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I laughed bitterly. “A better idea than this.” I waved my hands between us, and Elliot’s features scrunched into a full-on scowl.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Calliope?”
I reached into my purse for my compact, opening it to touch up my makeup. And so I didn’t have to look him square in the face when I said what I had to say. Putting on the façade that I didn’t care.
“You’re dawn, and I’m midnight,” I sighed. “You care about sea turtles and recycling and planet Earth. I couldn’t give a shitabout the sea turtles, certainly not recycling, and I’m sure Earth is going to burn whether we drive electric cars or whatever the fuck it is we’re supposed to do because the billionaires still use private jets, and cruise liners still slog through the oceans full of trash.” I placed my finger on the edge of my lips, wiping away a smudge of my lipstick. “I’m here to make myself richer, and to do that, I work for the billionaires ruining Earth. And though it may irk me a little, it’s not enough to stop me.” I snapped my compact closed.
Needing to press on, there was nothing to do but look at Elliot. “I will do nothing but pollute you just like those bottles I don’t recycle pollute our atmosphere.”
The words hurt coming out, but not nearly as hard as they hit the air in his house, a place that had known nothing but happiness, decimating the man who didn’t deserve any of this.
He stepped forward, pulling me to him, and I let him, gritting my teeth against the contact.
“It kind of sounds like you’re saying goodbye, and it’s scaring the shit out of me, Calliope.” His expression was grave, hands tight on my hips. “Because it’s sounding like you’re not just preparing to not only leave but not planning to come back at all.”
There was a storm in his silver eyes, but I felt at home in it. That storm was for me. The anxiety, the anger, the desperation … it was for me.
I squeezed my eyes shut so the tears wouldn’t fall, so I’d find the strength to say what I needed to. When I opened my eyes, I was relieved that they were dry, that my expression was free of any of the emotion that was ripping through my insides like jagged glass.
“I’m attached to living,” I said in an even tone. “So I'll try my level best to not let a pack of men be my end. I consider myself too narcissistic to go to New York expecting not to come back.” I drew in a deep breath. “Regardless, Iwillensure that I protectmy family. Yours. You.” My heart splintered. “And I’ll do that by losing my life if I must.” The plan had not been to talk about sacrifices or anything noble. It had been to be so needlessly cruel that he’d let me go without a fight.
But I found myself unable. Me. Calliope Derrick. Unable to hurt a man.
Unable to hurt the man I loved.
I would go to the grave with many sins, but that would not be one of them.
“You will fuckin’not,” he growled. “You will fucking not go at this alone. I get feminism, and I appreciate it. I’ll march in the streets with you when this is over, I’ll do whatever the fuck you want. But you cannot let yourself die at the hands of a bunch of fucking men when you’ve got plenty of them right here, willing to fight at your side, under your command.”
The passion with which he said the words, the fervor, made him rival Mel Gibson inBraveheartfor most inspiring speech.
I smiled without warmth. The only way I’d be able to keep him safe was to turn into an ice queen, shutting myself off from my feelings.
“You think I need an army of men to fight an army of men?” I shook my head. “I did this. I’m responsible for damning myself, so I’ll be responsible for saving myself.”
His hands tightened on my hips almost to the point of pain. “I’m not going to let you do this, Calliope.”
“And what gave you the impression that you canletme do anything?” I arched a brow at him. “Are you going to knock me out? Tie me to a chair? That’ll slow me down, yes. And taking away my agency will kill anything between us. So do it.” I looked down to his hands on my hips in challenge. “Force me to stay.”
Elliot’s grip flexed for a millisecond before he let go, stepping back. It was no surprise. He would never do that to me.
“I will not force you to do anything, Calliope,” he said quietly. “I’ll ask you to accept help. I’ll get on my knees and fucking beg if that’s what it takes.”
My heart panged, this whole process hurting a lot more than I’d expected. In fact, it was incredibly difficult not to sink to my own knees. I’d never experienced such agony before.
Yet the pain meant I was doing the right thing. Without it, saving myself from being hurt, meant putting Elliot in danger.
Being a good person was excruciating. Figured. That’s why there were so many assholes in the world.
“No,” I replied softly. “I won’t accept help. Because I don’t need it. I’ll fight my battles. Lose them if need be. And you’ll be here, safe.”
Elliot looked fierce, like a warrior ready to battle me. Even though he was good and decent and noble. I saw it then, that protective glint in his eye that I saw in my brother’s when he looked at Nora. Like he’d do anything, be anything in order to keep her safe.
“I’m not safe if you’re in danger.” His whole body vibrated with tension. Grief. Rage.
“I love you,” I smiled, telling him this fact instead of continuing an argument that would run us both into the ground.
He didn’t verbally reply to my words, he grimaced. As if I’d struck him, then he scowled at me. “Don’t youdare,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare say you love me only because you know there’s a chance you won’t be back to live with the consequences of loving me. I won’t accept that shit.”