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I lie back and hate myself for following Noctus out of that house. For believing him so easily, my heart in a vice. Salvatore would have never brought me to his side for something like last words. My safety would have been paramount to him. Obviously, obviously, my brain says, over and over. Hindsight tears me in two.
Like the unfamiliar shadows in this room, Noctus’s words creep around my skull. Is Salvatore missing me at all? Does he have other women to get him through nights like this?
When I am not looking, does he become someone else entirely, until he finally can’t keep up the mask?
What if he’s just fine without me?
What if my absence bruises his pride and nothing else, while I feel like someone has stolen a rib from me, his absence felt in every painful breath?
I push the thought away.
I refuse to let the man who sold me off to my father pollute my memory of Salvatore.
If I want to have any chance of trying to contact him, I have to follow the plan. I have to convince my father that I want nothing to do with Salvatore Mori. I resolve myself, over and over. I can tell my father what he wants to hear, just like Sal would, to get what I actually want. I can learn to lie for him.
No matter how miserable I am, several nights without sleep finally catch up to me, and I drift into an exhausted, empty sleep.
The next day, I am told I have a surprise visitor. I’ve still not been given a phone, and no matter how I ask, my father gives my request the runaround. My surprise guest is not Kay, as I had secretly hoped. I recognize the shuffling sound of those footsteps before I realize it.
Dr. Armata enters the dining room. The ancient man has been the ‘family doctor’ since I was young. I know what the old fossil is really here to check; the same thing he checked when I was a teenager, every few months, keeping me on my father’s leash. A humiliating ritual. My thighs instinctively clench.
“When you’re finished, Tessa, Dr. Armata will do a routine checkup. Make sure you’re alright after everything you’ve been through.”
“I’m fine,” I insist, voice pitching up without my intention. “I don’t need a doctor.”
“It’s just a precaution,” my father tries to assure me.
“Well, I don’t want it.”
My father laughs, trying to downplay my reaction. “Oh, come now, Tessa. Give your old man some peace of mind. Let me hear it from a professional that you’re really alright. We can never be too safe.”
“No. This is ridiculous, you can hear it from me,” I say, watching Armata as though he is a snake that might strike. The man hasn’t touched me since the day I turned 18, and I won’t let him start now. The men in the room exchange glances at my stubborn attitude. They step away to speak to each other in low voices, but I catch the word trauma response.
My disgust doubles as I realize what they think—that I am being difficult because of some trauma Salvatore inflicted on me. Not the trauma they gave me themselves.
I go back to my room and find a pair of my old shoes in my closet. I hear someone following me.
“Tessa?” My father asks, as he watches me tie my laces. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to get my life back on track,” I smile at him sunnily. “I need to go see my friends.
Handle what’s to be done about my apartment and the art studio, see what’s happened to my installation at the gallery—I’ve been locked away for months, papa, I just need to get out and do something—”
“Let’s not be hasty—”
I try to move past him, but he blocks the way. Our eyes meet as I force him to show his hand.
“It’s not a good idea for you to be out yet.”
I knew it.
“And it won’t be until Salvatore Mori is six feet under. That won’t take long, darling, but until then, I need you to stay safe. Here.”
The words send a dagger to my heart, but my blasé smile never wavers.
“Papa, come on—” I say, breezing past him. “Just for a little while.”
“Tessa. Don’t make the security wrangle you back here. It would break my heart to have to do that.”
