“Hi.” She looked down at her hands.
“Are you mad at me?” Mal didn’t move from where he was.
Lilith thought about it. “No,” she said with a sigh. She didn’t have any energy left to be mad. “I don’t understand why you called him, though.”
“Because he’s your father.” He took a tentative step forward. “That’s what you do when something like this happens. You call your family.”
“I have you and Dana.”
He shook his head. “We’re not enough.” He took another few steps. “Your dad loves you.”
Lilith wasn’t in the mood for this lecture again. “I realize that.”
He sat by her bed, just keeping her company. After a minute, Lilith looked up, though she didn’t look at him. “He wants me to come home.” She was going for nonchalant—what a silly idea—but there was still no luster to her voice. “I mean he really wants me to come home. To stay. He wants me to live with him, Delilah, and Aiden. Apparently she wants to help me with all my problems.” She huffed.
But rather than dismiss this as ludicrous as she’d expected, Mal was nodding. “That’s good. That’s great news.”
Lilith’s head snapped up. “How is that good?” There was at least some volume to her voice now. “What do you think’s changed?”
He blinked at her.
She shook her head. “I can’t go home. As it is, I don’t know what I’m going to do. It’s going to be a few weeks before I can go back to work, and—”
“You are not seriously thinking of going back to work.” Mal was incredulous, his eyes wide as he stared at her.
“Nothing’s changed.” This was obvious to her. Why couldn’t he see this? Her eyes followed him as he stood again and went to the end table where Dana had left her makeup bag; she’d been trying to help Lilith brush out her hair earlier. “Rent needs to get paid. Dana—”
Her words cut off with a wheeze when Mal held a mirror in front of her face.
The woman in the mirror was an absolute mess, her features made grotesque. One eye was swollen shut, her cheeks and chin were covered with bruises and scrapes, and her face was swollen in places.
This was the face of a victim.
Lilith knocked his hand away, trying to get a handle on her breathing.
“This is a wakeup call.” Mal’s voice was quiet, gentle, his words slow as though he was explaining something to a child so they might understand.”Something has to change, Lilith. We can’t go back to the way it was before.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “This didn’t happen at the club. That had nothing to do with it. And Dana—”
“Forget about Dana. Jesus Christ, Lilith. You’re sitting here covered in cuts and bruises. You have a fucking shunt in your chest. Stop. Thinking. About. Dana. Or me. Or anyone but yourself!”
Lilith stared down at the blankets again. She wanted more than anything to lash out, but her anger, her usual temper, was nowhere to be found. Even that had abandoned her.
“Look. Something fucked up happened to us, okay? You need to accept that so you can get past it, so you can live your life. You have to stop running. You have to deal with this.”
“Awesome. Another fucking amateur therapist,” she muttered, her inflection acerbic. “Fuck you, Mal.” The words were rote, lacking any sort of real fire. “I don’t have to do anything.”
“There has to be an end.” His tone was soft, sad. “There has to be a point where you start living your own life. This can’t be just one more thing you sweep under the carpet. And maybe it’s time Dana and I make sure we’re not your excuse anymore.”
She had nothing to say to that. There was a trepidation churning inside her. What could she say? She Dana and Mal both to be able to stand on their own, but the reality of it made her anxious.
Would she have a purpose if Dana didn’t need her, if Mal didn’t need her to take care of his sister?
“Don’t you want more, Lilith?” Mal was pleading with her now.
“I don’t want anything.”
~0~
At first, Lilith was sure she was dreaming again. She thought she heard Trey’s voice.
He’d appeared in her dreams before. Sometimes he was just there. He took her in his arms, and she felt warm for seconds before he was lost to wakefulness. Other times his presence marked the beginning of a nightmare, and he turned away from her, disgust evident on his handsome face.
“Is this Lilith Damon’s room?” she heard him ask.
“Damon? Who the hell are you?”
Mal and Trey did not belong in the same space.
Lilith’s eyes snapped open.
Sure enough, Mal was standing in a defensive stance blocking the doorway, but she caught a glimpse Trey over his shoulder.
“I’m . . . my name is Oswald. Trey.”
“You’re Trey?”
“I’m a friend. Please, I just heard. May I see her? Please?”
“I’ve heard of you but not as a friend.” Mal paused. “Are you a client?”
Lilith closed her eyes again, dread making pools of ice in her stomach.
“I’m a friend,” Trey said again.
“And you think she wants to see you?”
Trey had no answer for that. Of course he wouldn’t, not after the last argument they’d had. It felt like it had been a year ago instead of just a few days.
“Will you at least tell me if she’s okay?”
“Are you counting the days until she comes back to work?” Sarcasm laced every word Mal spat at the other man.
Trey didn’t rise to the bait. “Please.”
“You think people get hospitalized when they’re okay?”
“Mal,” Lilith called, unable to listen him antagonize Trey anymore. “Just let him in.”
Why not, she thought. Wasn’t this what she wanted? This was her. No more masks, no more stories. Let him deal with it. She was almost curious to see how quickly he would run away.
Mal looked like he wanted to argue. He didn’t look pleased at all, but he gave a short nod and stepped to the side.
