The Paper Swan(59)

“But you don’t live here?”

“No. I go where my work takes me.”

“So . . .” I fiddled with the hem of my top. “We are okay here?”

Damian stilled at my words. “There is no ‘we’, Skye. We grew up. We became different people. We live in different worlds. As soon as it’s safe, I’m dropping you off at the mainland.”

“You’re just going to drop me off?” I stared at him incredulously. “What about MaMaLu? You said you were going to take me there. I need to see her, Damian. I need to see her grave. I never got to say goodbye.”

“Neither did I,” he spit out. “I was taking you there so you could see, so you could understand why I did what I did. But you already know the truth.”

“So that’s it? You unload me somewhere they can find me, like some unwanted cargo? And what am I supposed to do? Forget everything that happened? Forget that you abducted me, turned my life upside down, and then turned me loose? Just like that? Well, you know what? I did forget. I forgot about you until you came back into my life. You’re a selfish f*cking bastard, Damian. Pick me up when it suits you, drop me off when it suits you. I’m not some mindless, emotionless pawn you can move from here to there in this game you’re playing with my father. I’m real and I’m here and I care about you.”

And there it was, a flash of raw emotion on Damian’s face, a hitching of his breath like he’d been punched in the gut. And just as quickly, it was gone.

“Don’t care about me,” he said. “I am a selfish f*cking bastard. I’ve killed people, planned, plotted, and orchestrated the whole thing, and never felt an ounce of remorse. And I planned, plotted and orchestrated to kill you. So don’t care about me, because I’m only going to disappoint you.”

“Bullshit! You’re just afraid to let me in, you’re afraid to let anyone in.”

We glared at each other, neither willing to back off.

Then Damian turned and disappeared into the trees.

Fine.

I stormed off to the beach.

I shimmied out of my skirt, tossed my top onto the sand and walked into the water. It was warm, and so clear that the sun’s rays danced on my feet. I lay on my back and gave myself up to the ocean.

Take it. Take it all away, I thought. I don’t know what to do with any of it.

I floated like a piece of driftwood, bobbing up and down on the waves. My finger still stung, but it was bearable. I opened my eyes as a seagull passed overhead, blocking the sun momentarily. I turned to the shore, following its path, and noticed Damian watching me from the verandah. I was wearing my underwear, but it was stuck to my body like second skin. He’d already seen me naked, but this was different. He hadn’t looked at me then, the way he was looking at me now, with the kind of longing that made me feel like I was the Holy Grail to his quest, like I was the oasis and he was two burning feet in the desert sand. He looked away and went back to whittling whatever he was working on.

I came out of the water and picked up my clothes. Damian kept his gaze averted. When I stepped out of the shower, my black-and-blond hair freshly shampooed, he was waiting for me in the bedroom.

“Let me see your finger.” He slipped off the wet, dirty bandage and inspected it. It was healing, although parts of it were still tender. “This will work better.” He’d made me a wooden splint, padded on all sides, but not so bulky as to get in the way.

I sat on the bed and let him slip it on.

“How does that feel?” he asked, securing it with Band-Aids.

“Good.” Really, really good. Look at me like that again. With softness in your eyes. “What about you?” I traced the stitches on his temple. One, two, three, four. Four crisscross latches.

“I’m fine,” he said, but he let my fingers rest on his skin.

He was kneeling on the floor. His other hand hadn’t moved from mine, even though the splint was now secured. Our eyes were level; there was nowhere to hide.

Whenever MaMaLu had sung about the Sierra Morena Mountains, I’d thought of Damian’s eyes. I didn’t know what those mountains looked like, but I always imagined they were just as dark, with ebony forests and caves of coal. Of course, I had no idea back then that the bandits lying in wait would be my own—my feelings, leaping from friendship to this falling, fluttering ambush that came at me from all sides.

Damian had thieving, stealing contraband eyes, and when they fell on my mouth, they robbed me of all breath and thought. I wondered if he was feeling the same undeniable pull, if his heart was racing as fast as mine, if past and present were making out like wild teenagers in the back seat of his mind.