Chapter 12
It takes a few days, but she eventually goes back to her townhome, no longer willing to put up with the way her family seems to be walking on eggshells around her. Her father, regretful and awkward. Her mother, distraught and disappointed. Ariel, pitying and horrified.
Enough is enough. Minnie has had it.
The first night back in her own home is unpleasant, full of ghosts in every shadow, and the fear of someone entering her windows fills her mind until sleep can’t find purchase. She finally finds rest in the late hours, but jerks awake multiple times, dreaming of the gun clicking against her face.
The controlling sensation of a man’s hand on the back of her neck.
By morning, she’s cranky, worn, and empty. She is ill-equipped to handle what happens next.
Time seems to stop when a knock comes from her door, announcing the presence of an unexpected visitor.
Minnie doesn’t often get visitors. None, aside from Ariel and Gage. She knows this visitor is unlikely to be Ariel, considering they just saw each other.
No, it can’t be him. It’s too soon, Minnie finds herself thinking frantically. I’m not ready.
You’ll never be ready.
For a moment, she can’t breathe. Her lungs freeze up and she forgets what it means to inhale.
Blood is rushing in her ears, and all she can seem to hear is her heart pounding like a tribal drum.
Flashes of memory hit her, of gunmetal, gloves, and menacing masks.
The way people screamed and cried in terror, and how Minnie sobbed and begged for her life repeatedly.
It all feels like now. As if the past has chased her into the future and found her again.
She’s frozen still and can’t get up to go to the door. Maybe if she’s quiet enough, he’ll go away.
The knock sounds again, nice and gentle, not abrasive the way someone who doesn’t know her might do.
He has a key. Usually, he just comes in. Minnie is glad that he isn’t.
“Minnie? Hey, it’s me.” Gage’s voice washes over her and she feels like crying all over again.
She loves his rusty voice, and now she feels like she should hate it.
How can she still hear his voice and warm to it?
“I know you were at your parents for a bit. Marlin told me. After that crazy mess at my place. Real shitshow, yeah? But, I figure you’re back now.
And, I mean, I’m back. Obviously.” He pauses, and she can almost imagine him shifting awkwardly.
There’s no golden confidence in his tone this day.
“I’m kinda embarrassed about the whole thing.
Didn’t expect that shit to go down with you at the crib. Minnie? You around?”
Face him. Don’t be a coward. Don’t be a mouse for once in your life. Be a powerful gazelle. You can still run when danger comes, but gazelles are elegant when they do it, right?
Steeling herself, Minnie pushes the idea of Minnie Mouse away and tries to be a tougher version of herself. The version of Minnie that she wants to be, a Minnie who is brave even when afraid. Within a few heartbeats, she opens the door and finds herself staring up at the man who ruined her.
Seeing him is like staring at a warzone for her.
“Hey.” She’s got nothing else on her tongue ready to speak aloud. He towers over her, but she’s not going to let that scare her. It didn’t scare her so much before, but now that she knows what he’s capable of? Well. That casts him and his appearance in another light.
He looks at her pale, drawn face, notices the way she doesn’t let him in the door the way she always does.
“Hey, princess.” His grin is careful, unsure.
There’s a fading purple bruise on his face.
“I wanted to check in on you, to make sure you’re okay after what happened the other day. I’ve been worried.”
“Were you really?” Minnie asks numbly, her mind filled with horrible memories, flashing about like alarms in her skull.
How can she ever believe anything he says to her ever again?
He knew about their shared past. And he said nothing.
She searches his eyes, trying to see which Mask he might have been.
Which of her tormentors was he?
The grin dies a slow little death. His face goes to stone as his hazel eyes try to pick her apart. “What do you mean? Of course, I was worried about you. You’re…” He stops and looks away, rubbing at the back of his tattooed neck.
“I’m what?” Minnie presses, feeling a certain madness growing within her. Was he ever going to tell her who he was? What he did? To her?
Grimacing, Gage finally says, “You’re fragile, Minnie.”
It’s strange, the way nastiness shapes her lips. It isn’t a common feeling, to feel her lip curl like that of a wolf. Perhaps she has finally taken her trauma and forced it into a new box called anger. “I wonder who made me that way.”
Anger makes her bold. Brave, even.
