Chapter 25 Silva #4
When her head raised at last, turning her face to his, it was his turn to capture her lips, his turn to kiss her, five years’ worth of urgency in that kiss, heat and hurt, lips and teeth and tongue, leaving her panting when they broke apart again.
Tate was shuddering. Silva remembered belatedly that he could barely breathe as it was. He’s going to wind up asphyxiating and this time, it’ll be your fault.
He leaned in again, so slowly, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, to her temple, to her forehead, his eyes closed and his breath ragged as he pressed his forehead to hers.
“You need to go home, Silva.”
Silva opened her eyes. When she pulled back, she could see it in his eyes, that wrong-headed conviction that he was being noble, that he was doing the right thing. He’d killed for her. Fought to get back to her side. He loved her. Told her as much.
And he was still willing to watch her walk out the door for good.
“Didn’t they give you anything to put on that eye? It looks terrible.”
The look he gave her was one of exhaustion. She could tell he wanted to argue, wanted to push the point and make her leave . . . but he didn’t.
“Aye. It fell and rolled under the bed.” Even his voice was pitiful. He gingerly lifted the long device on the bed beside him. “I can’t bend over. All I have is a grabber, so it’s gone forever.” He pulled the trigger on the device, making the mouth open and close like a crocodile.
She choked out a laugh, retrieving the tube from beneath the bed. The silence set heavy between them as she steadied herself, dabbing carefully at the revolting-looking wound beneath his eyes.
“I got married after you left,” she started, keeping her hands busy, lightly coating the abrasions on his face with the slick, slightly foul-smelling ointment.
“I didn’t know what else to do. I felt trapped.
I moved away from my home, from my family, from my whole community, because I couldn’t bear to be here without you.
You were in every corner, everywhere I turned. ”
“Silva—”
“No, shut up. I’m tired of hearing from you.
Just shut up and see if you’re capable of listening for a change.
I looked for you for two years, Tate. I did everything I could.
I risked my life. I risked my marriage. I did things I don’t even want to admit to you.
I would have kept looking for you forever. ”
She broke off, her voice failing as she recalled that day in Spring, when she’d nearly lost Aelin in that golden-lit forest. Her tears nearly choked her, pausing until the moment passed.
“But I couldn’t. Because my little girl needed me more, and I couldn’t risk her life for yours anymore than I already had. So I had to put you away and put her first. But if she hadn’t been born, I’d probably still be looking.”
The loading of the dumpster at the back of the building was the only sound for several minutes. She found the stash of gauze pads on the table beside the bed, deciding the hole beneath his eye should remain covered. To his credit, Tate remained silent as she did so.
“And then she was there, and she was so perfect. She saved me from myself. She’s so sweet and clever, but she needs me for everything.
Me. I’m all she has. Every day I have to wake up and brush my fucking teeth and not waste away, because she needs me to make her breakfast and brush her hair and put on her shoes.
It didn’t matter how sad I was or how much I missed you, because she needed me more. ”
Silva paused again. She had debated with herself over how she would tell him. Showing up on his doorstep with Aelin in tow would have done the trick. One look and he would know . . . but she wouldn’t do that to her daughter. Not until she knew what he was planning to do.
“But the timing didn’t make sense, and she didn’t look like my husband .
. . doesn’t look like me, not really. They knew something wasn’t right.
” She paused, eyes filling with tears again.
“And she does things that I can’t explain.
She doesn’t blink, and she talks to trees .
. . Do you have any idea how hard it was knowing my little girl was growing up without a father who loved her?
There was someone there, but not someone who cared.
And every day I wished there was someone who would understand .
. . but all she had was me. And I had to do what was best for her. ”
That elicited an emotion she recognized.
It wasn’t dissimilar to the way he’d looked that night at the club in Bridgeton, when she’d argued with her ex.
Good. She’d captured his full attention now, the story he’d concocted in his head melting away.
Silva wondered if the truth was harder for him to bear. His golden eyes were lit with misery.
“I left because I didn’t want her to grow up thinking that it was okay.
I didn’t want her to grow up thinking she needed to make herself small and pretend to be someone she’s not.
I’ve been doing it my whole life, and that’s not the life I want for her.
So we came here until I could find somewhere for us to live, for her to have a real home.
I’ve worn that fucking ring like a shackle every day so that I don’t lose it, because I have to give it back to him in our unbinding.
So you’ll excuse me if I’m not really interested in hearing how happy you are for me.
I’m not interested in hearing what you think is best for me, Tate. You don’t get to make that choice.”
Silence overtook the apartment.
Outside, Greenbridge Glen was waking fully. The businesses didn’t see the same amount of traffic midweek as they did the weekend, and it wasn’t yet the high season.
