Pieces of Autumn (26 page)

Tears were gathering again, and I couldn't stop them. All I could think about was Birdy and his gun and the choice he'd given me, the impossible choice, and how I wasn't strong enough to stop him.

I wasn't stupid. I knew that Birdy would've killed them both, no matter what. He just wanted to put me through a special kind of hell. Deeper and darker than the hell of just watching your own parents die in front of you. He wanted to make sure that I felt responsible.
 

And it worked. No matter how much I knew, I could never quite accept it. Maybe, if I'd been able to make a choice, one of them would still be alive. Maybe I wouldn't be alone.

Tate was just staring at me.

"I think you had the courage to do what I couldn't," I whispered.
 

His grip around my wrist tightened. "What do you mean?"

"Birdy, when he..." I choked past a sob. "He didn't just kill my parents. He gave me a choice. One or the other. I couldn't. I..." Another sob escaped. "So he killed both of them."

Tate shook his head, angrily. "It doesn't matter," he insisted. "You know that, don't you?"

"Of course!" I shouted at him, wincing at the sound of my own voice. Tate didn't flinch. "And if you hadn't killed her, they would have tortured her to death in front of you. Does that make it any easier? Do you sleep any better at night?"

He let my arm go, shoving himself away from me in the same motion. "You're not like me," he snarled.
 

I just sat there, breathing heavily, tears streaming down my cheeks. He slumped back down in his seat, staring up at the ceiling, his face drawn with anguish and fury and regret.
 

I couldn't stand it anymore.

I had to say something.

"You're pathetic."
 

My tone was vicious. He stared at me, his eyes widening slightly.

"It's all bullshit," I shouted. His eyes flashed with anger, but he didn't move. "You're hiding behind a mask. You want absolution, but you can't face what you did. So your way of forgiving yourself is to decide that you can't help it. This is just
who you are
. But it doesn't work, does it? Because you know it's not true. You know you can do better. You're just
afraid
to."

One side of his mouth slowly curled up into a cold smile. "Don't provoke me," he said, softly.
 

"
Someone
needs to provoke you," I insisted, leaning forward. "How long do you think you can go on like this?"

He stood up quickly, took a few strides in my direction, but I didn't flinch, even though my body trembled.

"As long as I have to."

Tate disappeared up the stairs, and into darkness.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Healing

Tate

Fuck, I was jealous.

I paced my room, aching to rip apart every book, every sheet, every piece of furniture, every article of clothing I owned. All of this anger had to go somewhere. It needed an outlet. I couldn't go on like this.

Can't go on like this

Go on like this...

Autumn's words echoed in my head. Her challenge. How long could I go on like this? I didn't know. I'd never concerned myself with the question. My life was a ticking time bomb, regardless. If Stoker didn't get me, someone like Birdy would. If that took too long, there was always booze and pills. I had no interest in living into middle age. What was waiting for me there?

More pain, more nightmares.
 

No. I was done.
 

Most days, I wasn't sure why I still clung to life so stubbornly. Yes, it was a defiance of Stoker, but why did it matter? Holland was dead. Charles would be dead soon. All of the rest of them would live and die, just the same as they would have before, regardless of what I did.
 

Autumn would miss me, but for how long? She might play dumb, but she must have noticed the way Joshua looked at her. It was all very sweet and innocent, on the surface, but I knew better. He might not be as deviant as me, but he certainly didn't want her for her scintillating conversation. Just like any other man on the planet, he wanted to own her body.

My vision went red when I thought about it. His fingers on her skin. If I were gone, there'd be nothing stopping him. Kissing her. Touching her.
Fucking her.

With a snarl, I threw my whiskey against the wall and watched the priceless crystal shatter. The equally priceless liquor trickled down the wood, dripping on the carpet.

Fuck me.

I couldn't die. Not until I'd killed every other man on the planet, to ensure they wouldn't defile my Autumn.

Pressing the palms of my hands against my forehead, I tried to banish the insanity. My brain felt like it was tied in knots.
You've had some crazy fucking impulses in your day, but this girl's pushed you right over the edge.

The Viper was tutting his disapproval, but more than that, he looked scared. I couldn't blame him.

I was scared too.

No matter what I thought of her moral character, Autumn had a certain courage that eluded me. I'd never met someone who'd dare speak to me that way, especially with her leg in a cast. Perhaps "recklessness" was the word. I suspected, when push came to shove, they weren't all that different.

I couldn't afford to be reckless. I was afraid of how I felt around her, the way she pushed me to lose control. I was afraid of my own heartbeat, and what it meant. Slow and steady for so long, just waiting to be snuffed out. Now, it raced when she looked at me.

Remember what happened the last time you fell in love.

As if I could forget.

Joshua didn't come back.

Days bled into weeks bled into months. Autumn was very good on the crutches, and before long, she was doing simple chores again. I liked seeing her active, even if she still winced in pain.

Never once did I ask her where she put those pills. Never once did I ask for the key.

Never once did she have to hold me at gunpoint.

And I didn't visit her room. I didn't try to touch her. After the last time, I wasn't sure I could.

I still barely remembered it. The whole thing was like a nightmare, throbbing painfully in the back of my consciousness. It killed my libido, though my body tried to protest. I woke up ragingly hard every morning, my mind swirling with dreams and visions of Autumn come undone. But the moment I remembered the look of horror on her face, it all dissolved into disgust.

