Page 76 of Push My Buttons
The floor seems to tilt beneath me. My legs go weak as I grip the wall for support. They've been lying to me. All this time, while I believed I was safe, while I trusted them, they've been hiding the truth.
The stalker never stopped.
I must make a sound because they both turn suddenly, their expressions shifting from concern to guilt when they see me standing there. I clamp my fingers into fists, knuckles whitening.
"Wren," Jace says. "How long have you been—"
"What chocolates?"I sign as I move slowly toward them, my hands shaking so violently that when they smack together it echoes like a whip crack."What music box? What notes?"
They exchange a look that makes my stomach drop further—that silent communication that now feels like betrayal rather than connection. "We were going to tell you," Theo says, stepping toward me. His voice is low, careful. "Today, actually. We decided last night—"
"How long?"I sign, cutting him off. My right hand slams against the counter with a sharp thud. "How long have you been lying to me?"
Jace's face is pale, his eyes pained. "Since the beginning," he admits quietly. "We wanted you to feel safe. To heal. The stalker never stopped, but we've been intercepting everything before you could see it."
Theo glances at Jace, then back at me. “We were even going to talk you into going to the police,” he says, eyes flicking with guilt. “To ask for their help and finally make this stop.”
My chest tightens. I feel sweat prick my brow, cold dread pooling in my gut. I feel like I might be sick. All these weeks I've been healing, finding my voice, believing I was protected—while they conspired in whispers behind my back, keeping me in blissful ignorance.
"Show me,"I sign it like a command, my hands rigid and trembling, leaving no room for argument.
Theo exhales, shoulders drooping, and nods at Jace. Jace stoops to grab his laptop bag from beside the counter. From it, he pulls out a small wooden box. When he opens it, I see them—dozens of items, each in its own plastic bag. Photographs of me walking to work. Pressed flowers. Handwritten notes. And there, on top, a child's music box.
My knees buckle. Theo lunges to catch me, but I jerk back, my hand smacking against his chest. The hurt that flashes across his face hardly registers—I’m too stunned.
"These have been coming all along?"I sign, my hands shaking. My hands flutter like wounded birds."While you told me I was safe? While you let me believe it was over?"
"We were protecting you," Jace says, eyes glistening. His voice trembles with something like regret. "You were finally sleeping through the night. Speaking again. We didn't want to set you back."
"By lying to me?"I lash out, my signs sharp and punctuated by slaps of my palms."By taking away my choice? My right to know what's happening in my own life?"
"It was wrong," Theo admits, gaze dropping to the floor before looking back at me pleadingly. "We know that now. We were going to tell you everything today, I swear."
A terrible thought strikes me. My chest tightens so much I can hardly breathe. I shove a fist into my hair, tangling my fingers in pink strands briefly.
"Is that why you never said it?"I sign, my hands jerk with each word."Why neither of you ever said you loved me? Because this is just a game to you two? Playing protector, playing hero?"
Their faces freeze, horror dawning.
“What? No!” Theo blurts, stepping forward again, but I fling my hands toward him to hold him back. "Wren, that's not—"
"We thought you needed space," Jace says, but his words slip away beneath the roar of betrayal in my ears. "Time to heal without pressure. Without expectations."
I shake my head, and my hair swings around my face. Their explanations feel like chains tightening. They’ve made decisions about me—my life—without ever including me. Just like everyone else. My doctors. The police. My brother. Everyone thinking they know what's best for Lilliana Cain.
I back away, shoving my feet into my shoes by the door. I snatch my bag from the hook, keys rattling in my hand.
"Where are you going?" Jace asks, panic flitting across his face.
"Work,"I sign curtly."My shift starts in an hour."
"I'll drive you," Theo offers, already fumbling for his keys.
"No." The word rips from my throat—raw, jagged. It stops them both cold. I swallow hard, before my hands start moving again."You’re right, I do need space, from both of you. Time to think."
"Wren, please," Jace steps toward me, vulnerability shining in his eyes as his fingers tap rapidly against his thigh. "It's not safe for you to go alone."
I stare at him, and the bitter irony tastes like ash.“Apparently nowhere is safe,”I sign in sharp movements."Not even here with you."
