Chapter 98: Wanting Details
- RAYA -
Every time I ask Dex what his uncle does, he seems to skirt the question.
"Is he a lawyer?" I ask, propped on the kitchen stool again where I’m often finding myself. Dex cooks, and I watch. Those are becoming our roles. I could help, but I’m honestly still too shaken up right now—despite the fact that it’s been hours since Lawson was here.
"He is very familiar with the law. Don’t worry about it, okay?" A muscle works in Dex’s jaw while he focuses on the food. Beautiful smells are rising around him, and I wonder if he realizes how much he seems like a wizard right now. That’s how foreign culinary talents are to me—they seem like some kind of wizardry.
"What did you tell Lawson about why you didn’t show up at the office today?" I’m still fidgeting, still nervous.
"I told him I had car trouble."
"What kind of car trouble?"
"Does it matter what kind of car trouble?" He says with a crooked smile.
Dex is becoming vexed by my questions, I can tell—despite his smile. And I understand. I haven’t stopped asking them, and I keep asking for more details. It’s as if details will satisfy my anxiety—allow me to paint an entire picture in my mind about what’s happening instead of being left with only these fractured, disjointed images. There is an impulse to want to examine this from every angle and judge for myself what is believable, what’s a good idea, what makes sense.
Should I not have told Dex about what happened? Should I have been stronger and kept this whole thing to myself? Found a way to deal with Lawson myself?
Dex looks up from what he’s doing and smiles more reassuringly—the kind of smile that reaches all the way to his eyes and softens them, sending my worries scattering once again. And I sigh, allowing it—allowing the comfort in.
"I told you not to worry," he says, his voice finding that same lovely, soothing tone that put me to sleep when he was telling me about his travels all over the world.
He wipes his hands on a dish cloth and tosses it on the counter before coming to my side and rubbing my shoulders, kissing my forehead, and then cupping my face and kissing my lips—pausing there for a breath and allowing me to just feel his presence this close. It’s powerful—the way he can send my heart fluttering and calm everything else at the very same time.
"I’m going to take care of this. I need you to trust me." His gaze passes from my lips to my eyes. "No more questions, Raya. Just trust me. Can you do that?"
"Yes." It’s a whisper induced by the intoxication of his breath and warmth and voice.
"Good. Let’s not talk about it anymore."
He caresses my face, lingering until I nod, and then he returns to the meal he’s preparing with a wink.
———————
- DEX -
Lawson. My own brother—my blood. He was here, in this house, with Raya pinned against the wall. And she felt threatened to the extent that she had to run from him and lock herself in a room.
I can’t stop seeing the look on her face when she opened the bedroom door to let me in... the terror mixed with relief, the way she was shaking... and after everything she has been through. The thought of that makes a fury burn so hot in my veins I never knew it was possible.
This is why the desire to protect her is so great. I’m starting to realize that it’s like an alarm—an instinct alerting me to the dangers she faces that I may not otherwise be aware of. Now that I know, I’m not going to overlook it next time. And now that I’m seeing just how fucked up my brother is, I’m not going to let him get away with it any longer.
What Lawson did in coming here, in cleverly arranging for me to be gone, in planning to use Raya and... what? Seduce her? Force himself on her? Threaten her? That’s enough to make me want to kill him without even considering the fact that he went into the guest house knowing someone was there and then took probably the most intimate thing of hers he could have.
If I’m right, those notebooks contain every dream she’s had of me. Not even I have read them, and now they’re etched into my brother’s mind—memorized, apparently—and distorted from whatever beautiful, divine prophesy they held of Raya and I meeting to something sick that he now fantasizes about.
It’s taking everything I have to not chase after him. It took everything I have to lie to him about why I didn’t show up to the meeting. And now I’m trying to stay calm and reassuring and comforting for Raya instead of revealing the rage that is clawing to get out.
I wonder what the fuck is going through Lawson’s head right now. Well, no—I take that back. I don’t wonder. I don’t want to know the darkness that lurks there that has been hidden from me and the rest of the world all this time. But he has to know that Raya would tell me about what happened. What is his defense to all of this going to be?
Then again, Lawson can’t possibly know how important she is to me. How could he? It’s been such a short time since I met her. And there’s no way he would have come here to talk to her if he was aware of it. No, he believed that Raya was simply here scheming to help him.
Since she’s just any other girl in his mind, Lawson is going to think that I will believe whatever story he has over hers. It’s that simple. He’s going to say Raya’s lying. And what better alibi than him and Jeremy meeting at work?
I told my father I would never ask my uncle or cousins for a favor, but if threats from me aren’t going to do anything to stop Lawson, I’m willing to use what means I have available. There’s no way he’s getting close to Raya again.
"This looks delicious," Raya says when I set the plates on the counter, and the gentle smile, the comfort of her presence is enough to save me from these thoughts for the moment.
"It’s simple. I’ll teach you sometime."
"It may be simple to you, but I’m not so sure I can replicate something like this. To me, it seems like it’s closer to magic," she laughs a soft, breathy reply.
She’s still nervous, but at least she has stopped shaking. That’s a relief. As much as I want to ask her more about what happened so I can dissect every little detail of what my brother did and let my anger feed on it, I don’t want Raya to remain in that memory. She has been through entirely too much as it is.
I remember how traumatized she was after the accident—the psychological shock she endured in the hours afterward—and it was such a huge accomplishment for her to come out of it as well as she did. Keeping her reliving what happened today is asking for the same kind of trauma response, and I don’t want to see that vacant, helpless look in her eyes again like she’s staring into an inescapable void. No doubt Lawson has already shaken her. I just hope it wasn’t bad enough that it will add to the rest.
I really want to ask her about how she kneed him in the balls, because that’s got to be what happened. She just said she kneed him, but the only way that would have enough of an impact for her to get away is if she nailed him there. And that’s fucking amazing. I want to go back and cheer her on from the sidelines, and I’d really love to see my brother’s face. I hope Raya did permanent damage. Lawson should never reproduce.
"What are you smiling at?" Raya asks, smiling as well as she looks at me curiously.
I chuckle and rake a hand over my face. I guess it won’t hurt to tell her.
"Imagining you kneeing Lawson. He’s probably still in pain."
"I hope so," she says, but she grimaces like she’s the one experiencing the pain. Why does she do that? Why does she share in the emotions of others when they don’t deserve it?
If Raya knew what I wanted to do to Lawson, she wouldn’t approve. And that’s why she can’t know. Hopefully I can just get her to trust me and not question it, because Lawson doesn’t deserve any empathy. And Raya may have been a victim in many situations in her life, but she is every bit an empath—incapable of not feeling for another, even if they are the villains who have wronged her.
