CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX #2
“Anyway,” I continue, looking him in the eyes, “I think it’s time that you used me. As bait.”
“Bait.”
He repeats the word like he doesn’t understand the meaning of it, but I know he does.
And I also know he didn’t like me using it.
Still, I forge ahead: “Yes. This whole thing started because they wanted me. Me, not your sister. They took your sister because they wanted you to follow their orders. And no, we don’t know why they wanted you to do this, or why they want me, even.
Maybe it has something to do with my father or maybe there’s more to the story; I don’t know.
We could keep guessing and we could keep looking into things.
But none of that is going to bring your sister back. Only I can do it. Me. So use me.”
I see the muscle in his cheek ticking and pulsing, but if I let myself think about it too much, I won’t be able to make my case, so I ignore it and continue, “I see why you’d be reluctant to use me.
Like you did before, I mean. It’s because you don’t blame me for what my father did, not anymore.
You told me that. So you don’t think it’s fair to put me in harm’s way.
And after knowing you for all these weeks, I know you have strong morals and a strong set of principles.
I appreciate that. But last time, you were able to make contact with him, right?
You were able to get some information, so you could do the same now too.
And the time’s running out. You said so yourself on the phone, and we’re still missing something.
It’s me. I can be your missing piece. And look”—I thrust up my hands and shift on my feet to stop him before he can say something and derail my whole speech—“this time, I know I’m going to be bait.
Which means, I’ll be alert. I won’t be scared.
I’ll know you’re coming for me. And not only you, but the whole Grayson family, my brother too.
You’re all working together now, aren’t you?
They’re all helping you. You have backup.
You could even, I don’t know, make me wear a wire or something. Or put like a, an AirTag on me…”
I throw my hands up, shaking my head. “I don’t know all the logistics of course. But the point is, you can figure it all out. This could be the best way. This may be the only way to end this, where everyone comes out safe.”
End this.
Which means this is over. This… thing between us.
Living out here, going on rides, having picnics, and worrying over dead plants.
Spending every second of every day together, in each other’s arms, touching, kissing, making love.
It means that we go our separate ways. Something I’d been so afraid of that in the beginning, that’s all I wanted.
To run away from him, to protect myself from him so I could have something left in me that was mine.
Because I knew by the end of this, he’d take every piece of me.
My heart, my body, my soul would be his. Bound and roped. And it would hurt.
It does, but that’s not the point right now. I could cry about it later. Right now, we need to bring his sister home, and this is our best shot.
“This ’cause you don’t trust me to get this done?” he rumbles in a very neutral tone, much like his features were when this began.
“What… No,” I say quickly, my hands fisting at my sides. “I do. I trust you. I trust you to keep me safe and get your sister back.”
He runs his eyes over my face before studying me from top to bottom. And something about the way he looks at me, as if from a distance, objectively, makes my heart go cold. Slowly, he brings his eyes back up to mine and asks, “Why?”
There’s a pit of dread slowly opening up in my stomach, but still, I ask, “Why, what?”
“Why do you want me to use you as bait?”
His question only widens the pit of fear and I answer, “You know why.”
He slowly shakes his head. “Not really, no.”
I don’t know why his questions are scaring me, but I continue, “Because I want you to get your sister back. That’s why.”
“Why?” he asks again.
“You—”
“Why do you want me to get my sister back?”
“Why do I want you to get your sister back?” I ask, afraid but also exasperated.
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, don’t you want your sister back?”
My chest is heaving now, and I’m starting to get angry. I don’t know what he wants from me. I don’t know what he wants me to say. But then he speaks and I realize why he keeps asking this question.
“I do, yeah,” he says, his eyes somehow both aloof and penetrating. “Just don’t get why you want her back so bad you want me to use you as bait. After everythin’.”
“After everything,” I repeat, my hands fisted.
He dips his face. “Yeah.”
I take a deep, deep breath then. But only because I want to fly over to him and punch him in the face. And then do it again. And again until I can make him understand why. But I’ll give it one more try before I resort to violence.
