Page 26 of Silver Fox
We get out of the SUV, but a gust of wind brings all the anxiety back as I realize what I’m wearing. It’s nothing risqué—a sequined black dress that hugs my breasts, pulled in at the waist with a black belt. It ends at my midthigh, but I’m wearing a thick pair of tights beneath.
It’s miles away from what Brett would have let me go out in.
He abhorred me wearing anything that emphasized my figure, insisting on shapeless, frumpy outfits that hid me beneath them.
But then Silas is there, holding his hand out, a stack of empty storage boxes under his other arm. “You ready, pretty girl?”
My shoulders relax, and I smile as I place my palm in his. “I’m ready.”
Silas knocks, and it takes Brett a minute or two to answer the door. He’s dressed in joggers and an old wrestling hoodie, wearing a foul expression as he takes us in—and I notice the dismissive curve in his lip when he looks over my outfit.
Before I would have wilted, but today I glare right back. “I’m here to collect my stuff. As you so kindly asked me to.”
Brett’s eyes flick to Silas. “Why is he here?”
“To protect my girl from the likes of you,” Silas bites back, his tone low and hard.
I half expect Brett to argue, but he steps aside, his hateful gaze landing on us both in equal measure.
My eyes are wide when I enter the apartment. The kitchen counter is full of dirty dishes, and I recognize the tubs of protein powder left out on the side. Before they would be safely stored out of sight, but now they’re left out in the open—in addition to the sprinkling of powder on the counter.
In the living room, I can still see the now-dried rose petals on the floor. The same ones that were scattered around the room on Valentine’s Day. Brett’s PlayStation is on the TV screen, paused mid-game. The controller is on the coffee table, nestled among a selection of empty beer cans and vape pens. Ah, and there’s the wrestling equipment dumped next to the front door. Wrinkling my nose, I wonder when he last washed his gym clothes.
Brett was always messy, but this is ridiculous. I turn to him, my eyebrows raised. “When did you last clean?”
“What’s it to you?” he sneers.
For some reason, that makes me smile, and then I realize why. “Nothing,” I say softly. “You’re nothing to me.”
Not waiting for a reply, I lead Silas into the bedroom Brett and I shared. The bed is unmade, but I note that the bedding hasn’t changed since I left. Stepping over the dirty socks littering the floor, I’m relieved at the sight of my bookshelf.
I was worried Brett would rip it to pieces in my absence, but it looks untouched, albeit dusty.
Silas and I work quickly, filling several of the storage boxes with books alone. I direct Silas around the apartment, and he follows me like a hawk, ever watchful. The sound of Brett’s PlayStation drifts through the apartment, but it takes less than an hour to pack up all of my possessions.
The longer we stay in the apartment, the worse it gets. The spills of liquid down the front of the kitchen cupboards. The overflowing bin. The crumbs on the sofa. The bedsheets coming loose from the corners of the bed. The water stains all over the bathroom faucets.
The new toothbrush at the sink. The high heels next to the door that don’t belong to me. The hair straightener I’ve never seen before.
Sara is living here, I’m sure of it.
Strangely though, I don’t care. Brett and I were comfortable together, but I wasn’t happy. Clearly he wasn’t either. I don’t forgive Brett or Sara, but in a way it makes my decision easier.
Silas brought me to life, and I know then and there that my new life won’t involve Brett or Sara.
If Mom was still alive, perhaps it would be different. But at this point there’s nothing tying Sara and I together but memories.
When all my stuff is packed, I stand at the front door looking inwards, with Silas propped up against the SUV’s hood.
Brett looks over, not even bothering to pause his game. His eyes scan my figure, but he says nothing.
“You and Sara deserve each other,” I tell him, closing the front door with a decisivethud.
Silas and I are silent on the way back to his apartment, the boxes full of my possessions loaded into the trunk. His hand wraps around my thigh with a possessive edge, and I slide my fingers around his thick wrist.
While it’s true my new life won’t involve Brett or Sara, god I hope Silas becomes a permanent feature. He’s everything I didn’t know I needed, but does he feel the same?
I think about the life he’s led up to this point. Devoting his time and effort to growing Silver Mobility into the powerhouse it is today, living in a penthouse at the top of an apartment block. It’s about as far from a white picket fence as it’s possible to be.
