck in a slow, deep breath.
"Because it took everything for my mom to escape my dad.
He's powerful, he's controlling, he's abusive.
He hurt her. He hurt all of us. She got away, and she can't come back.
It's too risky, especially when he's got the backing of the Circle and she's got nothing. "
She takes a moment to process the mess of words I blurted out. They're barely sentences because I'm not used to saying those things out loud.
"Your mom left for France because she was escaping your dad." She reconnects the dots. "When was that?"
"The summer after I graduated high school. I left with her. The divorce was messy. He did everything in his power to find her and to stop it from happening. But all he could do was find me while I studied in Paris. Mom lives somewhere else."
Her eyebrows pinch together when I don't tell her where my mother is. It's not that I don't trust her, but my dad has ways of getting information out of people. I can't risk it.
"But they came back. I saw them on the North Shore, that day behind the diner."
"Yeah, my dad was on a trip to China. I sent the jet to Paris and back. They didn't even stay the night. My mom was too scared."
"And Sophie is four."
I nod.
"So she could be your dad's?"
"It doesn't matter whose she is. He can't find her. He could hurt her. That man has no limits." I pause, my heart picking up. "What if he…" But I lose myself in the question. No matter how badly I want Nyx to have the answer, just like she's had the answers to all my other pains.
Her presence, her soul, her pureness, cannot fix everything.
When I look up, her eyes are wide as saucers.
"Achilles…"
"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to," I warn her.
She's braver than me, facing the horror head on. "Is your father the one who assaulted you?"
"Can you live with the answer? Knowing everything?"
"I can live with anything you throw my way, as long as you feel safe doing so."
The shock renders me speechless. What kind of angel is she? And who put her in my path? Who can love through everything? Nyx has the capability of loving unconditionally, of dreaming without limits, of always hoping for something better to come.
"I was nine," I blurt out. But it's defensive. "I didn't know what it was, or what it meant. I didn't understand, okay?"
Leaving her seat, she steps close to mine and kneels in front of me. As she takes my hand, I realize how cold my extremities are.
"You never, ever have to justify anything when it comes to this."
My nostrils flare, my throat narrowing. Not because I talked about it. I've lived with that moment my entire life. It brings anger but no pain anymore. But because I'm scared. I'm scared of losing her. Isn't she disgusted by me?
"It isn't possible to still love someone knowing what you know, Nyx."
She shakes her head, smiling so beautifully I almost don't notice the tears in her eyes.
"There's no stronger love than the one that comes once you know the darkest parts of someone. You know mine, don't you?"
I nod.
"And?"
I lean forward, holding her face between my hands.
"And I love you so much that, for the first time, life feels worth living rather than surviving."
My lips skim over hers as she murmurs in a challenge, "Then live it."
I press my mouth so hard against hers that she falls back, and I follow, crushing her body underneath mine.
"This is mine," I growl as I devour her mouth in burning kisses. "Not just your body, Nyx. Not only your soul or mind. This." I wrap my hand around her throat, obsession taking over me. "Your love."
"It's yours," she moans against my lips. "Cherish it."
"I'm going to worship it, mon trésor."