"I should, shouldn't I?" My brow furrowed as I tried to think it through. All I could think was that, yes, he needed to come with me. It was important. I didn't understand the feeling, but somehow, it mattered to me. "Well, I went through the hassle and pain of meeting his family. He should have to suffer as well." It was the only reason I could think of that I could say aloud.
"Well, okay," said Sahil. "But you're allowed to change your mind any time. You know that, right? You don't owe him your time. You're allowed to put your mental and emotional health, and every other kind, ahead of politeness. Sometimes we have to deal with unpleasant people and situations, but you have a choice here. Please remember that."
"I will."
All the while he was speaking, words had reverberated through my head.He loves me. He said so. He'll always be there for me.
"If you need me, call. Anytime. Always."
I smiled. "Okay."
Something inside me had eased, something that had been tight and strained and desperate for a long, long time. Sahil loved me, forever and ever, and he was never going to leave me. Those thoughts reverberated through me, the knowledge and brightness of it, and the world felt less dark. Sahil loved me, and I loved him.
It was a precious thing, a shining bright orb of love, not a source of pain because he couldn't love me enough. Because he could; hedid. My loving Sahil wasn't about needing to get into his pants. I'd never tried, never would. But I needed him to love me as desperately as I loved him, and he did. He needed me. He loved me. He would do anything to protect me, even tear one of his trusted teams apart, if I needed him to.
He cleared his throat. "Get some sleep now, Charlie. You're going to be fine."
"Yes," I said, and for the first time, I believed it.
Chapter 4
What are your intentions?
I took a long time getting ready the next morning: a leisurely breakfast, a long hot shower, and then I lay around in a towel watching TV till I was ready to get dressed. Despite everything, I felt more relaxed and happy than I had in a while. Talking to my best friend Sahil had settled something in me, and I felt calmer and more alive now. Knowing someone was on my side no matter what meant a lot, and helped a lot, but that wasn't all of it. There was something more. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I felt lighter and happier, and I was looking forward to visiting my parents now, instead of just grimly doing it because I needed to.
Russ didn't disturb me, and when I finally knocked on the door, he called "Come in" moodily, so I did.
He was slumped on the bed in an uncomfortable-looking position, arms crossed over his chest, watching TV grumpily. He looked at me, then sat up. "You're finally ready? And that's what you're wearing? How fancy is your parents' place?" He eyed my suit with misgivings.
"You'll see," I told him.
"That's less than reassuring." He looked unnerved.
"I wasn't trying to be reassuring."
"Well, I didn't bring anything fancy with me. Do I have to buy a suit or something? You usually just wear jeans."
I gave him an enigmatic smile and headed down to pay for the room service and check out.
"Hey, Charlie? Get back here and answer me!"
"Soindignant." I enjoyed it. It was nice to have him off-balance for once, not knowing what was going on. Maybe he'd like the way it felt better than I did.
We only had to make two stops today, and I drove the entire time. We got there before sundown. As I pulled up the drive, I took a couple of quick glances at Russ to see how he was taking it. I tried to hide my grin. He looked totally intimidated.
And, yeah, I didn't mind thatat all. He was used to looking down on me because I didn't understand "wolf things." Maybe he'd like feeling looked down upon for not understanding "rich things." What good was having rich parents if you couldn't use them to scare off prospective mates who were total assholes?
That was why I'd wanted him to come along, I realized. It was kind of petty. I should have been more mature than that. But it was satisfying to watch him get a nervous look on his face.
Yep, I'm a rich asshole, I thought, gripping the wheel tighter. I hadn't ever thought I'd be that guy, but if it chased Russ off, I'd do even that. It was better than some of the things I'd been considering. Beating him to a pulp, for instance. Not that I probably could; he was bigger and tougher than me, as both a man and a wolf.
I tried to keep my expression bland and clueless when he cast me an alarmed look, as if he was asking if this was for real. I ignored him and parked the rental car with a flourish in front of the biggest garage. I'd spend many happy hours there working on engines. Of course Dad didn't like me tinkering with his good cars, but as soon as he'd found out how much I enjoyed mechanical stuff, he'd bought me old junkers to take apart, as many as I wanted. We'd spent happy hours on eBay together, tracking down hard-to-find manuals and parts. I'd enjoyed that a lot. For a couple of years, he'd bought me a new junker every few weeks. Even before I learned to drive, I was fixing cars. It made me happy, and my parents had been desperate for me to be happy.
Thinking back, I realized that getting deep into engine repair and having an excuse to stay home had been a coping mechanism that had helped me avoid my abuser. I'd felt guilty about finding excuses to stay home and away from him because I'd thought he really loved me, and that I was probably being disloyal by not wanting to have sex. But I'd wanted to pull away; I didn't feel comfortable.
The older I got, the less right that "relationship" had felt to me. I'd wanted to be my own person and not his anymore. When it had first started, I'd felt so special that the weird feelings hadn't completely registered. I'd thought that's was how relationships were. After I got a little older and discovered engines, they became an escape for me in so many ways. I could forget other things when I was tinkering. I could avoid people. I had reasons to stay home. Best of all, I could avoid my "mate." Even though I'd thought I was probably a disloyal and bad boyfriend for doing so, I'd sunk gratefully into any excuse to stay home.
Dad bringing me cars and helping me find the things I needed was special, too. I could get attention without having to have sex with that guy. Dad had given me attention because he loved me, not because he wanted something from me. And Mom was really proud of me, too. I think she wouldn't have cared what I got into; my finding a hobby I was actually passionate about was enough. She wanted me to be happy and have a will to live, to care about something, not wish I could disappear all the time.
