Page 26

26

Tovah

S omething shook me out of sleep. I opened my eyes to see Isaac in the seat next to me as he turned onto his street and pulled into the driveway.

I shot straight up.

No. This wasn’t happening.

I unbuckled my seatbelt the moment he stopped the car. I couldn’t breathe the same damn air as him.

He clicked the locks shut, and tears I thought I’d run out of spilled from my eyes. I didn’t even bother wiping them away.

“Tovah,” he said into the silence. “I…”

“You what, Isaac? You what? What fucking excuse do you have for what you pulled back there? And no,” I said, holding my hand up. “I don’t care that you warned me you were going to do it earlier. You literally tied me naked in winter to the goddamned founders’ statue at night for anyone to see me. That’s not funny. That’s insane. And what’s more insane? When someone did see me, you descended on them like you were protecting me, when you know what, Isaac? It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t put me there in the first fucking place! ”

I was screaming now, tears pouring faster down my face. Isaac was lucky his closest neighbor was half a mile away, or they would’ve come out to see what the issue was.

“Tovah, you have every right to be angry—” he started.

“Angry? I’m enraged. Livid. Furious . Take your fucking pick, Isaac Silver! God, you’re no better than your father.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his jaw set, a vein throbbing on his forehead. I’d pissed him off with the last.

Good. He deserved it. I refused to feel bad about what I’d said, either.

“Now, let me out of the car,” I said.

He didn’t.

“Isaac! Let me out of the fucking car !” I cried, desperate to get away from him.

But he didn’t unlock the car. Instead, he pulled me toward him while I struggled. Capturing my head in his hands, he kissed me. His mouth moved against mine, desperate and sad, angry and remorseful, and his emotions threatened to swallow me into whatever deep, dark pit he’d climbed into himself.

But I wouldn’t let him drag me down with him, even if the feelings he poured into the kiss made my heart hurt.

What happened to you, Isaac Silver? What broke you?

And why do I even care?

I sat there, stiffly, not opening my mouth to his, and finally with a broken snarl he pulled back.

“You’re still cold,” he said. “Let’s get you inside.”

“I can get myself inside,” I said, and he didn’t respond, just went around the car to the passenger side door and finally unlocked it, lifting me back into his arms like a child or a bride and carrying me into his house the same way he’d carried me out of the hockey house.

Although it had only been hours since we’d left, it felt like I’d aged a million years. I didn’t fight him as he carried me upstairs and through his bedroom into the bathroom. I let him set me down on the sink, watching him as he turned on the water in the shower, testing the temperature.

I only spoke when he started stripping out of his clothes.

Did he really think he was going to join me?

“I can shower on my own,” I told him.

He paused, looking at me, his eyes dark and tortured, with demons roaming in the shadowed depths.

Inhaling slowly, he relaxed his shoulders, looking down at the tile floor.

“I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me,” he said, passing by me and shutting the door softly.

“I won’t,” I said once the door was closed, hating the way my voice trembled.

Pulling Isaac’s shirt off my body, I hopped off the counter and stepped into the shower, closing the glass door. My whole body, which had been stiff and cold, began to tremble, the hot water bringing me back to life. I sobbed, my eyes burning as I sank down to the floor of the shower, pulling my legs into my chest and wrapping my arms around my knees, burying my head against them. Rocking back and forth, I let myself cry, let the water pour over my head.

I wasn’t only crying because of what Isaac had done. No, I cried, angry and helpless, about the ways that men had hurt me over the years, and how helpless I’d been to stop them. How I’d been helpless as a young girl to stop my stepfather from beating my mother, and then later, me, as his threats to kill us got worse and worse. How I’d been unable to do anything but run ever since that fateful day. It didn’t matter that Isaac had untied me from the statue. Not when the danger from his family kept me trapped in this state of desperate fear forever. I’d never be free.

Not from Abe Silver. And not from Isaac, either.

I was so lost in my grief and rage, I didn’t even notice when the shower door opened and I was lifted from the floor of the shower and deposited on Isaac’s lap. He was still in his clothes, but they quickly grew wet as warm water still poured over us.

Now it was him rocking me, and even though I shouldn’t have let him, I accepted the comfort my tormentor offered me as he wrapped me tight in his strong arms and buried his head against my neck.

Gomen’nasai , he was saying. Mujhe kshama karo. Mi dispiace tanto. I didn’t recognize the languages, or the words, but as he kept speaking, I relaxed against him, letting the soft sound of his remorse settle and soothe me until the water turned cold and he turned it off, carrying me out of the shower, drying me off in a fluffy towel before finally removing his soaked clothes and wrapping another towel around his body.

I watched him, curious. Now he was the one who was cold. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, and honestly, I didn’t care. Suddenly, I was bone tired, and all I wanted to do was sleep.

Passing him, I entered his bedroom, grabbing a shirt out of a drawer and pulling it over my head, dropping the towel on the ground listlessly. I walked out of the bedroom and turned right, opening doors until I found a guestroom with a bed. I entered, locking the door behind me.

I’d be sleeping here tonight. And I’d be going home in the morning.

I fell asleep the second my head hit the pillow, and then I dreamed. I dreamed that Isaac entered the room, picking me up and carrying me back to his bedroom, handcuffing our wrists together again, except this time, the handcuff wasn’t metal but was a soft fur and leather bracelet, bracketing my wrist in warmth and an ownership that felt safe. That made me feel achingly whole.

In my dream, Isaac kissed the back of my neck, holding me tight and saying, “I’m so sorry, Tovah. I’m so sorry for the way I hurt you. But I can’t—I won’t—let you go.”

Since his words were absolutely absurd, it had to be a dream.

* * *

When I woke in the morning, I was still in the guest bed, alone.

So it had been a dream. He had not, in fact, carried me back into his bedroom, cuffed me to him, and whispered a heartfelt apology and declaration of caring into my ear while I’d slept.

The disappointment I felt at knowing it was only a dream made me even more sour toward the asshole.

I headed into the bathroom, only to be blocked by boxes upon boxes of hair dye lined up on the floor. They were in every color imaginable, and some I couldn’t have even imagined if I’d tried. There must have been sixty boxes there, all in the brand I liked.

On top of a, yes, millennial pink, box was a note:

Pick whatever color you want. I’ll love it, regardless.

For what it’s worth—and I know it isn’t worth a lot—I’m sorry.

I’ll be home later.

The asshole

Love.

Sorry.

My heart squeezed tight in my chest. He was right, his apology wasn’t worth much. But seeing the word “love” in his handwriting, knowing that even though he hated me dyeing my hair, he’d made it easy for me to do it as much and any way I wanted, realizing he was giving me back this piece of agency and control over my life…it meant more than any lengthy apology could have.

No, I didn’t forgive him. Yes, I still loathed him. No, I didn’t trust him an inch. But I had to be honest with myself—even if I could leave, I wasn’t going to.

Running my hand over the boxes, I chose an electric blue and got to work.