Lily claps her hands. “So take a shower—not with me of course. You know, by yourself. Just you. I’ll be right here. In this bedroom, not anywhere near your nakedness.” She’s fire-engine red.
It’s hard to not laugh. I head to the bathroom, already concocting an escape route. I’ll just leave out the backdoor and through the garage. “Where’s Jane?” I ask.
“With Rose.”
Maybe she’s planning to drop her off at her mother’s house. “Where are we going tonight?” I try asking straight out.
Lily opens her mouth and then shuts it. I watch as she squints at me, attempting to narrow her eyes. “You’re asking too many questions.”
I swing open the bathroom door. “What happens if I leave this house?”
“Wait, are you planning on leaving already?” She shifts nervously on her feet like she has to pee. “You can’t leave yet, and if you do, I’ll have no choice but to use physical force.” It’s comical coming from the girl wearing a fuzzy hat that has a face and horns. “And I may also have to call for backup.”
Backup?
The minute she emphasizes the word, the door blows open and Ryke and Loren saunter into my bedroom, both dressed casually in jeans and T-shirts. The handcuffs are unmistakable in Ryke’s clutch.
I still stand halfway between the bathroom and my bedroom, bottling my aggravation. “If you want me to cuff you to my bed, all you have to do is ask.”
“Hilarious,” Ryke says, “but these aren’t for me.”
Lo is half distracted by his wife, tugging the flaps of her Wampa cap and kissing her cheek. She whispers rapidly to him, accidentally gesturing to me, more obvious than stealthy.
“You’re early, darling,” I quip, pulling Lo’s attention to me. “I never cuff you before noon.”
He smiles. “Today is different, love.”
I shake my head. “No, today is the same as any other day unless the three of you try to make it something more.”
“Here’s the deal,” Lo says. “You’re going to take a shower, get dressed, and no Jedi mind-tricking anyone.” He looks to Lily at that last request and she nods in approval.
“You’re not going to tell me what Rose has planned, are you?”
“Not a chance.” If he was closer, I’m sure he would’ve patted my shoulder. His phone rings, after checking the caller ID. “It’s my marketing assistant.” Theo. “Ryke, will you—”
“I have him,” Ryke says. “Take the call.” Lo leaves with Lily, and I fixate on Ryke’s silver handcuffs again.
“Are you planning on handcuffing me to the shower?”
Ryke stares unflinchingly at me. “If I fucking have to.”
Wonderful.
I restrain the urge to roll my eyes—which is something I almost never do. I slip into the bathroom and start shedding my clothes, leaving the door wide open. I could stay in here for a while, but Ryke purposefully foils my plan, entering the bathroom with me.
He hops onto the counter, opening and closing the latches on the handcuffs with a key. “Don’t take longer than thirty fucking minutes. I don’t want to be in here anymore than you want me in here.”
Ryke is the muscle: the only one who can physically keep me in Philadelphia, which is why he has now replaced Lily as my unofficial guard.
I’m on house arrest.
On a day where I usually flee the country alone.
I step out of my boxer-briefs and near the glass shower. “I wasn’t aware that dogs can tell time.”
“Fuck you,” he says, his words harsher than usual. It can’t be for the small joke.
“Normal people don’t curse out their friends on their birthday,” I mention before slipping into the shower, warm water beating down on my tense body.
He speaks loud enough that I hear him. “And normal people don’t manipulate their friends on Christmas!”
This. “I’m not normal!” I shout through the gushing water, running my hands along my wet hair.
Through the fogged glass, I can make out Ryke’s silhouette, head shaking. “You made me think that you had the same relationship with your mom that I had with mine, just so I would fucking tell you about my childhood.”
He asked me: Wasn’t Christmas just your mom and you?
I replied: I’m assuming it was for you. I never said yes. I never said no. I never answered his question until he answered mine. “All you had to do was read deeper into my words,” I explain, raising my voice without shouting now. “And you would’ve realized that I never agreed with you.” I scrub shampoo in my hair.
“Sometimes I feel like you purposefully make it hard for me to trust you.”
It’s not my intention, though I know it’s a consequence of prodding in someone’s life. We’re both quiet while I finish taking a shower. After shutting off the water, I wrap a towel around my waist and step out. I head to my sink where Ryke still sits.
“I’m not telling you how many pages I can read,” he says, briefly looking up from the handcuffs to meet my eyes. He’s talking about his Christmas present. In his blank journal that he’d given me last year, I wrote passages to him in several different languages.
I squirt a line of toothpaste on my toothbrush. “I didn’t think you would.” I wrote truthful, honest messages about him, things that I admire, but he won’t be able to read the ones that he can’t understand, not without an online translator at least.
I brush my teeth.
“You confuse the fuck out of me,” he says under his breath. He thinks I had an ulterior motive with the journal. I had none.
I rinse my mouth and spit out water. “Says the guy who makes everyone think he’s stupid when he’s smart.” He speaks different languages. He votes in every election. I bet he can quote authors. I bet he understands references that Rose and I use. He shrouds these parts of himself, as if they’re reminders of how he was raised. As the “yes kid” who did what his mother asked of him.
Study hard for me. Yes, Mom.
Be athletic for me. Yes, Mom.
Run track for me. Yes, Mom.
Learn French for me. Yes, Mom.
Stay quiet for me. Yes, Mom.
Lie for me. Yes, Mom.
Tell no one about me. Yes, Mom.
The yes kid has no opinions of his own. The yes kid has no voice.
I’m not sure when Ryke finally spoke freely, but it’s clear he hates returning to that place. I can still see remnants of it in him when he struggles to open up. He’s used to being silent about specific parts of his life.
“I don’t make anyone think anything,” he retorts. “I just don’t give a fuck about trying to prove them wrong.”
“You are who you are.” I set my toothbrush back in the holder. “At least you have five people that can put up with you.”
He flips me off and then raises the handcuffs like it’s time, Cobalt.
I blink twice. “You’re not serious.”
“Lo said to think of it as birthday punishment.” He hops off the counter, one inch shorter than me.
“And why am I being punished exactly?” I head into my closet, picking out black slacks and a white button-down.
“I don’t fucking know,” he says from within my bedroom. “Maybe for being an arrogant prick seven days a week.” I step into my pants and begin to button my shirt as he adds, “Or how about for making a birthday celebration harder than it has to be.”