Chapter 14 #3
“No one ever taught me and-” she hesitates, “if I can’t see my feet then…I’m afraid someone could pull me under. Like grab my ankle and take me to the bottom of the ocean.”
“That’s irrational,” I remark.
“If you think this is irrational-” she stops, her brows shooting up.
“Are they others?” I ask, as she blushes, like showing me her true self could be embarrassing. You could not be more wrong sweetheart. I want to know every corner of yourself, every fear, and every way I could help you overcome them.
“Tsunamis. We should all be so much more concerned about them.”
“In…Westhaven?” I’m trying to stay stoic but my girl is making it hard not to laugh.
“Everywhere.”
“What…”
“Can you imagine a wave the size of four buildings?”
“Ella, sweetheart, I don’t think, given our geographic position, that this is a concern you should have. Do you often think about that?”
“No. Not at all.” She shrugs.
“How often?”
“Daily.”
“Ella.”
“I can’t help it. I saw it on the news, it was happening in Thailand once, and I can’t erase it. I even thought about scenarios to hide and survive in case. For the last ten years, it has been a major concern.” She admits, biting a smile and perhaps relating how delusional it is.
“Okay, okay. But just so you know, you’re safe here. If you do not plan on moving out of the country, I think you are pretty safe regarding the chances of encountering one.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll stay prepared just in case.”
“Okay.” I smirk, shaking my head. “Then I suppose I will add it to the list of things to keep away from you.”
“Such as?”
“Bad guys.” I shrug. “Bad guys and tsunamis.” Something fragile returns to her face then, as if the laughter has opened a door only grief was waiting behind.
“Anyway,” she signs, looking away, back to her memories.
“When she died, it was like…a part of me died with her. I miss her. I miss her so much.” She confesses it as a tear forms and rolls, thick, down her cheek.
I shift from kneeling to sitting beside her, gently circling her waist with my arm and pulling her onto my lap as her head naturally finds the crook of my neck.
Ella cries there, against my chest, in a place I hope she knows is now her home, her sanctuary to let go and be exactly who she is.
The wind is still crashing against the window, the street silent, and the TV downstairs seems to have stopped.
I hum in her ear, a made-up lullaby, the only one I remember from my childhood.
My palm runs circles over her back, and despite trying my best to be gentle, I cannot help but hold her tight, real tight against me, shielding her from the world, protecting the woman I am falling for.
The rain is crashing against the windows.
I’ll be drenched before finding my bike again.
Doesn’t matter. Ella is here. My Ella, in my arms, exactly where she should be.
Ella
He is holding me like no one ever has, like no one ever will, at least not in this protective, possessive yet gentle way, telling me with his body that he is my shelter now.
I have allowed myself to cry in front of him, something I have not been able to do in front of anyone in years.
I couldn’t show weakness in front of my stepsisters and Mara, and never in front of Dad, never.
In the eye of the storm, I have kept my tears to myself, hidden in this room, like all my aspirations.
Tristan whispers in my ear, “Sign to me. Tell me what to do to fix everything.”
Our faces are so close I could just, just dip in and sink my lips against his.
“You already are,” I sign between our chests.
He gives me a sad smile and sighs. “Ella, there is something I need to tell you, something you might not like at all.” I frown, waiting.
“I found proof of your stepmother’s involvement with…
let’s say, shady people, dangerous ones.
She seems to be highly in debt, and I wonder if she might be trying to get rid of you and your father to get the inheritance all to herself and repay the family she borrowed from,” he signs, his face changing into an unreadable business wall.
“You don’t seem surprised.” Taking in his information, I shake my head.
So I was right, then. Mara never wanted to befriend me in the first place.
It was all a show, a game to her. Could Tristan be right?
Even after more than a decade under her roof, would she remain insensitive to me?
And what about her love for Dad? Could it all be a game of pretend?
“I don’t know anything anymore,” I sign. “I have been suspecting money issues since two men came into the house and she got really stressed about it.”
