26. Maya
26
MAYA
I t’s like living in a dream. For once, a good dream instead of a nightmare. The kind of dream I don’t actually want to wake up from.
Could it be this easy? Everything is so simple. I mean, granted, it’s getting harder every day to not get too close to Tucker, no matter how much I want to. It would be so easy to forget how we started out. Everything he’s done to me. I don’t want to leave myself vulnerable. I’m tired of other people being able to hurt me. I want to be strong. I want to take care of myself.
At the same time, I can’t pretend there isn’t something magical about being able to rest for once. I don’t have to struggle. There’s no looking over my shoulder anymore, waiting for the next terrible thing to catch up to me. It’s enough for us to be together, to know somebody will be there to catch me if I fall.
I might already be falling.
I blink hard, like that will do anything to wipe the thought from my mind. The last thought I need to have, ever. “What’s up?” Tucker asks, frowning.
I shake my head a little and try to smile, something that’s easier a week after the fight with Tiana. I still can’t believe it happened—it might as well have been a different girl brawling with her that day. “Nothing. Just had something in my eye.”
He leans his back against the tree, whose shade gives us a break from the warm early afternoon sun. There’s something peaceful about him right now, and I have to admit, at least to myself, it’s an improvement over his angry, nasty side. I like him much better this way, even if it’s still exciting when his eyes flash and a growl stirs in his throat.
I can almost imagine I really am his girlfriend as we sit here having lunch together before our last class of the day. Sitting through Political Science with him was nice, too, when every once in a while his leg would touch mine, and I couldn’t help but smile. Just that silent reminder he was there with me. If I tried every day for the rest of my life, I don’t know if I could explain what that means.
Of course, I don’t know if he’d want to hear it, either. We’re having fun together right now, and it’s easy to be happy when things are going well. It’s easy to forget everything else lingering under the surface, ready to jump out and ruin everything.
I guess my thoughts must show up on my face, because he leans in, taking my chin in his hand. It smells like the chips he’s eating with his sandwich. “What’s really happening in your head?” he asks, his eyes searching my face.
“Nothing,” I lie, before forcing the fake smile I’ve practiced for so long.
“Don’t you know by now you can’t fool me? That’s not some threat or anything, either,” he assures me. “It’s the truth. I see how worried you are. Nobody’s been giving you any shit when I’m not around, have they?”
“When are you ever not around?” I point out, laughing softly. He doesn’t think it’s so funny—his concerned frown turns to a scowl. “I’m just saying…” I take his hand and brush my lips against the palm before letting it go. “We’re together all the time.”
“Are you complaining?”
“Does it sound like I’m complaining?” To prove myself, I lean in closer to kiss him gently, soft, not the kind of kiss that’s going to stir anything up while we’re in front of everybody walking past. Though really, it doesn’t take much to get him excited. I’m the same way.
“I’m not complaining,” I insist, taking a bite of my sandwich.
“Then what is it? You do know you’re safe, right? I hate to think of you having all that shit still hanging over your head. The whole point is for you to be able to let that go.”
I wish it was that easy. I really do. “There’s still so much in here,” I confess, tapping my chest with one finger. “I wish it was as easy as deciding not to care anymore, not to worry.”
“What can we do about that?” he asks. The thing is, he means it. I know he does. He really believes it’s that easy. Like I can decide to let go of the past and presto, it’s gone. As tough as he is, as worldly and jaded, he’s also been pampered and sheltered all his life. It’s times like this when that really shows. Not that I can blame him.
“I don’t know,” I mumble before taking another bite of my sandwich. “I mean, it’s nice when you distract me from… you know.” I can’t make myself say it out here, where anybody might hear us. There’s still too much shame wrapped up in my scars. I know he understands, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
“But it doesn’t take every thought away,” he concludes. I hate how disappointed he sounds. I know he wants to be everything. He wants to cure me or something, but it’s not that simple.
