Chapter Eleven #2
How does he know it's my birthday? Why go to all this trouble for me?
I feel Silas's hands fall from my waist. "Fuck," he curses to himself under his breath. "I knew this was a stupid idea. Who would want to celebrate their birthday with someone like me? I just kept you in a locked room all day." He moves to step around me towards the table.
I can't let him go. I reach out and grasp his forearm, my fingers curling tightly around his arm.
"I would." My voice cracks and I clear my throat. "I've never had anyone do something like this for me. My mom is the only family I ever knew, and it’s not like she was winning any mother of the year awards. She was always too drunk or high to even be bothered to feed or bathe me. Birthdays weren’t exactly a priority.”
I pause, my eyes meeting Silas’s. "I didn’t even know when my birthday was until I started school.
I was in kindergarten, and one day we all came back into the room after recess to find cupcakes and little cups of punch sitting at the tables we shared.
A birthday hat and a new pencil sat on the table where my chair was.
Up until that point, I thought birthdays were something other kids had. I never knew I had one too.
That day after school my teacher pulled me aside while all the other kids left.
She gave me a bag with shampoo, soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes, and a hairbrush.
It was the bare necessities. The things parents make sure their kids have on a daily basis.
I remember her telling me she couldn't afford gifts for every student, but she knew I needed those things more than the rest of the students. That’s when I realized my life at home wasn’t normal, and neither was I. "
"I—"
"I would," I repeat, interrupting Silas before he could say another word.
I wave my hand towards the table. "I was never this important.
Just a mistake my mom never figured out how to get rid of.
The next pill, the next fix, the next drink—always came before me.
Even without the present or the cake, to me, just knowing you knew it was my birthday…
" I tighten my grip on his forearm. "I would. "
Silas stares at me in silence for a few moments, almost lost for words. Then he removes his arm from my grip and gestures to the table. "I would too."
I make my way over to the table, pulling out one of the heavy wooden chairs to take a seat. When I look behind me, Silas isn't there like I expected. He's reaching into the cooler by the door and pulling out a beer.
"Shouldn't you be keeping me within arm's reach? I could start running and take off at any minute," I challenge him, careful to keep my tone playful.
He turns around to face me, one eyebrow arched in question. He twists the cap off of the beer in his hand, tossing the cap onto the table while giving me a cocky grin .
"Don't threaten me with a good time. You can run all you want, and when I find you, because I'll always find you—I'll stripe your ass red for running then bring you back home. If any part of that sounds fun to you, by all means Princess… run. I'm game."
His words should make me angry, but instead, they make my stomach flutter, low in my belly. "I think I'll wait until after we eat. Whatever this is smells really good."
Silas throws his head back and laughs. The sunlight highlighting his features.
The light catches his eyes just right making their unique color more noticeable.
They are a light brown like the color of amber liquor.
Dark brown hair falls gently around his face.
The sides are shaved short, gradually faded to show a hint of skin, while the top is longer, and slicked back while at work.
Now, after a long day, his hair is slightly mussed, the longer strands falling casually over the shaved sides.
My gaze moves down to the hint of stubble accentuating his perfect lips and defined jawline.
His tie is gone, and the top buttons of his white dress shirt are open, revealing the strong muscles of his neck and the tattoos that peak out above his collar.
Silas is undeniably attractive, but in this moment, as he stands here laughing, a carefree expression on his face, he's absolutely gorgeous.
I jerk back, startled, when fingers snap in front of my face. I feel my eyes widen as I realize I’ve been zoned out, lost in my thoughts of Silas. "Char, are you okay?"
"S-sorry," I stammer, stumbling over my words. I feel my cheeks heat in embarrassment. "Did you say something?"
"Yes, I asked what you wanted to do first. Present, cake, food—whatever you want. It’s your call, birthday girl."
I take a steadying breath, my gaze flicking to the bottle of beer in his hand. "I think… I would like one of those beers, please."
"Char…" he says my name in warning, as if I’ve taken a step too far .
