by C. E. Wilson
Mauve’s face in the courtroom.
Mauve’s face when her lawyer handed me the papers.
A restraining order. I try to get some asshole to leave my girlfriend alone, and I end up killing him, and on top of that, she’s making sure I can’t get anywhere near her.
“You have anger problems, Mr. Davenport,” her lawyer had sputtered at me. “Ms. Evans only wants to make sure that she’s protected upon your release. You can understand that, can’t you?”
Yeah. I understood it. I understood what I was. So why didn’t Verity? And speaking of her, why was she so quiet all of a sudden? I thought she was going to be yelling in my ear all night about how I wasn’t a bad person or whatever she wanted to believe. I lifted up my head, sniffing again like a baby. Her back was turned.
“Hey,” I called over from my chair. “What’s wrong with you?”
No answer. My brow furrowed.
“Verity. I asked you something. What’s wrong with you?”
The silence was deafening. What was she so angry about? I told her my story, and hell, I even gave her a chance to leave. So why was she sitting there, staring out the window and ignoring me? I stood up from my chair and wiped my damp hands on my jeans. Crying. I couldn’t stand when girls did it, but I was even more disgusted when I myself cried. I used to cry early on in my relationship with Mauve, but she put an end to that right away. I turned off that part of myself when I was with her. She didn’t want those kinds of emotions.
“Verity?” I tried again, stopping behind the table. I pushed the chair aside, and she jumped as it slid across the floor, making a piercing sound. “Sorry,” I said sheepishly.
She didn’t turn back to face me again. She didn’t even move.
I was completely puzzled. I took a few steps to the right to get a look at her face, but she slid away silently, hiding her expression from me. What the hell? “Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you shutting down all of a sudden? I thought we were talking.”
Silence. Again.
I palmed my face and didn’t try to move again. I was completely at a loss for words and ideas. I didn’t get it. My hand started to go for her shoulder when I heard a tiny, almost incoherent sound escape from her. She shuddered, and her arm moved toward her face, but she didn’t say anything. I watched her with fascination. I didn’t know what else to do! The situation was so strange. I couldn’t be that dense, could I? She must have been upset about something I said… but what? I heard that sound again.
No. Oh God, no.
“Are you…” I knelt down behind her. “You’re not crying, are you?”
“No,” she said shortly. “No, I’m not.” At least she was speaking to me again.
I relaxed a bit but then realized I wasn’t out of the woods.
“Why would a little creature like me cry if I’m just a soul in a body?” Her words were like acid, each one more corrosive than the next, and she shuddered again before burying her face back into her knees.
“Huh?” I must have sounded so clueless.
“What you said,” she muttered into her knees.
“What did I say?”
She whipped her head around, piercing me with those electric sapphires. I actually had to look down. She looked angry but sad—hurt…so fucking hurt. “You called me a creature.”
I winced as I remembered it. Dammit, I’d only said that in anger. I hadn’t meant it like that.
“A little creature,” she continued. “A soul in a body. That’s it.” Her eyes narrowed as she tried to hold back tears. “Is that all I am? Is that how you really see me, Malcolm?”
“No!” I blurted. “Of course not! I said it in anger.”
“You called me out in anger?”
“I wasn’t calling you out, Verity. I said something stupid. I always do, but I didn’t mean it like that.”
“So how did you mean it? Am I a creature or a soul in a body?”
“Neither, of course. Verity, please—”
“Because if you think for one second I don’t question my existence every damn moment of every damn day, then you’re mistaken!” She rose to her feet, and I felt my heart break. I felt as though I was losing her—when I needed her most. “You think I like being like this? You think I want to be, as you say, a little creature?”
“Verity, please stop saying that. I didn’t mean it.”
“But you said it,” she said, hiccupping as she tried to contain a sob.
I wanted to reach for her. Oh God, did I want to reach for her. I was sure after my little rant that the last thing she wanted was to have me hold her. She’d probably think I was treating her like a kid. Actually, a “kid” was the last thing I saw her as. She was a woman. A small woman, but a woman—and a goddamn fine-looking one at that. Just…small.
Her eyes brimmed with tears.
Losing her.
I was losing her.
Maybe I already had.
I rested one of my hands on the table, and she reacted as if it was wildfire, fleeing up into the air…high enough that I couldn’t even reach her. I remained on my knees. I deserved to be below her.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I couldn’t think of what else to say. Hell, what else was there to say? I’d said something stupid, as I always do, and now I would have to pay for it.
“Open the door,” she said in a calm but shaky voice.
No. No. No. “Not until you accept my apology.”
“I accept it.” Her voice was like ice. “You said I could come and go as I please, Malcolm. You asked me if I wanted to leave. You said you would let me go if I did, so long as I told you I was leaving.”
“Yeah, but not when you’re like this.” I finally looked up at her, now perched on a high shelf. “Will you come down here and talk to me?”
“Why? Why talk to a little creature—”
“I didn’t mean it!” I shouted. I was frustrated, yes, but desperation to keep her also brewed inside of me. I didn’t want to let her go. I didn’t want to lose her. As soon as she flew out the door, I wouldn’t be as lucky as I had been last time. I probably wouldn’t ever see her again. She would become nothing more than a dream, a hallucination, another Mauve for me to obsess over in my loneliness. And I couldn’t be lonely again.
