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He shakes his head and frowns, confused.
“Love is more than kisses and someone to share a life with. Most people see the light love brings, but they forget that with light, shadows are cast. And within those shadows lie the other aspects of love. Possession, obsession, jealousy, pain...
“All love has the ability to become toxic. Something that starts out sweet inevitably rots away in the end.”
“How did someone so young become so…” he trails off, thinking of the right word.
“Jaded? Cynical? Guarded? It’s okay. You can say it. I’m not ashamed. Just like this friend of yours stood at a crossroads, so did I. He walked away from you all, forsaking everything he believed in for the woman he loved. You know, in another life, that would make him the hero of the story. Funny how that works, huh?
“For me, it was all about survival. After being used time and time again, I chose to love me and to stop giving away pieces of myself to people who didn’t deserve them. Being jaded, cynical, and guarded might make me hold myself back a little more than I used to, but I don’t trust my instincts anymore. I want to love people. I want them to love me back, but I’ve realized I’m just unlovable. Anyway, one day I woke up and decided I was going to love myself instead. That doesn’t mean that I’ve given up on someone else coming along and finding me worthy. It just means that they’ll have to work to prove that they want more from me than what I can offer them. I’ll never get back the pieces of myself that I carelessly threw away, but that’s okay because they don’t hold the power they used to. Now if someone wants a piece of me, they have to earn it.”
“And the difference between earning a piece and being given one?”
“It’s like getting a medal for winning over getting a sticker for participation.”
He throws his head back and roars with laughter, making me grin.
Nudging my arm, his laughter calms to a chuckle. “I like you, Astrid. I suspect, hidden under their asshole exteriors, those boys in there do too. They’re jaded, cynical, and guarded, too, though maybe for different reasons. I’m not saying you should take their shit. I’m just asking you to keep that in mind. Even big, scary mercenaries can get hurt. Only we’re men, so we don’t admit shit like that. We bury it down, rub dirt on it, and walk it off.”
I gasp, placing my hand on my chest. "What? Men have feelings," I say sarcastically.
Greg looks from side to side before placing his finger to his lips. "Shhh, don't tell anyone."
I can't help the laugh that escapes me, and Greg smiles.
Once I’ve calmed down, we sit in comfortable silence, and I tuck my hands into the front pocket of the hoodie I stole.
“When do you think I’ll get to go home?”
He doesn’t rush to answer, thinking his words over before turning to look at me. “Can I ask you a question first? And I want you to really think about the answer before you reply.”
“Okay.”
“What do you have to rush home to?”
I open my mouth but snap it shut.
“Would it be so bad to stay here? If what you saw comes to fruition, you might be the only person who can stop it from happening.”
I stare back at the pretty landscape and remind myself of all the reasons I need to get out of this place. Mostly because I’m not a huge fan of assholes, and this place has more than a proctologist’s office. The truth is, I don’t have anything to rush home to. More importantly, I don’t have anyone to rush home to. Of course, I don’t say that part out loud. I want them to think that someone out there will miss me and note my absence, even if it’s not true.
“I wouldn’t have come all this way if I didn’t want to help. But I’m not going to let people treat me like crap when I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”
“And you shouldn’t. But something tells me those boys might just be seeing the error of their ways.” He leans closer and slings his arm around my shoulder in a brotherly way.
As wary as I am around most people, nothing Greg does seems to raise any red flags.
“And why’s that?”
He tugs me so that I turn with him. When I do, I see Jagger watching us from the deck with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Because they’re beginning to realize you don’t fit in the box they tried to shove you into.”
* * *
An hour later, I’m mulling over Greg’s words as I stand under the spray of the shower. I spend far longer in here than I need to but getting out means facing Jagger and Slade. And I’m not sure I have it in me.
When my skin resembles a prune and the water is tepid at best, I turn the shower off and climb out.I wrap myself in the large towel I find hanging on the back of the door and take a deep breath before tugging the door open.
