Page 36 of Shadow Dance

“If you go, you’ll never come back,” he says, palms up, like the matter’s out of ourcontrol when really, it’s just out of his.

“That’s not true,” I say, but it probably is.

A shadow flickers across his face, his features tightening in a way I’ve seen more and more lately. The corners of his mouth dip down and his eyes seem to flatten, cold and unreadable.

A stranger.

“I’m thinking just a few weeks,” I lie. “Maybe I can go trick-or-treating with my nephew.”

“How am I gonna be a devil without an angel at my side?” he teases, referencing the costumes we got for Halloween.

A tinge of desperation blooms in my belly. “All right, maybe I can go for Thanksgiving, then.”

“You know what hurts, Maeve?”

I pause at his soft tone. “What?”

“That after all this time, you still choose them.” He gives me a sardonic smile, shaking his head.

“What are you talking about, Callum? They’re my family!” I cry. “It’s not about choosing.”

“It is, though.”

“It’s not. I can love you and love them.”

“Nah, because your brothers always looked at me like I was beneath them, and you know what? I’m tired of that shit. I don’t need it, and I definitely don’t need you going back there and having everybody fucking brainwashing you and turning you against me, okay?” he says, his voice getting louder. “It’s been us against the world from day one.”

He’s always said that, and I used to kind of like the melodramatic romanticism of it, but now I have to wonder if it’s rooted in reality. It’s true that my brothers don’t like him, and I always thought they were hypocrites for judging him while they were living crazy lives themselves. But his lifestyle wasn’t the problem. It was his attitude. They saw something I didn’t.

“I know guys like this, Mae,”Lucky said once, after Callum sent me dozens of roses in apology for something nasty he’d said. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Funny how I’d forgotten about that. “How many times are you gonna take him back? You can do better.”

“It’s just a visit,” I say again. “I’d never stop you from seeing your parents or your sister.”

“Lucky for you I don’t want to see them,” he says with a sneer. “Not my dad, anyway. Listen, is this about what happened today? That why you’re being all weird?”

“I don’t even know what happened today,” I say, trying so hard to stay calm. It’s nearly impossible because no matter what I say, he twists it into something else. “So no, this has nothing to do with that. I just want to take a break.”

“A break? From me?” Tears run down his cheeks, but they’re angry tears. Not sad. My heart rate spikes, and I swallow, forcing myself to chill out.

“No, no. No. I just want to visit my parents, Callum. You know my dad’s health is fragile.”

“Your dad’s fine. He’s been fine for a long time, so stop lying,” he says. “I can’t believe this shit. After everything I’ve done for you. I bought this house with you in mind, Maeve. I built that stupid ballet room for you! There isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for you!”

Yeah, except let me go home. “Callum, stop. You’re being irrational. This would just be for a few days, okay? Maybe Jaime can go with me,” I offer in a burst of inspiration. Maybe if I have a babysitter, he’d be more confident in my return.

“Have I not provided?” he rants, not hearing me. Rising from the bed, he begins to pace back and forth like a lion in a cage that’s way too small.

Resentment swells until I feel like a balloon about to burst. I know it’s the drugs talking, but this is the kind of garbage his father used to say to his mother, right before he’d backhand her. Callum hated his guts, and yet here we are, playing the same twisted games. They say violence begets violence, that it’s generational, that it cycles.

The realization is like a bucket of ice water. This isn’t a game. If I want to prevent what we have from turning into what his parents had, I’m going to have to be really careful. “Yes, you do provide,” I say gently, placating him.

“Haven’t I always given you everything?”

You give me nothing.

“Yes, you do, Callum.”

“Twelve years.Twelve yearsand you’re ready to go run home to Daddy like a little bitch.” He stops in front of me, scowling at me in a way that steals my breath. Even at our worst, he’s never spoken to me like this. Has his drug use completely warped his mind? Or did it just bring out the monster that’s been lying dormant all this time? “You know, Maeve, they say living with somebody shows you who they really are. Maybe that’s why we’ve lasted so long. We were never in the same place long enough for me to know who you really were.”

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