I couldn’t be without her again.
“You can’t go.” My voice weakened. “Seriously, I can’t let you go.”
“You said you would.”
“I lied. I won’t let you go.”
“Why?”
My head shot up to look at her. I searched her face for some sort of recognition, some sort of warmth, but her face was devoid of any emotion except for the glassiness in her electric-blue eyes. They looked as cold as Mauve’s had been in the courtroom when I was sentenced.
“Why?” Verity asked again, still not leaving her perch. “Why won’t you let me go?”
“Because…” I pulled my hands into tight fists. My knuckles were turning white.
“Why?”
“Because I fucking like you, okay?” I snapped. “I fucking like you. I like having you around, and I just like you. All right? I like you. I think you’re beautiful, and I’m sorry about what I said because I didn’t mean it. I’m confused, yes, but who wouldn’t be? You’re a foot tall! You have wings! Am I supposed to not have questions?” I shook my head angrily. “I know that doesn’t excuse what I said, so all I can offer is my apology. I’m sorry about saying that. I keep promising that I won’t hurt you, but it seems all I can do is the complete opposite. I’m an asshole, and I guess I do have some anger issues. I have trust problems, and I get jealous easy. And on top of all that…” I looked up to make sure she was looking at me. She was. “And on top of that, I think I’m falling for you. Whatever you are.”
“You’re just lonely. And sad,” Verity muttered.
“Maybe that’s part of it,” I said honestly, “but I don’t even care. I know I can’t stand seeing you get hurt. It makes me want to beat the shit out of everyone.” I laugh
ed bitterly at the truth of that statement. I had once said the same thing to Mauve. She thought it was sexy as hell. Verity honestly looked more afraid. “And I know I’ll fall apart if I lose you. I can’t lose you. I won’t. You have to accept me as I am because that’s all I can be. I can’t be Prince Charming. I can’t be Christian Slate or whatever color his last name is. All I can be is me.”
My shoulders heaved up and down wildly for a few moments. I hadn’t said that much to anyone in almost three years—maybe longer. Mauve and I hadn’t had many heart-to-hearts. We just…we just were. Verity was haunting me in the same way Mauve had. She was working her way in, and she didn’t even realize she was doing it. I slumped down.
“So say something,” I grunted. “Do you want to leave? Or do you want to stay with an asshole who murdered someone?”
She started to flutter toward me, so I cautiously lifted my head. She kept her distance but landed on the table so I could at least look her in the eye. She was still holding back tears, but so was I. My punishment was so cruel—forcing a man to be alone with his thoughts for so long.
“I told you,” Verity’s voice came at last. “I don’t think you murdered him. It was an accident.”
“I told you—”
“Let me finish,” she said in that firm voice again.
I fell silent as she reached up for her chest as though it was the only thing holding her together. If she would only let me hold her. If she could only start seeing herself as an equal and not some doll or child. If only I would stop being a dumbass, blurting things out without thinking.
“I think it was an accident, and yes, I think you did play some part in his death, but it doesn’t make you a bad person. You tried to reach for him. You obviously hadn’t meant to hurt him really, let alone kill him.” Her light lashes finally shuttered upward, and she looked at me. “But your words, Malcolm…saying things like that really makes me feel like you’re killing me. Maybe not physically, but something worse.”
My lower lip trembled.
I was running out of things to say. And as it turned out, the more I had spoken, the deeper I had dug myself into a hole. We hit a silent standstill, and though I was pretty sure I was done showing my emotions…knowing she thought what I had done to Emmett with my hands was similar to what I had done to her with my words? It wouldn’t stand.
“C’mere,” I said gruffly.
She looked at me, confused. “What?”
“Come closer to me,” I said, beckoning her over with one hand. “Come over here.”
“Why?”
“I want to hold you,” I said in a low voice. “That’s all. Not like a child. Not like a toy or a fairy. Like a friend, Verity. Will you let me?”
Her face changed slightly. “You want to hold me?”
I nodded.
So badly…so fucking badly did I want to, but I wouldn’t grab her. I wouldn’t force myself on her. I remembered holding her in my arms that one time she’d had a nightmare, and that other time when she was damaged by Flynn. Holding her might have been the only way to make her feel better. “Please.” I extended my fingers toward her as she came close. She stopped at the edge of my fingertips and looked at them.
“Malcolm, I don’t know if I can…”
“C’mon, let me hold you, please. Human to human.” I extended my fingers towards her, but she backed out of my reach.
“I…I can’t. I just can’t.” She turned away and sat heavily on the table gripping her knees.
I withdrew my hand and said nothing else.
There was nothing left to be said.
Chapter Twelve
Delivery day. For the first time, I actually wasn’t looking forward to it. I didn’t bother going outside. I needed to be close to Verity in case someone was acting weird or something was going on. Sitting on the floor, I drummed my fingers impatiently and stole looks at my clock radio, resting on the table above me. I couldn’t sit still. I tried lying in bed, sitting in Verity’s chair, sitting at the table, standing in the kitchen, staring out the window. Nothing was working. I was so antsy I couldn’t stand it! Though I was happy that Verity was acting normally again, I was worried for her. I couldn’t overwhelm her though.
