He ran his hand from his jawline to the back of his neck, a quiet, grounding gesture. “Did I push you too far?”
I slowed my chewing and set my bagel down.
Phantom shifted forward. “Wherever you went…I promise, I won’t send you back there again.”
I pressed my lips together. “It was triggering, but…in a good way, I think. It felt bad in the moment, but I feel free now. Like I finally have permission to let go.”
“Play can be therapeutic,” he said after a moment. “It is for me. It’s the one place I can turn off my brain. The problem withthat is that, sometimes, when you shut off your brain, things you spent your whole life trying to avoid suddenly rise to the surface.”
Even with the clatter of the café sounds around us, I felt safe here with Phantom. Like we were on our own, personal island.
My phone lit up—a notification from my theatre group chat. I ignored it, determined to keep the real world out a little longer. Phantom’s eyes fell to my phone, however, and he asked, “Who are those people?”
I glanced at my lock screen. I turned the phone around so he could see it better. “That’s my sister.” I pointed to the people in the image. “And my niece and nephew, Kira and Squeaky.”
“They look like you,” he said.
I hesitated. “My sister’s been living with me,” I confessed. “Since her divorce. The reason she broke up with her husband…it was because of me.” I waited for Phantom’s reaction—maybe a wince or a frown. There was none; he just remained quiet, allowing me the space to explain. “He came onto me. I told himno, and…eventually, he listened.” Phantom’s mouth twitched. I could tell he didn’t like the wordeventually. “I told Aleena. Immediately. That was it. She took the kids, left him, never looked back.”
“It sounds to me like you did everything right.”
“I know. But there are times I still…I don’t know. Blame myself, I guess.”
“Is he still around?”
“No. He wouldn’t dare.”
“It sounds like she’s better off without him.”
“Yeah. She is. Anyway. Sorry.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you sorry?”
“That’s just not…something you want to hear about. I don’t talk about that. Ever.”
“I want to hear it. I want to know everything about you.” He said it plainly, and I believed him. Phantom laced his fingers thoughtfully. He started, “I was raised by a single mother. She worked on Wall Street. Finance. Whatever image that conjures up for you…that’s correct. She was a hard worker. Very strong. Very stubborn.”
“Sounds like someone I know.”
A smile quirked the edge of his mouth.
“I saw a picture in your library. Two people at the beach. You and your mom?” He nodded. “You were an awkward as hell kid. Thank the gods you grew up hot.”
He exhaled a surprised laugh and looked at the coffee in his hands. “You say things like that to knock me off balance.”
“No. I say things like that because they’re true.”
He squinted at me. Then he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. His hand rubbed over his bicep—a slow, thoughtless motion—as he dipped back into memory. “I was an inconvenience in her otherwise well-ordered life, but she managed to be a good mother all the same.”
“Was?”
“When I was a teenager, she worked herself right into a stroke.” He paused briefly, like he was debating what to tell me next. “I remember the ride to the hospital. They had me sit up front in the ambulance. The EMT blasted AC/DC like it was a party bus. My mother was dying. I was numb, panicked, but in that moment, he gave me permission to feel safe. So I try to do that for other people.”
He had my trauma—now I had his. We’re even.
I tilted my head. “Is that why you like kink? Because it’s…safe?”
“Friday nights at the club are sacred to me. If I don’t have that…” he sucked in a breath, like the thought alone wasdebilitating. “I look forward to it. Every week. It’s my one place where I can be unapologetically, selfishly myself.”
