The scream I so desperately wanted to unleash reverberated in my head. It filled every crook and crevice of my mind until I couldn’t breathe. Frustration filled my lungs instead of air, and I so desperately wanted to let it out, but I’d spent my entire life learning to keep it in.
More than that, I’d taught myself to keep emotions so buried that they couldn’t find the surface. If they didn’t even exist, I didn’t have to rein them in. Life was a series of check marks. I knew what was expected of me and accomplished tasks to further those goals. Everything was so much easier that way.
And then I met Keir.
He was an earthquake that split my surface wide open. He’d created a crevasse down to the deepest parts of me, allowing everything I’d buried to leak free. The damage to my defenses was too catastrophic to duct tape over. I’d tried, but it wasn’t working. A hurricane of emotion was brewing, and I had no idea how I’d survive it.
Keir’s parting words were the distant rumbles of thunder, teasing devastation. I’d never hated my last name so damn much.
That, Miss Alexander, is fucked up.
“Fuck you, Mr. Byrne. You don’t even know the half of it.”
I bent and shoved my sofa as far as it would go into the kitchen area, then put in my AirPods. Normally, I would change clothes before dancing, but I didn’t usually have an overbearing Irishman challenging the very core of my identity.
I kicked off my shoes and put on my most angsty, emotional playlist. Lana Del Rey’s “Happiness is a Butterfly” filled my ears, the perfect balm to my aching soul. It was times like this my ten years of ballet training seeped into my dancing. If I was working out frustration or expressing joy, I tended to go with much more contemporary choreography, but tonight, no matter how angry I thought I was, the music and my moves were born out of elegant anguish only ballet could capture.
I pushed myself until my calves ached and my stomach growled with hunger. Until I’d relived our kiss a thousand times over and could no longer remember why I hadn’t begged him to come back.
I felt more alive around Keir than I’d felt in years, more like myself, and that terrified me. I’d thought there was only one thing I feared, but I’d been wrong. Being me—giving a voice to my desires and emotions—truly scared me because that path led to nothing but heartbreak and shame.
My choices weren’t my own. My choices impacted other people, and I couldn’t forget that. If I allowed myself to want what I couldn’t have, I’d be more miserable than Keir thought I already was.
I’d already put Dad’s career at risk because I couldn’t set aside my curiosity. I didn’t regret finding the girl, but I worried about the fallout. If Wellington’s activities became public knowledge, what would that do to my father? He already had that hanging over his head, how could I even entertain a relationship with a known criminal? My parents would be devastated. Not that I could avoid that fate. They’d be crushed no matter what when I broke up with Stetson. I knew it was over with him, but I’d been unable to admit it to Keir. He’d already turned my life upside down and conceding the timing and manner of my breakup to him was one step too far. I needed to maintain some illusion of control.
That need for control was the same reason it had made sense to ration my hopes and desires. If I didn’t allow myself to want something other than what I could have, there would never be any disappointments. The only thing that was important was protecting the people I cared about. And while I didn’t truly know the Russian girl, I felt responsible for her as well. If I could get her to safety without damaging my father’s reputation in the process, all of this turmoil would have been worth it.
The wisp of a quiet voice in my head tried to gain purchase. I knew what she’d have to say. She’d try to convince me emotions weren’t the problem like she’d done so many times before, but I didn’t have the capacity to listen. I turned up my music instead and relished the absence of thought.
Stetson called the following morning. I was ashamed of my disappointment when it wasn’t Keir. My irritation at my reaction was part of the reason I answered the call. The other reason was the fact that technically taking a call from Stetson wasn’t breaking Keir’s rule of staying away. I still saw merit in keeping our relationship alive for the sake of the girl.
“Hey, I thought I’d swing by and walk to class with you,” Stetson said in a warm voice. “I had a meeting with our finance guy, and your place is on the way back to campus.”
I’d already been debating what to do because that morning’s economics class was the one class we had together. “I was about to call you. My stomach is still acting up. Think I need to stay in today. You good with taking notes?”
“Yeah, no problem.” He paused. “You don’t think … you could be … I mean…”
“What? No! Not at all. This is just a bug, promise.”
A whooshing exhale filled my ear.
“Not that we couldn’t figure that out, but we’ve both got plans. You understand, right?” He tried to smooth things over.
“Yeah, Stetson. I get it. Babies are not on the agenda.”
“That’s my girl,” he said with a smile I could hear. “I’d ask if you need anything, but I’d hate to catch whatever you have. Guess I could drop Gatorade or food at your door if you really needed something.”
Our highly independent relationship had always suited me just fine, but it suddenly seemed so vacuous and insincere. I wasn’t actually sick, but would it have been so terrible for him to want to take care of me if I was? Mom and Dad would never have stayed away from one another in that instance just to keep themselves healthy. That defeated the purpose of being partners—of being that one person you could count on no matter what.
I shook my head, disappointed in myself for having been so blind. “That’s okay, Stetson. I wouldn’t want to get you sick.”
“Let me know if it gets worse. Dad has a family doc who does house calls. I could send him your way.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.” It was strange talking to him, knowing I’d be breaking things off while he was in the dark. I had to pretend nothing had changed and there wasn’t an abused young woman chained in the attic of his house. I shuddered at the memory of her.
“Yeah, we need to get you better. I have a game tomorrow night over in Jersey. You know I like having my girl in the stands.” His words planted the seed of an idea.
“Well, if I can’t, hopefully your dad can make it.” I held my breath in anticipation of his answer.
“Nah, he’s got some meeting here in the city. Man was he pissed when I told him about the fire department showing up yesterday—well, about the fact that they insisted on a walk-through. I bet he reamed the chief today.”
“They were just making sure everything was okay.” I hoped no one got in trouble because of me.
“That’s what I told him. No harm, no foul. I had it all under control.”
“What time is the game tomorrow?” I asked nonchalantly.
“Five. I’ll drop a pin and text you. Let me know if you think you can make it.”
“I will.”
“Get some rest, Ro.”
“’Kay, talk to you later.” I hung up, my mind racing.
If Stetson and his father would both be out of the house, I could get a message to the girl. Hannah would still be on duty until five. She could let me in, and I could run a message upstairs and be back out in five minutes flat—something translated into Russian to let her know we were going to get her out of there. Keir didn’t want me around the Wellingtons, but I never promised to stay away from the girl. One quick trip inside. After that, I would feel I’d done what I could to reassure her, and everything else could be done from a distance.
