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“I don’t love you,” the words are out before I can think about them or process what I’m saying myself.
They silence him.
They silence us both.
I hear what I’ve just said.
When he finally speaks, his tone is different. Hard. “Do you love him?” he asks through gritted teeth.
“I want to go back.”
“Answer me.”
“You get one question just like I did.”
He studies me and hurt wars with rage and I know the latter is winning from the way his eyes darken.
“I want to go back to the island. Now.” I stand.
He gets to his feet. “You know he almost killed his brother, don’t you?”
“It was an accident.”
“You don’t believe that.”
I stop, look down at the ground. No, I know it’s not true. I know it wasn’t an accident.
I shake my head no and look up at him. “I know what really happened, but I also know he was a child.”
“Sixteen isn’t a child. Not in our family.”
“What’s your problem? He loves you. And I defended you to him.”
“I don’t need you to defend me. That’s not what you’re for. But don’t worry, you’ll be safe from me. If he has the balls to go through with it.”
“Go through with what?” My aunt’s journal comes to mind, the marking ceremony.
He walks away. “I’ll take you back to the island like you want, Helena.”
“Goes through with what, Gregory?” I ask again, refusing to move.
He comes back, takes my arm, leans in close. “Maybe you don’t want to know, Willow Girl.” He drags me to the canoe, picking up our discarded clothes on the way and tossing them into it.
“Get in.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me. Get in.”
“Gregory—”
“Get in the fucking boat before I leave you here!”
I jump at his tone and I climb into the canoe and he pushes it out, then climbs in himself and begins to row us back to the island, not speaking a word, his eyes burning a hole into me.18SebastianI’m lying on Helena’s bed reading when she walks into the room. She startles, stops.
Her hair’s wet and she’s wearing a bikini, carrying her clothes. She’s out of breath.
“Where were you?” I ask.
Her eyes fall on the notebook I’m reading. “What are you doing?” She comes forward, goes to grab it out of my hands.
I pull it away, stand up. “Maid found it tucked between the mattress and the box spring when she was changing the sheets. How long have you had this?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s none of your business.”
“Well, actually, yes, it is my business.”
She rubs her hand over her forehead. “I can’t deal with this right now.” She goes into the bathroom, closes the door.
I open it. She’s standing at the sink, the clothes she was holding in a heap on the floor. She’s looking at her reflection but I’m not sure she’s seeing anything at all.
“Mind telling me what the fuck is going on?”
She turns the taps, washes her face. “I need a shower.”
“Why?”
“Because your brother just took me out to some island for a swim and I’m salty from the water. All right?”
“What island?”
“A cove. Not an island.”
I feel my jaw tighten. “What did he do?”
“Nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like it was nothing.”
“Just leave it alone.”
I go to the sink, switch the taps off. “Did he touch you?”
She looks at me. “It’s always the same thing. You let him touch me, Sebastian. Remember? More than once.”
“And I remember you liking it,” I say, grabbing her arms, shaking her. “I remember hearing you come. Can’t get the sound out of my head, in fact.”
“You know what? I did like it, I liked him fucking me. I came. And maybe I should have let him do what he wanted—”
“What did he want?”
“To kiss me. Just to kiss me. That’s all.”
I release her and when she walks back into the bedroom, I follow her.
“Kissing is different. Intimate,” I say.
“How is fucking less intimate? I mean, I get it that he’s confused. You put me out there and then you take me back. Hang me back out there, then snatch me back. And I can’t tell what you want. What you’re doing out of obligation.” She drops to a seat on the bed. “I can’t even tell what I want.”
I stand back, watch her. “I control it. He can only touch you when I say. He can only touch you how I say. I control it.”
“But you can’t control emotions, Sebastian. It doesn’t work that way, not even for you. You can try to arrange us the way you want in your stupid game and you still can’t control what we feel. No one can!”
“Get showered and changed and stay in your room. I need to have a word with my brother.”
She looks up at me. “What are you going to do?”
“That’ll be between me and him.”
“You have so many secrets, so much between you and him. So how come I’m always the one in the middle? How come I’m always the one tugged around, stretched to the point of breaking?”
