Page 83 of Butterfly

“What’s wrong?” Sienna speeds up to keep up with my long strides.

“I don’t like Dylan.” Why lie?

“I don’t like him either.”

“Really?”

“I mean, he’s a nice guy, but I’m not interested in him inthatway.” She pauses. “He said something about you having stolen his role as D’Artagnan.”

“He blew it. He’s too vile to admit it.” Besides, my story with Rebecca started after I was chosen for that role. I had nothing to do with Dylan losing his job.

Sienna parts her lips, then closes them again.

“What?” I ask.

She nudges me with her shoulder. “Stop being so brooding and let’s go home. I’d like to see your pantry again.”

~ * ~

SOMETIMES DREAMS COME true. After three days of having dinner with my family and drinking tea, I’m finally driving back to London with Sienna. Alone at last.

“I’m glad we’re returning to London,” I say, speeding up.

“So am I.” She reclines her head. “Your family is amazing, but these few days have been intense. I’m a bit tired.”

“And I’m glad we talked.” I hold her hand briefly, keeping an eye on the motorway.

“So am I.”

“What happened to you after Walter’s death?”

She stiffens but doesn’t clam up. “I stayed at the hospital for a few days while a stream of police officers and psychologists came to interview me. My foster mother never visited me. There was a hearing, and between my testimony, the video, and the evidence of Walter’s abuse, they let me go with a clean slate.”

“Why did your foster mother keep you? I guess she paid for the school and everything.”

She shakes her head. “I won a scholarship that covered all the expenses as long as I stayed in the school dormitory. Had I chosen to have my own flat, I would’ve needed to pay for it. She didn’t want to deal with me in any way. The shock of her husband’s death was too strong for her.”

“Hell, Sienna.” I brush her cheek quickly. I can’t believe she endured so much.

She shrugs. “I think she was secretly happy that Walter was dead.” A sad vibe rings out, and I squeeze her hand.

“Sod her.” I kiss her knuckles. “You’re everything to me, Sienna.”

She lifts our entwined hands and brushes mine with her lips.

“What about the blood?” I ask. “In the forest, you panicked when you saw your blood, but you’re fine when you do surgery.”

She laughs. I love that sound. “Blood doesn’t bother me. It’s the combination of blood with pain and being hit that triggers me. That day in the forest, I bled because you hit me, and it was painful. That did it. I was with Walter again.” She pales as her voice lowers.

“It’s because of him that you…wanted to die,” I say in a whisper.

“Yes.” She rubs her wrist. “The guilt and sense of worthlessness were too much.”

I wait for her to add something else, but she doesn’t, and I don’t want to force her. It’s a miracle that she’s talking to me about her darkest moments. One step at a time.

“Listen.” I slow down as the traffic increases in proximity to London. “Why don’t you come with me when we start shooting season two? Can you take a few days off and come on set? Martin will be there, and we’ll have some time to spend together.”

“Can we spend any time together though? You’ll be working for the whole day.”

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