Confusion is written on his face now. The eyebrow with the scar through it shifts. “Minnie, can I just come in? What is going on right now?”
She doesn’t move aside, nor does she open the door any wider. Gage’s face falls, his brow furrowing. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know. Fine. Minnie will tell him.
Voice accusing, Minnie says, “My father told me about why you went to prison. He told me everything. There were pictures in the newspaper. Pictures of you. Of Marlin. Of Red. Even Chase. From back then. Such a fascinating read, despite being dated.”
His face pales, and it looks like someone has punched him in the gut the way he deflates. “Minnie,” Gage whispers hoarsely. “I didn’t mean for you to-”
“To find out?” She finishes harshly, voice rising with her emotions. Anger is easier than she imagined. “What did you think, that I’d just be none the wiser forever? You thought you could keep this from me and I’d never know?”
“Fuck. That’s not what I thought.”
“Well, what did you think? I’d love to know your logic.” Her voice is an unpleasant croak, dark eyes spitting fire.
Seeing her dig in her heels, Gage straightens up to his full height, a power move. There’s a hint of answering irritation brewing in his hazel gaze. “You want to have this conversation on your front stoop?”
Lifting her pert nose, Minnie tries to look down at him. “I do, actually.” She realizes how stupid it is, wanting to have it out where all her neighbors can hear. Part of her honestly doesn’t care. She’s not letting him in her house right now. She can’t bear the thought.
“Fine.” He scoffs under his breath and looks to the side, jaw shifting as he thinks through his confession.
“I planned to tell you. Back when we first met. But you’re the one who told me it didn’t matter.
You suddenly didn’t want to know. So, I guess I just let it go.
I didn’t think we’d come this far. I thought you’d eventually move on, find some posh boy your parents liked, and you’d never have to know.
You’d never have to be hurt by it.” Gage swallows thickly, cruel tattoos shifting at his throat.
“But, you didn’t leave me. And I didn’t want anyone but you.
I thought you would recognize somethin’ eventually.
I figured somethin’ I did would eventually trigger you.
But, again, it didn’t happen. And soon, it became this rotten sickness in my chest, this fuckin’ secret that I couldn’t bear to admit to you after all this time.
And so, I kept my mouth shut, like a coward. ”
Simple as that, Minnie supposes. She distinctly recalls telling him she didn’t care to know what he did, the glow of her crush on him so bright back then. The longer he kept it inside, the more ashamed to speak of it he became.
He’s afraid of losing you.
Gage shifts on his feet, waiting for her response. His eyes search hers, trying to get a clue into her state of mind.
“I see.” Her face shifts in pain. “You should have told me, even though I claimed I didn’t want to know.”
“What should I have said? Oh, hey, Minnie. Remember that traumatic past you told me about? It’s me.” He holds his arms out wide, muscles flexing. “I’m the one who did it. I was there. Want to go get dinner now?” He makes a face, disgusted. “You would have been horrified.”
He’s right. She would have lost her mind if he had just brought that up out of the blue. Regardless, the problem doesn’t vanish. “Lying isn’t much better.”
Gage’s expression is grim as he awaits further tongue-lashing.
Minnie bites her lower lip. There are a thousand horrible things she could screech about, but that’s never been her style. “I’m bad at confrontation; you know this.”
“You’re not doing so bad,” he replies with a hint of weak amusement. “You can call me a shit if you want to take your confrontation skills to the next level.”
She isn’t doing so bad at this, Minnie realizes.
She’s facing a tough situation head-on, not running from it.
A slight ray of hope warms her insides, despite the somber scenario.
“Cursing doesn’t improve my skills; it only makes me sound vulgar.
So, no thank you.” She narrows her eyes.
“But you’re an absolute foul ruffian and a craven scoundrel to boot.
You betrayed me by allowing me to care for a lie. ”
His eyebrows lift slightly, trying to place the insults she’s called him by. After he accepts that she’s called him all sorts of things without using a single swear word, he says in a somber tone, “I may have omitted the truth, but what I felt for you isn’t a lie, Minnie.”
Oh, such pretty words. “I don’t think you understand how much that time in my life ruined me. I don’t think you get what it was like to be fifteen and helpless, afraid of dying.” She has to blink her eyes to keep the tears from forming, looking away from him. “I’m ruined because of it.”