Page 195 of Indulge
“You want a future,” I say quietly. “Not a fantasy, not survival. A real one. Somewhere you don’t have to be anyone’s weapon.”
The room goes silent.
Even the candle seems to hold its breath.
She lowers her gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. “That was supposed to be a trick question.”
“It never is with you,” I say.
And for the first time since these games began, she looks at me like she’s not testing me anymore. Like she’s terrified I might already know every answer she’s spent her whole life trying to hide.
I know it because I feel that too. Wearing a mask every damn day to be someone else, when sometimes all you want to do is run away and hide.
Like after I was shot. It made me realize how quick it can all be ripped from you, and what had I done with my life other than barely survive it?
She flips another card. Her hand trembles, just slightly, but she hides it behind that sharp little smile she always wears when she’s afraid someone might see too much.
“What do I do when I’m scared?” she asks.
Reggie answers first, calm and steady. “You get mean. You pick fights to remind yourself you’re still in control.”
She tilts her head. “That’s not wrong.”
I watch her fingers trace the edge of the next card. “You isolate,” I say quietly. “You push everyone away so no one sees you fall apart. Because if someone sees it, it makes it real.”
Her lips twitch, and her eyes dart between us. “You’re both right.”
She exhales, flips another. “What would make me walk away from someone I love?”
Reggie leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Betrayal. You could forgive a lie, but not a broken promise.”
I shake my head. “Fear. You’d walk before anyone else could hurt you. It’s not about them, it’s about what you think you deserve.”
She looks down at the table, jaw trembling. “Maybe both.”
The candlelight flickers, shadows moving across her face.
“What’s the one thing I can’t forgive?”
Reggie doesn’t even hesitate. “Someone trying to cage you.”
I answer slower. “Someone taking your trust and twisting it.”
She stares at the candle, voice softer. “Those might be the same thing.”
She shuffles again, but her eyes never leave ours. “What would I look like as a wife?”
Reggie smirks, but his voice is gentle. “A force. You’d run the world barefoot and make everyone thank you for it.”
Her lips part, but I add quietly, “You’d let yourself need someone without calling it weakness.”
Her breath catches, and she presses her hand over her heart for a moment, like she’s trying to hold herself together.
The next card makes her hesitate. “What about me scares you most?”
Reggie answers first. “That you’ll break yourself proving you’re unbreakable.”
My throat tightens. “That one day you’ll look at us and realize you don’t need either of us to be whole.”