“I wish I could tell you everything is perfect now, but it’s not. I’m too broken.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“Really? After the kind of things you used to say to me?” I’m not trying to make him feel bad, I’m really not, but at the same time, I can’t help reminding him every once in a while of how things were not very long ago. Maybe I’m reminding myself, too, since it’s easy to forget.
His brows draw together, but quickly smooths out before he grunts. “Stop changing the subject. I know that’s what you’re trying to do.” Okay, maybe he’s right, maybe I’m deflecting.
Popping a couple of chips into his mouth, he shrugs. “Have you ever thought about therapy? For real,” he adds when I sigh. “I’m not trying to be funny. I mean it. It might help you a lot after everything you’ve been through. You might need somebody who knows how to process all this shit and turn it into something positive. So you can go on with your life. Do you want to do that?”
Of course I do. So why does the idea make my heart sink? “It’s so hard to believe that’s possible,” I have to admit.
“I bet it is, but it’s not impossible. You should think about it,” he urges. “Give yourself a chance, you know?”
“It’s expensive.”
He lifts a shoulder. “Do I sound like I’m worried?”
“Tucker…” I don’t know how to say without sounding ungrateful or ruining the time we’ve been having together today. Maybe I’ve already ruined it. Maybe Dad is actually right, and that’s all I ever do. I hate thinking about him, now or ever, but I can’t pretend like he doesn’t always hover over me.
“Can you just accept a gesture without looking for a reason to doubt it?” This time he leans in to kiss me, and my heart skips a beat at the taste of his mouth and the soft groan when his tongue brushes mine. All I want is to be able to enjoy this without fear, without having to hold back. Is that too much to ask?
He grunts unhappily, breaking the kiss, checking his phone when an alarm chimes. “Shit. Class starts in ten.” That means mine does, too, making us both rush through getting our things together and gathering our trash. As usual, I promise to meet him by the truck when class finishes, so we can go home together.
That’s another thing I need to get used to: not dreading going home. And to think, I’ve missed this for so long. It’s almost like the way life used to be, years ago, when I had Mom. I’m actually glad to go home.
The thought makes me smile during class, while my heart flutters a little. I’m supposed to help Mrs. Kingsley with dinner tonight, and I’ve been looking forward to it all day. She’s such a nice woman, generous and kind. I see bits of her in Tucker in the moments when he lets his guard down and allows himself to be human. Those moments are happening more and more now, and I love to see it.
If I’m not careful, I’m going to fall so far, I won’t ever be able to find my way back.
It’s still on my mind when class ends, and I make my way outside. It’s nice, being able to walk around without expecting some jerk to screw with me. Yet another reason to feel closer to him than I should.
I wish I could make sense of it. How could we go from hating each other to this so quickly? It’s the same sort of question I asked myself about Wren and Briggs, isn’t it? Now, looking back, I understand why Wren couldn’t explain the change, because I can barely explain it to myself. Why Tucker means so much. I’m willing to let go of the recent past in favor of taking my happiness where I can get it. That’s what it’s really all about in the end. Grabbing onto any scrap of happiness I can find and holding on as long as I can. I’ve gone so long without it.
Class got out a few minutes early, meaning Tucker isn’t waiting for me when I reach the truck. I lean against it, pulling out my phone to let him know I’m waiting. A breeze stirs my hair. The birds are singing, and I’m happy. I’m really happy.
“There’s my little girl.”
It’s like jumping feet first into an ice-cold lake, the shock slamming into me all at once. I barely have time to turn my head to find my father standing only feet away before a hand clamps over my mouth from behind and cuts off the scream I didn’t have time to let out.
Something like a bee sting touches my neck, and I scream silently, helplessly, clawing at the hand, cutting off my voice and my air. “It didn’t have to be this way,” Dad murmurs as the world starts to go dark. I struggle to keep my eyes open, but it’s no use. They’re so heavy all of a sudden. And I’m so tired…
“I think she’s coming around.”
Am I? I mean, I guess they’re talking about me, whoever they are. I don’t recognize the voice. A man, for sure, but what man? And why is my body so heavy? I can barely move.