I shrug, "You said whatever I wanted. It was my choice, and I’m choosing."
I can see the reluctance on his face. "You might be 18 now, but legally, you aren't allowed to drink."
"It isn't exactly legal to murder someone and then burn their home down either,” I say, meeting his eyes.
“But you didn't seem to be concerned with the law when you asked for my help with that.
Seems a bit hypocritical if you ask me." I try to suppress a smirk as I watch him, his expression shifting as he realizes I have a point.
Silas places his elbows on the table and rubs his face with both hands as if he's completely exasperated with me, but I can see the amused look he's hiding. "I try to do something nice and let you have a little fun on your birthday, and you still have to bust my balls."
I snort out a laugh, feeling a sense of satisfaction at his reaction. "This wouldn't be nearly as entertaining for me if I didn't. Unfortunately for you, Princess agreeable-Charlotte left the building when the cuffs came out."
He leans back in his chair; a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth and shakes his head. "Touché. You’ve made your case. Is drinking something you do often?"
I shake my head. "Never.” I pause, nervous and unsure if admitting this makes me seem childish to him.
“I don't really have any friends, so I never went out to parties or hung out with people my own age.
There were opportunities I could have drank at home if I wanted to.
Drugs and cheap liquor were always around, thanks to the parade of losers my mom brought home.
I never did though. I thought about it a lot.
There were times I would have given anything just to forget about life and escape reality for a while.
But I could never risk it. Not with the strange men in and out of the house all hours of the day and night.
It wasn't just about the men," I continue.
"If something would have happened to me, my mother wouldn't have cared.
No one would have noticed. I never felt safe enough at home to let my guard down.
Not until now, like I do here… with you.
" The words are out before I can stop them, and I feel a rush of embarrassment heat my cheeks.
I glance up at Silas, suddenly self-conscious.
His eyes narrow slightly, and his expression is unreadable as he studies me.
Then, without a word, he gets up from the table and walks over to the cooler.
I watch him, my heart pounding in my chest, worried I've said too much.
When he returns, he sets two bottles on the table.
"Go slow," he says, his voice a soft, low rumble.
"I want you to be able to enjoy your birthday, but I don't want you getting sick either.
You need to eat dinner. No drinking on an empty stomach.
If you start feeling sick, you let me know right away.
I don't clean up vomit. I'll chain your ass to the toilet for the night if I have to. "
I smile at his threat. "I didn't think you'd be squeamish about a little vomit after what I saw you do to Corey.”
"Everyone has their limits, Char." He begins opening takeout containers. "You seemed to enjoy the Chinese food we had, so I thought we would continue our culinary world tour for your birthday. Tonight, we’re visiting Mexico."
A smile spreads across my face at his effort to create a sense of normalcy in the midst of our messed up situation. Then again, it’s probably much more messed up that today has been the most normal birthday I’ve ever experienced. It would be almost comical if it wasn’t so damn sad.
It's hard to believe that the sweet, thoughtful man sitting across from me, offering me a birthday feast, is the same man I witnessed taking someone's life without an ounce of hesitation.
It's as if his body is merely a vessel containing two contrasting versions of himself—two completely different souls, both fighting for dominance.
One side is protective and strong, yet still gentle, surrounded by a lightness that draws you to him.
While the other is cloaked in darkness and violence .
"I ordered a little bit of everything. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, and I figured you might not know yourself.
" He begins lining up the containers in front of me, one by one.
As he opens each container, he tells me what is inside.
"So what we have here is chimichangas, chile rellenos, enchiladas, taquitos, and of course, tacos. "
My mouth waters. "It all looks delicious. I think the chile rellenos may have been what smelled so good and kept me from running away."
"You should try these first then." Silas slowly slides the container with the chile rellenos across the wooden table until it is sitting directly in front of me.
They smell amazing, the aroma of the roasted peppers and melted cheese makes my stomach growl.
He then twists the cap off the bottle before offering it to me.