Trey looked like hell. Worry was etched in every line of his face, and when he got a good look at her, she watched as all color drained from his cheeks. “Sweet Christ,” he muttered, crossing the room in three long strides. “Lilith . . .” He reached out, as if to touch her face, but Lilith flinched, looking down.
“My name is Callicotte,” she said by means of greeting.
“What?”
“My name. It’s Lilith Elaine Callicotte.”
“Okay.” The word was uncertain, but he didn’t argue as he sat down at her bedside.
“Lilith?” Mal, still standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow.
“Can you maybe give us a minute, Mal?” She had no idea what was about to happen, but she was sure she didn’t want Mal there for any of it.
He looked like he wanted to argue, but again, he nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be close, okay?”
When he was gone, Trey reached for her hand, his movement slow, his eyes on her, waiting for a sign she wasn’t comfortable with his touch. She didn’t reach for him, but she didn’t shy away either. She watched their fingers mesh and mingle.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I didn’t know. I thought you were just ignoring me again.” As he spoke, his thumb brushed over her fingers. It felt nice, she reflected. “Then I heard around campus that Francis had been stabbed by a girl he attacked.” He raised his free hand, touching the pads of his fingers to her swollen cheek. “I’m glad you got him, Lilith. I’m sorry that this happened to you, but I’m glad you got him.”
Lilith didn’t say anything to that. She watched their fingers, his words mingling with memories of the last conversation they’d had. He wondered if he still wanted the truth. “My mom died when I was young. I was raised by a single father.”
Confusion flashed across his face, but it was fleeting. He brought his free hand over their joined fingers. “I’m sorry abou
t your mother.”
“When I was in seventh grade, my history teacher m—” She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath before she could continue. “He molested me and my two friends.”
She heard his breath stutter, but when he spoke, his tone was steady. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
Almost a minute of silence went by, but he didn’t say anything else. No questions for once, she noted. “Are you disappointed? That’s pretty textbook, isn’t it?” She huffed. “I bet whatever you had in your head was more exciting than that.”
More silence. Finally, Lilith had to look up.
If the ache in her chest, the ever-present one that occurred every time she tried to breathe with broken ribs, had a face, this would be it. He looked so pained. He breathed in and out, as if he was struggling to keep his voice even and quiet. “Do you think seeing you like this is entertainment for me?”
Lilith didn’t answer. She didn’t know what she wanted to hear. Maybe she wanted to rekindle the anger she’d felt toward him just days ago.
Maybe she wanted someone to tell her this was what she deserved—she was sure they were all thinking it.
He shifted, coming forward so he was leaning on the bar of her bed. “I . . . I care about you, Lilith. If you want to know the truth, I’m so pissed I can hardly sit still right now. I know Francis is still in this hospital. If there wasn’t a police officer right outside his door, I couldn’t promise you I wouldn’t pull the plug on him with a smile. I hate that this happened to you. I hate it.”
He cupped her hand in both of his, bringing her knuckles to his lips and pressing a long kiss there.
“I don’t know how many other ways I can say this. No games, no tricks, no ulterior motives. I was being honest with you before when I told you I wanted to be your friend. And yes, maybe I was trying to dissect your behavior. It’s part of who I am. But you seem to be under a misapprehension about what I saw.
“This isn’t about what you do. How could it be? Lilith, I paid you for sex. Do you think I would have done that if I thought you were going about it in an unhealthy way?
“We’ve had this discussion already.” The expression on his face was wistful. Lilith wondered if he felt like she did, if remembering their conversations made him smile. There was a practiced air to his voice, as though he’d rehearsed this speech before. “People love to judge what other people, especially women, do with their bodies. That’s not me. You know that’s not me. It’s possible to be careless with your body, of course, but you make careful choices about who you’re with, and you use protection.”
“And I just got my ass kicked from here to next Tuesday,” she finished in a bitter tone.
“Hey.” He tapped the underside of her chin until she looked up. She refused at first, not wanting to see his pity or worse, his condemnation. When she complied, though, what she saw eased a fraction of her irrational guilt and self-loathing.
The look on his face was stern but soft. His expression was not that of someone looking on a pathetic creature. It was anything but. “Wanting to blame yourself is natural, but that doesn’t make it true. Nothing—nothing—you did invited this.” He held her gaze as he spoke, not letting Lilith look away. “Saying your profession enabled Francis to hurt you is a form of victim blaming, and I won’t have that. Not even from you.”
Lilith closed her eyes against the tears that threatened. He believed what he was saying; that much was clear. The words hurt because they were kind, and kindness was a painful concept when she didn’t feel like she deserved it.
He sat back. “Anyway. As I was saying, you could also use sex as a means of getting people to love you, but again, you don’t do that.” His tone now was assessing, as if he’d gone into a scientific state of mind, just pointing out facts. He was a serious student, after all, and Lilith found his clinical detachment helped remind her the world wasn’t falling to pieces.
Everyone was emotional around her these last couple of days—Mal, Dana, her father. Lilith knew Trey felt strongly about what had happened to her—he’d said as much—but she wondered if he inherently understood that she needed a break from the overload of emotions all around her.
