CHAPTER FIVE

It was some time later.  We’d showered together, then laid back down on the bed, naked, limbs entangled, when I asked, “Why on earth did he bring me here?  It makes no sense.  He’s clearly bothered by us being together.  What is he to you?”

“I can’t tell you that.  Are you upset that he did?”

“No.  Of course not.  That’s about the only thing I’m not upset about.”

“I’m sorry I can’t give you any answers.  I know you don’t understand why.”

“You know what?  You telling me that you can’t answer is better than all of the lies.”

She pulled back to look me in the eye, nodding solemnly.  “I can understand that.  I’ll try my best to level with you from here on out.”

“It’s just that easy, huh?”

“I don’t know.  It’s going to be an adjustment for me.”

“Clearly,” I said wryly.  “Why don’t we give you a little practice?  How about I try asking you a question, and you actually try giving me an honest answer?”

She looked vaguely uncomfortable at the notion, but she replied with, “Okay.  I’ll give you one, if it’s something I can answer.”

The perfect one came to mind instantly.  “How old are you?”

She grimaced.  It was adorable, and alarming.  “You won’t be happy when I tell you.”

“Happier than I am right now, with you saying a thing like that.  Tell me.”

She took a very deep breath.  “Almost nineteen.”

I felt vaguely ill.  It was too young, still legal, but way beyond my comfort zone.

“What does almost mean?  So you’re eighteen?”

“Yes.”

“And when is your birthday?”

“In around six months.”

“That’s not almost.  Wait, do I even want to know . . . how old were you when we first . . . ?”

“Eighteen.  I knew you were going to ask that.”

Why was twenty-four so much more palatable than eighteen?

After I must have been sitting quietly for a while, mind reeling, basically beating myself up, she spoke again, sounding troubled.  “I knew you’d react like this.  That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“Didn’t tell me?  Is that what you’re going to call it?  You flat out lied about it, even provided proof for the lie.”

She opened her mouth as though to speak, then closed it again, staying silent.  She just stared at me while I stewed about how ridiculously, uncomprehendingly young she was.

“You realize I’m more than twice your age,” I pointed out, finally breaking a long silence.

“Barely.  And this is why I lied about it.  I knew you’d overreact.  You’re already making me rethink this not lying idea.”

“Clearly you need more practice at it.  Let’s try another one.  Am I older than your dad?”

“No.  You’re quite a bit younger.  Does that make you feel any better?”

“Not particularly.”

“You need to go back with Heath in the morning.”  She was blatantly changing the subject.

She knew well how to work me, because it worked.

“No.  I won’t leave you here.  Not possible.”

“Don’t rile him.” She traced the bruise on my jaw, her eyes troubled.  “He’s a very dangerous man.  You have to go back without me.”

I studied her, wondering if she really didn’t understand me that well.  Sometimes it felt like she knew me better than I knew myself, so it was certainly a new (and demoralizing) notion.

Even as I had the thought, I caught a glint in her eyes, a flash of genuine worry that righted the world back onto its axis and had me breathing easier.

Her understanding me was one of the few things about Iris that I’d always been certain of, and I’d have been crushed if even that were a lie.

Her concern told me it was not.

“You know I can’t do that,” I told her gently.

The concern turned to something akin to panic.  “He’s armed, and he has a terrible temper, and he hates you.  Also, he has backup.  Lots of it.  There’s no way you can take him on.  You understand that, don’t you?”

I took a very deep breath.  I’d never considered myself to be particularly brave.  In fact, I’d never much considered it at all, but I knew that I’d do whatever I needed to, regardless of the risk, to get Iris out of this mess.

“Please, Dair, please.  I’m begging you here.  Please, just do what he says.  I’d never be able to live with myself if you got hurt in all of this.”

“You and I have different priorities, but I think you know that.  I’m much more concerned about you not getting hurt.”

“There’s nothing you can do about what happens to me.  I wish you could see that. But dragging you into it, getting you hurt, that can be prevented.  You don’t have to get involved.”

That had my hackles rising.  “I don’t have to?  How about this: I am involved.  What did you think would happen?  You pursued me.  You gave yourself to me.  You made me care about you, and I can’t stand by while you’re in danger, held captive here for God only knows what reason, and do nothing!”