Page 54 of Where We Began

“Your father isn't good at keeping promises,” I say. My skull throbs. “He's happy to say whatever he has to, to get people to do what he wants.”

“Like I said, you don't know him!” she snaps.

I hesitate, torn between letting her win this argument and wanting her to understand my side of things. I wait too long, and my long stretch of silence exposes me to her. She reads between the lines, scanning my face, my uneasy frown, and her eyebrows arch upwards.

“Dominic, what aren't you telling me?” she asks warily.

I drop the bag of pinecone on the ground. I can't hold them anymore. “I'm not making wild guesses. I'm speaking from experience. Laiken, I've met your father. We worked together.”

The rain is coming down hard. It's soaked into her hair, made it look like black seaweed. Laiken could be created from nature, a dryad hiding among the plants and animals, beautiful spirit designed to judge my every flaw.

She stares at me accusingly. “How could you wait so long to tell me that you worked with my dad?”

I shake my head as I approach her. The ground is soft and slippery. “I didn't think it mattered. My work with him had nothing to do with you.”

“Everything that has to do with my father has something to do with me!” she yells. “Dominic, this is what I'm talking about. These casual lies, this information that you hide from me, they're why I can't let you get close to me.”

“I wasn't trying to hide it,” I say, but as it comes out of my mouth it rings false.

She takes a step back, and I get the idea that she's about to flee. I don't blame her.

I'd run from me, too.

“Laiken, just listen.”

“Why, so you can tell me more lies? You'll manipulate me anyway you can to get what you want. Does it feel good to trick me into falling into your arms?”

“No,” I cringe.

“Then why didn't you tell me? What did I do to make you hate me so much?”

“It has nothing to do with you!” I yell back. Overhead the thunder booms, a flash of lightning turning her skin white. I'm breathing heavy, fingers flexing at my sides. “I didn't tell you... because I was ashamed. Telling you that I worked with your father would involve telling you that his escape was my fault. My fucking mistake.”

“What?” she whispers, the rain's constant rattle drowning her out.

“I was working with him on a project. I wanted to show my dad that I could be useful at the company. All the programming I learned, and I still wasn't anywhere as talented as your father. But I wanted to be. I thought if I worked with him, I could learn.” A bitter smile clings to my lips. “Instead, he pulled the wool over my eyes. He made me comfortable until I trusted him.” My attention shifts to her stunned face. “Just like he did to you.”

Laiken's head gives a single shake. “How did it happen?”

“He told me that he was coming back to the house for his monthly meeting with you. He told everybody else thatIwas in charge of escorting him. But I wasn't. I didn't know I was supposed to be. He got away, and now, I'll never be able to convince my parents I'm not worthless.”

There's water on her face and I don't know if it's rain or tears. “You hid this from me, because you thought I'd hate you for making a single mistake? Do you really think so little of me?” I stare at her, ingesting her words like a man starving.

“There's very little I think about more than you,” I admit solemnly.

Her lower lip trembles. A raindrop catches there, then dives to its death. “Dominic, I don't care what your parents think about you. They're flat out wrong. You're not worthless. Especially not to me.”

Her feet move forward; she sinks on a patch of mud. Her legs go out from under her. She's about to hit the ground and the damp thorny branches, but I'm faster than gravity.

I jump forward, grabbing her forearms, keeping her upright. The rain makes her skin wet, and everything smells like fresh cut grass, like the world has been sliced open and all the green has poured out right here into our private clearing.

A flame of desire lights inside of me. It had dimmed during our fight, but the acceptance in her eyes pours on the gasoline. “Tell me,” I demand. “Tell me all the reasons that you want me.” Her eyebrows fly upwards. I watch her neck flex as she swallows nervously. “If you can't tell me why,” I whisper, “then let me tell you whyIwantyou.”

I watch how her mouth puckers. She's thinking about kissing me and it drives me fucking mad.

“I want you because of the way you move,” I say. “I want you because of how your hair feels in my fingers. I want you because you're my light in the darkness, strength where there is none. Because you're the only person in this broken world that cares about their promises.”

Her pupils are round, undeniably shining with overwhelmed tears. “Dominic.” My name catches in her throat.

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