He’s usually pretty quick to answer me, but he doesn’t this time. It’s possible he’s gone off to do one of the many things North Point keeps its students busy with, but I know he’s ignoring me, needling me. I can’t even be mad. Correction—Iammad, but I don’t have a right to be with how much I ignore him.
It’s not like I want to ignore him. Does that count?
Ryan!!!
My forehead finds the wall. The eerie silence mixes with scents of expensive wood and leather, churning my stomach. Pulling myself away, I find the nearest window to stick my head out of before I choke to death on those terrifyingly familiar aromas. This place is infested with them.
The fresh air clears my head enough for me to remember why I was triggered in the first place. My husband. Mis-fucking-behaving. Whipping his dick out in the locker room. The problem is, I don’t have the control over Ryan I need to quell the way my insides burn when he does shit like that. And I can’t control him and make him happy at the same time.
Icareabout him.
But I also can’t live in a state of rage.
Sucking in lungfuls of air helps to keep me upright, but not from the invasion of memories.
Uncle Jasper would drag me home if he felt any pushback from me or if he wanted me to reaffirm my allegiance. He’d hand me a knife, tell me to remove my shirt, and get on my knees.
“Do it,” he’d say. “Make it deep.”
He never wanted the cut in a new place; he wanted me to cut open the same scar, lips twisting with victory as the hooked edge of the blade tore through the shiny pink skin. The gut-squirming sensation of cutting through nerves, almost scraping bone, made me fight to stay conscious. I screamed and bled until he decided I could get fucking stitches.
My thumb finds where the raised, diagonal line sits under my jacket. I use all my mental capacity to push hard against the memory flood and lock that shit down tight again. It’s not that I was afraid of him, well, okay, maybe a little, but in a lot of ways,I admired the man’s cunning. Watching Uncle Jasper negotiate a business deal, especially with those who thought they held all the power, only to find themselves stripped of everything, was nothing short of awe-inspiring. He unraveled them, thread by thread, until they begged for his mercy. I wanted that skill.
But I had to survive him first. That meant keeping up personas, appearances, jobs, roles. Being who he expected me to be, learning what he expected me to learn. It wasn’t easy, and without artfully constructed control, survival wouldn’t have been possible.
Ryan doesn’t respond, and neither do I. I want to fight with him about as much as I want to be here. I’ll cool down, and then I’ll tell him how it is. I’m his fucking husband now. He can do what the fuck I tell him to do.
Luke’s in his old room. It’s still intact as if he never left it. He’s staring at an old picture. It’s me on crutches, smiling like it’s the best day of my life, dying on the inside. Luke’s got his arm around me, proud.
“Fuck, your knee when you twisted it,” he says.
“Mangled it, you mean.” Uncle Jasper made sure I’d never play professionally again. Or, more accurately, he made sure that I made sure I’d never play professionally again.
“Yeah, I’ll never forget the way you went down.”
Yeah. Accidentally on purpose. Something hockey players learn how to do to avoid penalties. I did it to bury my hockey career because Uncle Jasper ordered it.
“Yep. You think I would have made the draft?” I ask. Do I want to talk about this? No. But it’s what he’ll expect me to say. And this is Luke’s day. I don’t want anything to ruin it for him. Definitely not worrying about me.
“For sure you would have,” he says with a sparkle in his eyes, pride pouring off him.
“Knock, knock, gentlemen,” Clarence says. He’s dressed in a suit, ready to play lawyer for the next hour.
Luke may not know the extent of Clarence’s treachery, but he’s never warmed to him. He doesn’t offer his hand.
“Thanks for meeting us on short notice.” Luke’s voice carries all the warmth of polished marble.
Fucking short notice, my ass. Clarence practically forced this meeting.
“Of course. How exciting. I hear congratulations are in order, Tatum,” he says as if he’s just learned about my recent nuptials.
That’s it. Clarence can live in the cell next to Kline. I smile thinking about it. “Thank you, Clarence. Let’s hurry through this. I have to get back to work.”
“Sure, sure,” Clarence says, making himself at home in Uncle Jasper’s office chair. He thinks he has the right to do that. He closes his eyes briefly, exhaling.
I had Ethan send Clarence the marriage certificate, and that should have been enough to settle this matter. The fact that we had to travel here for this nonsense rather than sending copies of the paperwork to Luke says it all. Clarence wants to make everything difficult. But maybe this somehow plays into his other agenda.
He gave Luke some bullshit about it being Uncle Jasper’s last wishes. I doubt Luke believed that, but he went along with it anyway.
