Tabula Rasa(61)

I took a quick shower and got ready, pausing only briefly in front of the bathroom mirror to inspect the burn marks left by the wax. I’d played with candles and wax before. Most of the time, it wasn’t nearly so scary because we usually used soy wax since it melted at a much lower temperature than paraffin. So it stung a little, but didn’t usually leave marks behind.

In truth, I kind of liked these marks. And if I took care of it, they wouldn’t linger very long. I applied burn cream from Shannon’s first aid kit and finished getting ready.

When I descended the stairs, he was waiting for me on the living room sofa, stroking the white cat, who had rolled onto her back so he could rub her belly. She hissed at me.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

The cat jumped off the sofa and flounced off to another part of the house in full-on diva mode.

Shannon input the code, and I followed him outside to his nondescript black hitman car and got into the passenger side. I managed to wait until we were out of the neighborhood before I asked the question that had plagued me for days now.

“Why did you leave so fast that morning? Was it because of what I told you? About my professor?”

Shannon didn’t reply, but he gripped the steering wheel harder, and the muscles in his jaw and running down his neck tightened noticeably.

“Let’s just have a nice dinner, and we’ll talk about it when we get home.”

I was sure I couldn’t have a nice dinner until after we’d talked about it, but I didn’t want to ruin things.

“Are you going to let me leave the house more?” I asked.

“Of course. You’re not a prisoner.” But the way he said it wasn’t very convincing.

Sure, I wasn’t a prisoner. He’d just made clear on more than one occasion he was never letting me go and stated in pretty absolute terms that he felt I belonged to him. Why would I think I was a prisoner?

“Are you still mad at me about the candles and wine?”

“No. I wasn’t mad to begin with. But you knew I wouldn’t like it.”

I was quiet for another ten minutes until he pulled up beside the restaurant and turned off the ignition. The restaurant was in what had once been a somewhat old-fashioned cottage in the historic district.

“Oh my God, Shannon. Please, please for the love of God, talk to me about it now! I can’t have a nice dinner if I don’t know what the f*ck is going on. You just ran out right after f*cking me, and you didn’t even say goodbye. You were just gone. Whoosh. Then you were mad when I called. And then I thought you just didn’t want me at all because the balcony was unlocked and there was money and it was just all too easy. Does what happened to me change how you feel?”

At this point, I was sure I just honestly didn’t care if he dragged me out and strangled me in the parking lot. There was no way I could sit in a restaurant and politely eat pasta in romantic lighting without knowing what the f*ck was going on.

Shannon, for his part, looked perplexed. He turned in his seat to face me. “Why would it change how I feel? How I feel about what? About you?”

I nodded. And all of a sudden I felt like a complete moron. Whatever he felt had to be infinitely smaller than what normal humans felt in romantic relationships, and here I was cornering him... asking him to define everything. To explain himself. I was being the where is our relationship going girl to the last guy on the planet who wanted to hear it.

“Why would it change how I feel about you?” he asked quietly. He seemed to really be struggling trying to figure out the complex algebra I’d laid out.

“You don’t think I’m dirty or tainted somehow? Like... like damaged goods?”

“No.”

As much as I was grateful for the silence with him, for the lack of intrusion and overwhelming emotion and smothering, I needed more than one word. Damn.

Shannon’s expression darkened. “I left because I was losing control of my emotions. I never lose control of my emotions. It disturbed me that I didn’t feel I had control of myself, and it’s always been the one thing I’ve felt sure of, that I was in control. Knowing what he did... I thought sex in the shower that morning would take the edge off, and it didn’t. Then I thought the job would. The job helped some, but not nearly enough. I’m going to kill that motherf*cker.”

It was like a chorus of angels singing. I’m going to kill that motherf*cker.

I couldn’t help the smile creeping up my face. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t mask the utter joy at the idea that not only was Professor Stevens going to pay for what he’d done, but Shannon was going to do it. It almost made up for the tragedy of crying for Trevor. Almost. I would have given almost anything to go back in time knowing the truth, and to coldly watch Trevor die without mourning him.

“I want to go with you,” I said.

Shannon hesitated. “I really work better alone.”

“I have a right to be there. This is my vengeance. Not yours.”

For a moment it felt as though the two of us were two pieces that came together to form one whole, that nothing made sense without both of us together as one unit.

“Let’s eat dinner. Let me think,” Shannon said.

I didn’t push further because I knew that ultimately he would decide if I got to go or not. Even if I ran away from him and tried to do it all on my own, I wouldn’t know where to begin, and I would very likely get caught. And I wasn’t going to do time for my bastard professor.