Page 65 of Heartless Game

“What the hell is wrong with me? He humiliated me at the party and…and then he did other awful things, has done terrible things, and I should hate him. I should want him dead. But…”

“But you don’t,” she said understandingly.

“But I don’t,” I finished, feeling pathetic.

She sat on the edge of the bed, grabbing my hand in hers, and squeezed. I squeezed back.

“I get it. Truly. Jack did—things he should be in prison for life for, truly. I should never, ever, have spoken to him again. But somehow, the good he did and that he’s still doing outweighs the bad from when the whole messy thing began between the two of us. Logically, it makes no sense. But I’ve given up on logic. I love him, and he loves me.”

I laughed. “Isaac doesn’t love me. And I don’t love him.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because it seems like these boys do the absolute craziest things when they start to fall. I’m not excusing it, to be clear. But it being horribly wrong doesn’t make it any less true.”

God, if she was right…and why did I want her to be right so badly? Because I did, I wanted it, I longed for it—even though I should hate him. Even though I never, ever, wanted to see him again, unless it was at his funeral.

“I still want to kill him,” I told her.

“Oh, believe me, me too,” she assured me, and we both laughed.

“I missed you,” I said.

Her face turned serious and accusing. “Well then why did you disappear? I haven’t heard from you in days.”

This at least I could tell her—right?

I groaned. “He took my phone.”

Her hand tightened painfully on mine. “He what?! Why?”

I answered more or less truthfully. “He doesn’t trust me not to write an article or make a post about what’s going on.”

She loosened her grip but didn’t let go. “And whatisgoing on?”

Looking her in the eyes, I admitted, “I can’t tell you. I really, really wish I could, but I can’t. It wouldn’t be safe for either of us.”

Her voice rose. “Fuck safe. All I care about is that you’re okay.”

I knew that. Which is why she couldn’t know anything about the Silvers, or my past. I didn’t want to use previous conversations against her, but in this case, I had to.

“Aviva, remember a while back, when you were dealing with stuff with Jack, and you asked me to give you space and not push for answers?” Her eyes narrowed, and even though it hurt me to bring this up, I pushed ahead. “I’m asking for the same thing.”

There was silence between us as she processed my words, remembering. After a moment, she nodded.

“I don’t like it, but I guess I have to give you that. Just promise me one thing, okay? Don’t disappear on me. I won’t judge you for being with him or making sacrifices for…whatever or whoever it is you’re protecting, but I need you around, and to do whatever I can to make you as okay as you can be.”

“Promise,” I said, not mentioning that she was one of the people I was protecting.

“Good.” She scooted up on the bed, sitting next to me, back against the slatted wooden headboard.

“What are you doing?”

“Watching TV with you until you fall asleep. I’m here, okay? I’m here.”

Her words made me cry all over again. But I settled back against the bed, our hands remaining linked as we watched people find homes—something I’d never really had and never would have.

25

Isaac

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