“Two men?”
“In black suits, with tattoos on their hands.”
“Ella,” Tristan runs a hand over his face, as if he has not slept for weeks, his other hand gripping possessively at my waist, “they’re called the Vodianovs. It’s a Russian family, mafia, extremely dangerous, a family that my family has been enemies with for generations.”
“I don’t understand. Why them? Why not get money from the bank or…wherever people get it from?” His gaze softens, as if he wishes, for a moment, that I could truly be sheltered from this dark world.
“She must have needed it fast, and banks would require proof and follow-through she could not provide. I think she’s desperate to save her company and herself.”
“But what does it have to do with me if she manages to pay them back?”
“I am not worried about her paying them back, Ella. I am much more concerned about what happens if she doesn’t. Surely, she will not be able to repay and will have to borrow again from other people. It is an endless cycle.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I don’t think you’re safe in this house anymore. If Mara finds out about us, she could use you as payment for her debt.”
“Why? What would they want with me?”
“Because when you really want to hurt someone, you aim at their heart. Cole Vodianov, the heir, has been looking for years for a way to wound me enough that I could never strike back. You would be… You would be the perfect…” He stops, eyes widening, a flash of terror cutting through them.
“Tristan, I’m okay. Everything is okay. I’m safe. Look at me.” I rest a palm on his chest, wanting to take away his worries, his fears for me.
“If…I could put you and your dad in an apartment or a house in the city. It would be safer. You…” I stop him with my hands.
“Tristan, no. I would never ask that of you. All our assumptions are based on what-ifs. Dad would never understand why he could not be in his home, Mara would hang me for it, and maybe I am wrong and seeing evil everywhere…”
“You are being too kind, Ella. I am not feeling this, and with you being at the center of it all, what if something happens to you and I am not there to protect you?”
“I’ll be all right, Tristan. Really. When the time comes, I will get out of here, with my…” I do not finish, knowing all too well that the day Dad passes will be the day I leave this place, because I cannot leave him alone here.
“It’s dangerous. The Vodianovs being in your home is dangerous. Your stepmother is dipping her feet into dark waters with no way back while I’m at war with them. One way or another, someone will get hurt.”
“Tristan, I…I can’t leave my dad here. Let me talk to him first, please, and then, I promise, I’ll consider moving out with him, but it costs a lot and…”
“I’ll cover it. The care, the nurses, your studies, all of it.
Just please, I beg of you, accept it.” I blink hard, trying to process the possibility of a move, of what I would say to Dad, of explaining years of neglect and trying to be believed after years faking happiness. Who would believe me then?
“I need…I need…” I start to sign, heaving, starting to process the possibility that Mara could use me as a pawn, hurt Dad and me to benefit herself. Tristan runs a hand over my hair, soothing me.
“I know this is a lot,” he murmurs. “I might have something to brighten up your day though. One week from now, my mother is hosting a ball. It will be huge and expensive. It’s for the children’s hospital.
A masquerade ball, so everyone will wear masks, and well, she told me I would be a jerk not to ask you out, even if I would like to keep you locked in my apartment. ”
“She’s right. I have always dreamed of going to a ball.” My fingers run on the inside of his forearms, thick veins leading the way.
“One week from now, on the night of the ball, I will need your answer about moving, or I will drag you out myself, whether you want it or not.”
“Tristan.” I run my fingers over his square jaw, wanting to cover it in kisses.
Some might mistake his commands for domination, but I see him, and there is an undertone of fear, bright and painful, in his expeditious ways.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, lifting my hand and kissing my palm.
“I am trying to find a way to negotiate with you like I do at the office with my associates, but it is not working because you’re… you’re…”
“Yours,” I sign. “I’m yours, and so you can’t think straight.” He nods, pain pulsing in his eyes.
“I need to talk to my dad and prepare him for the move. I did not say that I would do it, but I promise to give you an answer at the ball.”