Page 55 of When Sinners Fall
He runs his hands through his hair and turns away from me, leaving me in the second bedroom.
I follow after him. “Seriously, I can’t stay here forever.”
“I fucking know that, alright!” he shouts. The tone sends my nerves scattering. I rub my arms as I hold onto myself, feeling very alone despite him being right there. “But right now, I can’t have you anywhere but with me.” His eyes meet mine, and I search for the boy I once knew. I search for the man who talked of the concept of love and try to rationalise his behaviour with what he’s shown. I can’t find any rational anything. Who would? So I shake my head and turn towards the bedroom, slamming the door as I go.
A few hours later and my stomach tells me it’s time to come out of the bedroom. My room, I guess. Part of me hoped that he would come in and talk to me – that we could talk this out, but that isn’t his style. I know that much about him.
Peeking around the door, I listen, but the house is quiet. Still, I tiptoe out to find him. He’s sitting in a haze of smoke in the living room. Staring at the wall. Maybe he is as lost as I feel right now.
“Hey.” I go and join him, sitting at the other end of the couch and tucking my legs up underneath me.
“Hey.”
“I think we need to talk.”
“Wren, I’ve talked more today than any fucking day of my life. Enough.”
“No. Just listen, okay.” He looks over at me and nods. “Good. Right. I get that, at the moment, you feel the need to protect me. And, I think I can understand that.” My face frowns as I think about all the other stuff he talked about, but that’s not what this conversation is about. “I don’t want to talk about your family or your work, not now, at least, but me, here, without going out, we can’t live this way. I have a job, I have friends and family, and I need to be able to live my own life. There’s got to be some sort of compromise.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Um, in theory, yes.”
“Then isn’t that enough for you to do as I ask?”
“You’ve got to meet me halfway, Dante. That’s what a relationship is about,” I plead, scooting over to him on the couch.
“You are as important to me as the rest of my family. And I need to protect you.” He picks me up and I straddle his lap. “I can’t do that if I don’t know where you are. I need that control, Wren Bird.” His words are laced with such venom, but it’s hard not to romanticise the sentiment.
“Okay. Okay.” My arms circle his neck, and I pull him against me.
We stay like that for a while; the tension still heavy between us.
“I’ll come up with a plan. But you’ll have to do as I say, Wren. You will have to trust me, or I’ll go fucking insane.” He leans back to look up at me.
“So, not locked in the apartment?” I check that that’s what he’s meaning.
“We’ll figure something out,” he grumbles.
“Great.” I take a deep breath. I still have no real clue as to how it will work, but he’s listening. “Why don’t we go out, call it a celebration for moving in together. A normal, mundane date, in amongst all of the crazy.”
“You think anything between us has ever been normal?” He pulls me down and kisses my lips, short-circuiting my mind and breaking the tension. He’s right. What part of our relationship has been anywhere close to normal? Stalking, sex clubs and murder and kidnap don’t register anywhere close in my definition.
“Well, this can be a first then. A meal out. Somewhere nice that we don’t have to drive for over an hour or hide in some sex club to enjoy.” I run my hands up his chest and rest them on his shoulders. I know what I’m doing, and so does he, but if his parameters for protection are going to be followed, I’m going to have to find my own ways to make him see sense.
“Did you listen to me earlier? Or didn’t you hear me when I said it wasn’t safe!” he snaps.
“You just said we’d figure something out. And I’m not talking about going out alone. You can choose the place, but I won’t be a hostage. I did listen earlier. And, despite all you said, and what you did, I’m still here, aren’t I? But how can we have a relationship if we can’t do normal things? I won’t be kept locked away.”
My heart pounds in my chest at how he might react. He just looks at me. Continues to, as if my words are another challenge he’s not about to accept. I need him to, though. I just need him to give – to show me there’s some way we find a balance in the middle of this.
“I know a place,” he eventually mutters.
“Great. And you’ll have to take me back to my place first.”
“Why?”
“Do you expect me to wear this for the rest of my life?” I put my arms out and raise my palms. “I need clothes, Dante. Unless you’d prefer I just wear one of your shirts?” I know I’m pushing his buttons, but after the last couple of days, I can’t just shrivel up and bow under all the pressure of what he's said. It’s an option. I could be the meek and kept woman, locked away for her own good, but that’s not me. And despite everything that he says, I don’t think he wants me to be that either.