“They told me it would last hours,” another voice grunts. I know this one. And suddenly, I remember. Not that there’s very much I can do about it. I’m unable to open my eyes more than an inch before they close again.
Why is Dad doing this? I was so close to being happy, and now I am… where am I? I don’t have the first idea. I’m in a bed, I think. It’s firm but soft, and when I wiggle my fingers, I feel something like satin under them, cool and smooth.
“Right, but that’s not foolproof. She might need a second dose.”
“You want her awake for the ceremony, don’t you?” Dad asks. “I mean, I’m happy to have you as a son-in-law, Clark, but really. I think she should at least be awake.”
Clark? It must’ve been Clark who held me. Clark, who jammed that needle into my neck to pump me full of whatever is weighing me down now. Everything is so foggy, and even trying to think hurts too much. But I have to think. I can’t let myself fall asleep again.
“Are you with us?” Dad asks. “Wakey wakey. Don’t bother playing possum. I know your tricks.”
Oh, my god, that’s what this is about. The ceremony—he’s talking about a wedding, isn’t he? There I was, trying to convince myself it was over, that he couldn’t touch me now while I’m under Tucker’s protection. I tried to convince myself I was being paranoid, and where am I now?
I manage to pry my eyes open, not because he wants me to, but because I need to look at him. Both of them. I need them both to know I understand exactly what’s happening here, and how disgusting it is. Not that I think it will make a difference—even now, barely able to see much less think, I understand that much.
“There she is.” There’s something perverse and chilling about the sound of Dad’s voice. I don’t know how he can stand there, sounding tender and loving when we both know he is anything but. It’s a complete joke. He even smiles as he sits on the bed next to me, where I have no choice but to lie here and stare at him rather than moving away like instinct begs me to do. If only I could.
“Like I told you in the parking lot,” he murmurs, reaching out and stroking my hair, “it did not have to be this way. This is the choice you made. You could’ve gone along with it and not insisted on acting like a spoiled brat, but no. You were so sure you could get what you wanted. I did warn you.”
His shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. “I’ll never know the pleasure of walking you down the aisle in a real public ceremony. You took that from me. You took it from yourself. I hope you think it was worth it.”
Fuck him. Fuck this son of a bitch. My tongue moves over my lips to moisten them, but that’s about all I can handle. I’m still so groggy, weak, and even closing my fists takes every ounce of effort I can manage. Whatever they gave me, it was a lot, and I am completely at their mercy. These awful, disgusting men.
Clark comes into view, standing over Dad’s shoulder and wearing an almost happy smile that makes my stomach churn. This pig, this monster. Thinking he can have me just because he says so. Drugging me to have his way. And Dad expects me to marry him. It’s so horrifying. My brain doesn’t want to accept it, but I have to. I can’t pretend this isn’t happening. A single tear runs down my cheek and there’s nothing I can do to catch it before it soaks into my hair.
“See? Tears of happiness,” Dad announces, and my insides burn with panic and rage as they both laugh gently.
“You have nothing to worry about,” Clark tells me in a voice heavy with what could be sympathy, but really is just another reason for me to detest him. “I am going to make a good husband for you—so long as you make a good wife for me.” His eyes narrow, and his lips part to allow breath through. Breath that comes a little faster as his eyes take a slow tour of my body. I might be groggy from the drugs, but there isn’t a doubt in my mind what he’s thinking.
I’m going to throw up. I’m going to choke to death on my vomit. Would that really be a bad thing? That’s the worst part; the way it feels like choking to death would be a good way out of this.
“You have nothing to worry about,” Dad assures me, stroking hair away from my forehead again, chuckling when I flinch at his touch—I have a little more control over my body now, but not enough to get me out of this room. “She’s coming around a little more,” he announces. “We should get this over with in case she decides to be a spoilsport and ruin all our plans.”
Clark’s beaming smile makes me gag, but of course, he ignores my revulsion. “I bet when you woke up this morning, you didn’t know it was your wedding day,” he says, sounding gleeful, like there’s anything normal about any of this.
All I can do is hope Tucker figures out where I am, because otherwise, I’m not sure I can survive it.