Easton appears to be just as stunned by their affection.
Is it possible I even spy guilt on his face? The same guilt plaguing me?
Perhaps in the future I need to stop and consider why Whitney asks for things, instead of merely what she is asking for. Perhaps this will be insight into how she thinks—and isn’t that what I want? To understand her so I can love her better?
And oh, I love her.
So much I don’t know how I’m breathing with all of this cement packed into my chest. Love is an ache. A reward. It’s terror and joy. When I turned around on the stage and she was no longer there, I was certain that I wouldn’t go on living unless I found her safe. What would be the point after knowing such happiness and having it gone, leaving a hole behind that cannot be filled by anything or anyone else?
She is my heart now. She lives inside of it, keeping it beating.
After Scout returns to Easton and we leave, Whitney is silent the whole ride home.
I feel like an open wound. Unworthy of sharing oxygen with her. All this time, she pined for her sister and I thought only of my need to keep her. Bend her to my will.
When we arrive home, she makes no move to leave the SUV.
Instead she reaches into her purse and takes out her phone. She punches in the code and pulls up her texts, handing me the device. Wordlessly, she climbs out of the car, a member of the staff letting her into the house. And all I can do is scroll through her conversation with Banner with a growing sense of shame.
Banner: I still want you, Whitney.
Whitney: Don’t contact me again.
Banner: Your father is here with me. He is very upset with your actions.
Whitney: I haven’t been thrilled with his actions for the last eighteen years.
Banner: You have such a feisty spirit. Are you with the Russian madman now?
Whitney: Yes. And if he finds out you’re texting me, a concussion will only be the beginning.
Banner: He can’t give you Scout. I can.
Me: Delete my number. Next time, I tell Maxim.
The proof that she was loyal to me is only the beginning. The texts from Banner go back for years and the nature of them make my hands shake with unfiltered rage. She rarely ever responded to him, occasionally telling him to leave her alone, but he persisted. Said crude things to her. Cursed her when she refused to respond. Harassed her.
Whitney didn’t have to let me see this. Didn’t have to offer me this proof of her trustworthiness. She only did so because I so stupidly questioned it.
I won’t do it again.
I’ll never question her.
Did she question me when I brought her here with the understanding she would never leave? No. She showed me only love. Understanding. And what I did, essentially, might have been kidnapping now that I truly think about it. Even when I demanded she quit acting, she might have been upset, but she allowed me the chance to compromise. Which I have not done.
I am terrible boyfriend.
I need to work on this immediately.
And hope I’m not too late to repair the damage I’ve done.
8
Whitney
I wake to the sound of hammering.
It’s still dark outside.
I’m not sure what time I fell asleep, but I’m groggy from crying and still wearing my black slip dress from the club. My arms are stiff from being hauled around by Banner and my father and I wince, massaging away the aches. Where is Maxim?
Last time I saw him was in the SUV when I handed him my phone.
I’m not sure why I wanted him to see the texts between me and Banner. At first I thought I was trying to ease his concerns about Banner. Or stop him from thinking I considered trusting Banner for even a second. Didn’t I owe Maxim that after he arranged for me to see Scout? But mostly, I think I just wanted to confide in someone about all the awful things Banner has said to me over the years. I wanted to let him know…I’m kind of scared of the other fighter. I spend a lot of time trying to be tough for my sister, but the truth is, I’ve been really unnerved since I was sixteen and Banner started showing interest. I’m tired of pretending I’m not.
And I don’t feel like I have to pretend with Maxim.
What happened tonight in the club, the way we embraced our physical relationship in front of the man I hate…in a way, it gave me back control of my budding sexuality. For so long, it felt as if Banner dictated how I dressed, how I felt about my body. Because I knew he’d be watching, stalking. Now I’ll be surprised if I spare him a single thought for the rest of my life. His unnerving hold on me is gone. I took ownership of my body. I allowed Maxim to share it.