“Before this moment, I kept telling myself I needed to be patient with you,” I begin, “but you’re making it really hard for me to do that.
You’re making it really hard for me to not be angry and violent, and…
Listen to me, Radisson, okay? Listen. You’re not a monster.
Not on the outside or on the inside. Not for your scars that you got from trying to save your parents; not because you had to learn how to speak again when you were fifteen or that you still have trouble with words.
You’re not a monster for sending your sister away because you were grieving differently.
And you’re definitely not a monster for killing convicted criminals who have hurt others.
“What you are is in pain. You’re in pain, Radisson.
This is pain. It’s like you’re still in that burning car with your family.
You’re still trying to save them and then beating yourself up over and over because you can’t.
You can’t change the past. You can’t bring them back.
So you stay back, you stay with them; and if you have your way, you’ll always stay there.
You’ll never move on. You’ll never heal.
You’ll burn yourself in that car with them.
And I don’t know your parents, other than what you’ve told me about them, but I don’t think they wanted that for you.
I don’t think your mom, who taught you how to treat a girl; or your father, who taught you about the land and how to be a cowboy, wanted you to burn in a car with them.
They didn’t want you to think it was your fault that you weren’t able to pull them out in time.
You were fifteen. You were in a car wreck that injured you too.
You did your best and it hurts so bad that your best wasn’t good enough.
That your best was just you and your sister surviving.
But you did, and I don’t think they would want you to just do that, survive and nothing else. They’d want you to live.”
I take in another shaky breath and wipe away my tears that I didn’t even know had started to fall.
“So I’m sorry to say, but you’re not a monster and I can’t have you believing that.
I can’t have you punishing yourself for that, thinking you have to pay your dues because you’re a bad man.
The only monster in this whole scenario is my father.
He’s the one who ruined your life. He’s the one who ruined your sister’s life.
Him and no one else. So I want you to use me as bait to get your sister back because you deserve it.
Because my father doesn’t get to win this one.
Because I don’t care that you stole me or blamed me just because I’m related to a monster like him.
I don’t care. I don’t hate you for that.
I never did and I’m not going to, and you can’t make me.
So I’m going to help you and you’re going to take my help. ”
After I finish, the silence seems louder than it was back when I started, along with my heartbeats and my breaths.
But Radisson, for some reason, appears unchanged.
Except for the slight tensing of his jaw here and there, he appears unmoved.
His breathing appears to be relaxed, and his stare seems as blank as before.
I don’t like that. I don’t like his no reaction. It means I haven’t made my case and I begin to speak again at the same time he does. And his question is the same as before: “Why?”
My temper explodes. “Oh my God, are you—”
He keeps at it. “Why don’t you care?”
“You—”
“Why don’t you blame me?”
“Radisson—”
“Why can’t I make you hate me, Peyton?” he growls.
And I scream, “Because I love you, you…”
As soon as I say the words, he flinches.
I finally realize what he’s been asking me.
All this time. What he wanted me to say.
He wanted me to tell him the truth. Didn’t he?
He wanted me to tell him what’s in my heart.
I should’ve known. Because I did the same to him.
Up on that cliff when I wanted his truth.
When I wanted to know why he’d kill for me, for the Turner Princess.
The daughter of the man who murdered his family and ruined his life.
He did give me his truth, so I guess it’s only fair I give him mine.
“I love you,” I confess, and I watch his chest move with a deep breath.
“I’m in love with you. Okay? That’s why.
I can’t hate you because I love you. I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you.
Because you’re the only one who makes me feel alive.
You’re the only one who makes me feel safe.
And I’ve never had that. I’ve never felt safe anywhere, with anyone, the way I do with you.
Before I met you, I was so afraid. I lived my life in fear.
Day in, day out. I never felt safe enough to dream even.
To hope, to wish for things like other girls, but you…
you make me do that. You make me dream. You make me hope. You make me…”