She stared up at me as she landed on the floor by my side. She followed me almost everywhere I went that morning…except the bed. She still considered that off limits, and even when I offered her the chance to sleep there, she made some big huff about it being my “personal space” and that I should have some place of my own. I didn’t want a place of my own, though. The more I let her in, the more I wanted her.
Despite her small size, I couldn’t see her as anything but a woman. I longed for human contact, the touch of a woman. Night was the hardest because Verity was usually asleep before me, and I could spend endless hours staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep or morning to come. She wasn’t talking to me when she was sleeping, so I obviously couldn’t be warmed by her voice. Would it have been too much to ask her to sleep next to me so I could be warmed by her body instead? Several times, I thought about taking advantage of her and scooping her up when she was sleeping so I could hold her, but my fear was that she’d take it the wrong way. Everything I did to try to be closer to her, she interpreted as me treating her like a doll or toy. She couldn’t understand that I’d want the same thing if she was six feet tall. I wanted to hold her…to hold something.
That wasn’t going to happen. It was supply day. Normally, I’d be excited about it even though I tried to let it seem as though it wasn’t a big deal, but that day was different. I was apprehensive. I was on edge. I was nervous for myself. I was nervous for Verity. I could only hope that Felix or Janet would be the ones who came up. I continued to drum my fingers impatiently on the floor, but I could feel Verity’s little eyes watching me.
“You look like you want to say something, so you might as well say it.” I took her in out of the corner of my eye. Her hair was down that day, framing her delicate features, and she’d remembered to wear her shoes. She’d been better about not going around barefoot since I told her it bothered me, but she hadn’t given me much more to go on. Since my embarrassing confession, she had kind of pretended it hadn’t happened, as though things should keep going as usual.
I wondered if she’d even understood how I meant it when I said I liked her. And how much it had hurt when she wouldn’t trust me to hold her. Did it even register? Or did she see me as something completely unworthy of that kind of thought because of what had happened to her—or hell, because of how I must look in her eyes?
Like a giant.
A giant monster.
A giant monster who’d killed someone.
I lifted up one hand and tried to block her face with it. “Can you not look at me so much? You’re making me nervous.”
“Well, that’s good because you’re making me nervous too, pacing around and drumming on everything. I can feel it, you know. It sends vibrations through my body and makes me antsy.”
I stopped drumming immediately. I hadn’t even thought of that. It was starting to seem more and more as though Verity couldn’t think that way about me. I was desperate to know if there was any way to get her to see me as a man and not some unstable giant who was protecting her. I sighed loudly. “I’m worried, okay? Supply day only comes once a month, but it has a pretty big impact.”
“Why would you be worried about your wardens? I thought you said they come to bring you supplies.”
“They do,” I said, sitting up into a crouching position. I couldn’t stop moving.
“So isn’t that a good thing? What’s there to be nervous about?”
“The wardens…” I said. “They’re not always kind, Verity. I don’t know what you remember about prisons before you were changed, but they’re not exactly friendly with us. I mean, most of them are okay, but not all. I think some of them would rather us rot in jail.”
“Not…kind?” she asked, realization dawning slowly upon her face. “You mean…
”
“They know how to assert themselves if we step out of line,” I said. “Let’s think of it that way. You’ll need to hide no matter what.”
“I figured I could hide on the top shelf of that cabinet,” she said, pointing a finger into the kitchen. “I’ll hide in the corner behind some cups. No one will think to look for something important there.”
I hoped she was right. I rubbed my hand over my jaw, still stealing glimpses of Verity when I could. This day was an important one, but a lot of other things were on my mind. I wanted to talk about what I’d said—what I’d blurted out. Also, what she thought about that and what she thought about me. I faltered. This wasn’t the time. “I’m going to ask them for some fabric and thread and sewing needles,” I said to her. “That way, I can try to make you some other things to wear.” I glanced down at her feet. “Socks, especially. A thicker blanket for your bed. A few dresses…” I shrugged. “And as a treat…I’m going to ask for potato chips. I won’t even ask what kind; I’ll take whatever they offer. You remember potato chips, don’t you?”
She nodded her head. “I can remember the taste. They’re always salty.”
I laughed. At least she remembered that. “I don’t think either of them would have a problem picking me up a bag of chips. It won’t arrive until next month, though. Do you think you can wait that long?” The question I really wanted to ask her was, was she even going to stay here for that long? I couldn’t bring myself to find out.
“I don’t mind waiting,” she said simply. “So what about this month?”
“What about it?”
“What did you request?”
“Nothing too exciting. More paper. Some rice. Bison or elk steak if they could spare it—white fish is always cheaper and easier to give us, so I’m not holding my breath for that—and some new paints. Reds, blues, and browns, I think.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “So I guess that means you’re going to be painting more of her, then?”
Her. The less I heard her name spoken, the less I could personify her in my memories. She was fading from me. Slowly, it was happening. And I had accidently admitted that the paint colors were probably going to be used for her.
