Rowan
The past few days have been pure torture and bliss at the same time. I just feel at peace, tangled in Grayson every morning. For once it doesn’t feel like there’s so many unspoken words and feelings between us. Almost everything has been drawn out on the table. Every touch he’s laid on me since I came home with him has been gentle, charged with shameless love. No more questions. I feel safe. Emotionally safe.
“I don’t want to lie to you, Row,” he says as he traces patterns over my skin, the morning light highlighting his sharp features and reflecting off of the bright pools of green in his eyes.
“This weekend has been perfect, please don’t ruin it.” I say jokingly.
“I’m serious. Look,” he starts, but hesitates for a moment. “Your father– he’s alive. ”
I prop myself up on my elbows, waiting for him to explain further.
“Not for long though, I’m handling it.” He continues.
“Woah, wait a second. If he’s alive just leave it alone, Grayson. You said you were done with all of this.” I feel my anger building. I should have known things weren’t going to stay like this.
“I also told you I have one last small job to do.” He retorts.
“Grayson, that’s not small. That’s actually a really fucking big deal.”
He takes my hands in his, and meets my gaze. “I’m not asking you to be okay with it. But he hurt you, he hurt my family. I’m only telling you because I promised myself I’d never lie to you again.”
“Grayson–”
“It's okay, baby. I promise you. But we can’t take any more risks. You don’t need him, Row. You never did. You have me. ”
“I don’t need you either.” I mutter.
He laughs. “I know, tough girl.” Grayson brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “Let me take care of everything. I’ll show you how sorry I am later.”
I spring off of the bed and throw on one of Grayson’s Sullen T-shirts. “Okay, Grayson. Killing my dad is just no big deal. I’ll follow your lead.”
He rises from the bed, following me to the bathroom as I tie my hair in a loose bun. “, I’m sorry it has to be this way–”
“Don’t be. Do what you have to do. I don’t give a fuck about that man.” I’ve tried to care, I really have. After the first time I thought my father was dead, I tried to find it in me to cry, or be sad, or just feel something . Part of me felt sympathy, but it was short lived. I’ve realized through all of this– I don’t feel the empty hole in my chest that I thought having a decent father would fill. It’s gone. Not because I have Grayson, but because I’ve come to terms with the fact that he will never be the father that I want. He’s not just a bad father, he’s a bad man. If taking him off of this earth could save at least one young girl from the skin trade, it's worth it to me. If he could offer his own daughter up, he’d have no qualms about offering up another innocent human being. A huge part of me is just used to giving Grayson hell because of how things started out but in reality, I trust him more than I’ve ever trusted anyone.
“Don’t feel like you have to pretend not to care, Row,” he says, looking at me through the bathroom mirror.
I laugh, more out of frustration than anything. “I literally don’t. I’m just trying to get used to the idea of you killing people like it's a normal desk job, that’s all.”
He sighs. “You don’t have to get used to it. After this I’m done.”
I scoff. “No one who kills people for a living is ever really done .”
“I didn’t kill people for a living, Row. I ran an empire. I just killed people for survival. There’s a difference.”
“So, I’m supposed to just trust that after years of being in the business, you can go on about a normal life?”
“Yes. As much as I hate to tell you this– after years of meaningless sex with random women, I was quick to commit my life to you, . This is no different. ”
I roll my eyes, turning to face Grayson. “Sure. But what happens when the infatuation wears off and you get bored?”
He rests his hands on the counter on either side of me and leans so close to my face that I can smell his worn off cologne mixed with his natural scent. “Impossible. I’m not ‘infatuated’. I’m addicted. Addicts don’t quit their drug of choice out of boredom,” he presses his forehead to mine and locks eyes with me. “So what would make me want to quit, Row?” I think for a moment, feeling uncomfortable at how emotional this feels. “I don’t wash my hands after I pee.”
He leans back, looking down at me with a slight grin. “Gross. But not enough, try again.”
I bite my bottom lip, trying to think of anything I can say to steer him away. “I don’t know, Grayson. Things get repetitive. People get bored. What makes us different?”
He takes a step back. “You’re a cynical little thing, you know. What makes us different? I kidnapped you and you still fell in love with me, Row. I spent an entire year with watching you being my favorite pastime. We’ve spent months apart and yet we still came back to each other.”
“ You made me come back.” I interrupt .
“And how much did I really have to convince you, Row?”
I stand there, silently. Having some sort of insult or snarky comeback is just an impulse I have with Grayson. But in reality, there’s no reason I should be giving him so much pushback anymore. It’s fear. Not fear of Grayson, but fear that my feelings will end up hurting me. The bruises my father left on me always faded, but the pain associated with emotions? That’s not something I’ll be able to ice if things don’t work out. My thought is that– if I never fully open myself up to Grayson, or anyone for that matter, I can at least walk away with some dignity. I’ve been so hot and cold with him it’s a wonder how he’s not mentally exhausted of me.
“I have to go meet Luciano. Try not to overthink everything, okay?” Oh I won’t. I have a better idea.