“She looks so much like you . . .”
She thought of Aelin waking, back in Cambric Creek. She could pop into the little shop down the street and bring her home a jug of cider as a treat.
“Will you ever be able to forgive me, dove?”
There was something in his voice, an empty hollowness that told her he didn’t expect an answer, not truly. At least, not one in the affirmative. Tate looked as miserable as she’d been without him those first two endless years. Good.
“I left the night we went to that wedding. I had five days before my watch stopped ticking. And here you are, married and already left the poor bastard. Everyone told me you were a heartbreaker. I just didn’t listen.”
Silva choked out another laugh, using her sleeve to wipe her tears away.
“Does she know?” His voice had dropped, barely a whisper once more.
“She doesn’t know anything. That’s not her burden to bear. She knew Tannar wasn’t that interested in her . . . but he wasn’t that interested in me either, once she was born. So it wasn’t something that stood out. She hasn’t asked about him a single time since we left, and I’m glad for it.”
“Not interested.” His voice was a scrape of disbelief, pushing himself back up.
“How could he not be fucking interested? What kind of fucking muppet isn’t interested in his beautiful wife and child?
Not interested. You’re not interested in a colonoscopy.
I’m not particularly interested in the history of a dish sponge.
The woman who gives you a child is the most interesting bleedin’ thing in the fuckin’ world.
Where the fuck do you keep finding these worthless cunts, Silva? ”
For a long moment, she could say nothing, her shoulders shaking in laughter. Where, indeed. She hadn’t laughed like this in five long years. The thought was sobering.
“How old is she?” His voice had gone quiet again.
“She’s just three.”
“Three years old.” His voice was wretched.
Silva knew what he was thinking. Three years of birthdays that he’d missed.
Her first words. Her first steps. Her first scraped knee that he’d not been there to kiss.
The first time a tree told her a mean story.
Silva had no doubt that Tate would know the proper way to tell off a tree.
An accumulation of small, sacred things, moments time had stolen, moments he’d not get back.
“Five days.” She captured his hand from where it was fisting the coverlet.
“Five fucking years.”
Silva didn’t want to forgive him. She wanted him to suffer and ache as she had all this time, wanted him to understand what the distance had done to her.
She felt as if a part of her heart had been cleaved away, torn by his teeth and the wound had gaped, bleeding freely, for two long, endless years.
Aelin was the only reason the bleeding had stanched, eventually.
She wanted to rip him open, to cut out a chunk of his heart; wanted to mash it into the hole he’d left in hers so that she might feel whole again, wanted to drip in his blood until she felt warm . . . but without him, she’d not have her daughter. And he’d already missed so much.
“What’s gone is gone. But you have to make a choice on what happens next, Tate. Are you back? Or did you come home? Because if you think this is going to be halfway, you’re wrong.”
“Silva—”
“No,” she cut him off, shaking her head. “This isn’t a negotiation. I’m not the same elf you left five years ago. You might not like who I’ve become.”
“No, you are,” he insisted. Her spine shivered when his hand raised, cupping her face.
“You are, Silva. This is who you’ve always been, dove, just under the surface.
It’s the version I always liked best.” His thumb traced over the apple of her cheek, curving around her lip, catching the tear that fell.
“Well . . . you say that now.”
His laugh was a pained huff at her temple, turning her head up and capturing her lips. Silva leaned into the kiss. She never wanted to let him go again . . . but right now, it was what she needed to do. It was her turn to pull away first.
“I’m going home. And you’re going to decide what you want to do.
” She pulled back just enough to meet his eye once more, kissing his scraped knuckles.
“I’ll love you forever. But if you can’t be good for her, then you’re not good for me.
You told me that very first weekend we met that your family legacy was getting some naive girl pregnant and then abandoning them both.
” She held his eye as she shrugged, nearly able to feel the fire jumping in their golden depths as he zeroed in on her words.
“So far, you’ve done a great job keeping tradition.
I don’t care if that’s fair or not. The situation is what it is.
If you want her to call you daddy, you have to earn that. She’s had enough upheaval.”
A tiny voice in her head was furious with her, little fists beating the sides of her brain, screaming that for two years, all she wanted was this reunion. It’s only a reunion if he’s planning to stay.
“Silva—” His voice was pained, his eyes full of tears again as his fingers tightened around her wrist, but he was injured and she shrugged him off easily.
“I’ll be back later this week so you can meet her.
But you need to decide first. Are you back?
Or did you come home? Because if you’re not home for good, forever, then you need to hurry up and leave.
And don’t ever come back. You don’t get to decide what’s best for me anymore, Tate.
You’re making this choice for yourself. Make the right one. I’ll be back in a few days.”