He always did seem so in tune with what she needed.
Trey was oblivious to her internal monologue. “If you were just using sex as a way to buy affection, I wouldn’t have consented to our agreement. But it was obvious from the beginning we were on the same page. What you and I have done is business. I know you get no pleasure from it.”
It was an automatic reaction to protest, but he tilted his head, fixing her with a knowing look. “Don’t bullshit me. I know the difference between a fake orgasm and a real one.” He touched his free hand to her arm. “That’s fine. I needed a release. That’s what I was paying for, and that’s what I got.”
His words cut off, and he snapped his mouth shut, appearing deep in thought. It was obvious he was thinking twice about whatever he was about to say. “If we ever . . . If you and I were ever to have sex—not for business, but because it was what we wanted to do—it would be very different.”
He continued on, before she could say anything to that. “Of course, I understand that your past somehow led to your present, but that’s true of all of us. Would I be studying psychology if it weren’t for Kassandra? Probably not. Who knows. Either way, you’ve made a conscious choice to do what you do. As a friend, I will never disrespect your choice as long as you’re not hurting yourself or anyone else.” His smile was gentle. “That doesn’t mean I won’t encourage you to want more. It is a dead end job, and you’re capable of so much better.”
Lilith sighed, feeling tired. Everyone seemed to expect she was capable of more, but no one could tell her what that was supposed to be.
His thumb swept just under where her IV needle disappeared into her skin, soothing the ever-present itch there. “So you see? What I said the other night wasn’t about any of that. You have . . . issues, but I don’t think your issue is what you do.”
Lilith smiled. His whole speech tonight sounded like he was delivering a thesis. Trey wasn’t without his quirks.
“My issue is that I lie through my teeth,” she murmured after a moment. Denial took more energy than self-reflection, it seemed.
“Well, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s . . . I mean, I understand why you would lie to your clients.” He squeezed her hand. “But is that all I am to you?”
Looking down at their fingers again, she shook her head. “That is my issue, you know. I lie. I can’t stop.” She ran the pad of her finger over his skin. “I don’t . . . if you knew I was lying, why do you even like me enough to want to be my friend?”
At that he chuckled, and she looked up, surprised to see him grinning. “I don’t think you understand how rare it is for me to get along with someone as well as I get along with you.”
“Well—”
“I know. You’re going to say you were being paid to get along with me, but I don’t think that’s the whole truth. Yeah, you were being paid to be there.” Humor touched his eyes as he tilted his head. “Let’s not discuss the pathology of that because I’ll admit, sometimes I was paying you to stick around because I was lonely, but believe me; no one has the discussions we have because they’re being paid.” He pursed his lips. “I like to dissect things, concepts.”
“People.”
He smirked, his smile lighting his eyes. “Yes. People, too. Most get impatient with me, and I with them, because they want a shallow connection—what did you do this weekend, who did you screw, what movie did you watch?” His smile was gentle. “Our connection isn’t shallow.”
There was a joke to be made there, but Lilith wasn’t up to it. Her head felt heavy with this overload of information.
Again, like with her father, she wanted to believe. She did. She wanted to tell him she could be his friend. Lilith had no idea what kind of a friend she could be. She knew she didn’t want him to leave, but there was that nagging voice in her he
ad that said it was selfish to want him to stay.
If she didn’t have the words, would he fade away from her life?
In the end, he made it as easy as changing the subject. “So. That guy . . . what was his name? Mal?”
“Oh, Mal. I’m sorry about him.”
“No, that’s okay. He was in protective mode.” His eyes swept her form, and she saw his lips tug down at the corners. “I can’t say I blame him.”
Falling back into conversation with him was simple. She told him about Mal and Dana and a little about her father, and the world didn’t fall down around her.
It was a start.
Chapter 15
~Ten Months Later~
As she stepped down from the witness stand, Lilith was racked with uncontrolled shakes. How she managed to make it the few steps from the stand to the gallery where a small entourage waited for her, she never knew. It was the longest walk of her life, but she got to them.
Dana and Lilith wrapped their arms around each other’s waists, not caring that it made walking awkward. Mal fell into step on her other side, his arm over her shoulders, and her father brought up the rear, as if guarding them all.
Lilith closed her eyes and didn’t open them again until they were at the car.
Before she ducked into the backseat, her father kissed the side of her head. “I’m proud of you Lily-bean.”
She might have argued, but even she had to admit getting through her testimony without curling up into a fetal ball had been a feat. Frank’s lawyers were among the best in the state, and they’d been ruthless. She was a tough chick, she knew she was, but they’d raked her over the coals.
For two years, she’d lived a peaceful life without hurting anyone, yet his lawyers made it sound as though she were the devil incarnate. She was salacious and scandalous—a succubus preying on men, bewitching them. Of course, Frank was painted as the victim. On paper, he looked better. He was educated and well liked at the university. His family gave to the community.
And Lilith was just a whore—uneducated and immoral. She’d gotten her fair share of hits in, so along with images of her battered body, the jury had been shown pictures of his bruised face and the stab wound. The picture had been taken soon after surgery so the wound looked angry and grisly.
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