Even if she wanted me, I didn't think I'd be able to do it.
 

On the day her cast was meant to come off, I found her in her room. She was sitting in an armchair, good leg swinging, with a book open on her lap.

"You read Hungarian?" I asked her.

She looked up, smiling. "I think I'm getting the gist of it."

The air between us was thick with everything unasked and unspoken. But if I'd expected her eyes to go empty and cold, her smile to go hollow - now that she knew who I really was, down to the darkest thing I'd ever done - I was wrong.
 

Nothing could sever that thread between us.

Of course it can't. You warped her mind.

"It's time to take your cast off," I said, nodding at her leg. "Step into my office?"

She grinned. Gathering her crutches and hauling herself upright with impressive grace, she followed me down the stairs.

"It's too bad you never got the chance to be a doctor," she said. "You're good at it."

I didn't answer until we'd reached our destination. Accepting complements had never been a particular strength of mine.

"Better than no doctor, at any rate." I was willing to concede that.
 

"Seems to make you happy." She looked down at me thoughtfully from the exam table.
 

I'd never thought about it. I certainly wasn't
unhappy
when I worked like this. It gave me something to focus on, something to quiet the voices. Even the Viper didn't bother me when I was focused on a task.

"I heard something, once," she said. "Don't know how true it is. Especially nowadays. But they say that happiness is fifty percent genetic, and only ten percent circumstantial. The other forty percent is whatever we make for ourselves."

I snorted quietly.
 

"Right," Autumn went on. "I'd like to hear someone make that claim while they're starving in the streets. But the point is...people are happiest when they're doing something they love. In the zone. For some people it's gardening, or painting, or whatever. Maybe for you, it's practicing medicine."

Why are you telling me this?

Why do you care if I'm happy?

How can you even look at me, without feeling disgusted?

"Maybe," I said. "Don't know how that helps me now."

She cleared her throat lightly. "The Syndicate, you know - I bet they could always use more doctors."

Taking a deep breath, I focused on my task. She was right about one thing; now that I was paying attention, I could feel the sense of calm spreading through me. "I was only pre-med. That was a long time ago."

"Better than nothing," she said. "Probably better than this."

I looked up at her. "Do you want to join them?"

She half-shrugged, looking like a deer in the headlights. "I don't think I'd be very useful."

"Why not? You're smart. You'll do anything to survive." I felt a wave of bitterness rise in my chest. "Better than nothing. Better than this."

"They don't need another person to protect," she said, softly. "Another useless mouth to feed."

Was that really how she saw herself?

"Stop it," I said, firmly. "Don't talk about yourself like that."

"Oh," she said. "Are you the only one allowed to insult me?"

I grimaced. "Yes. As a matter of fact, that's exactly the rule."

Don't leave.

I'd cut out my own tongue before I said those words, but it was all I could hear in my head. She wanted to. She wanted to get away from me, to be with him. To try and be a force for good. How could I possibly resent her for that?

Oh, but I did.
 

Swallowing down bile, I ripped off the final pieces of the cast. Her leg was a little atrophied, the skin over her wound ugly and scabbed. But it was healed. The pain was much better than it had been, and with some help, she was able to walk with only a little limp.

Helping her back into the house, with my arm wrapped around her waist, I bit the words back one more time.

Don't leave.

I was slightly mollified by the fact that she seemed to want me there, too. But that wasn't in the cards for me. I was no freedom fighter.

If she went to the Syndicate, she went alone.

There was a certain aching inevitability to it. She would go. She felt she had to, and I couldn't possibly argue. Once her leg was healed, there would be nothing keeping her here. And why should she stay? She deserved better.

She deserved a man like
him
.

My stomach churned at the thought. He might not be what she wanted, but he could probably make her happy. He could make her laugh. His smiles came easily, and he'd never hurt her. Not if he could help it.
 

I'd never be carefree. I'd never be able to love her. Try as I might, I'd never be the man who would stop in a field to pick her wildflowers.
 

When I thought back to that night, the way I'd thrown his bouquet into the fire, I cringed. What an utterly childish display. Completely, unforgivably ridiculous.

I'd do it all again.

No matter how logical I tried to be, I couldn't escape the tidal wave of feelings when it came to her. It knocked me down, sweeping me in the undertow and surfacing me
God knows where
with a mouthful of seawater and not a fucking clue how to get back to dry land.

Until now, I'd never understood why people compared women to the ocean.

"Are you making dinner?"

I turned around, trying to rearrange my face into an impassive mask. I realized I'd been standing over the kitchen sink for an untold amount of time, holding a tomato in one hand and an empty glass in the other.

Autumn was half-smiling, very earnestly. She hadn't spent much time in the kitchen since she broke her leg, and I'd relished the solitude. Everything was easier when I didn't have to look at her.

"Yes," I said. I set the tomato down, and then the glass, trying to figure out why I'd been holding them in the first place. "Just weighing a few options."

"May I help?" Her hands were clasped in front of her. I groaned inwardly. Was she trying to resurrect our game?

I couldn't do this anymore. It was a huge mistake, letting it slip back in when I'd first put her cast on. She didn't belong to me. She never would. I hated it when she pretended.

Except - I didn't.

"You may," I said, hearing my voice rumble with promise that had lain dormant for too long. A warm anticipation spread through my veins. "Get the basil out of the fridge. Just a handful."

Her chest rose and fell, hypnotically. "Yes, Sir."