“Are you okay?” Silas was silent the whole drive home, only speaking once we were back at his apartment.
“It’s been a long day,” I said. I was feeling pensive, mentally fatigued from all of the stuff that had happened over the course of the day. Holing up here with Silas, playing house and pretending like the real world didn’t exist was one thing; having the real world intrude and beat reality over both of ours heads was another thing entirely.
“Elias had no call to be talking like that,” Silas said.
“Actually, he’s right,” I said. “He hates me and with good reason.” I crossed my arms, leaned against the kitchen counter.
“He hates you for what you did to me,” Silas said. “It was a long time ago and he has no reason to be a dick about it now.” He stood in front of me, ran his finger down my arm, but I didn’t move.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “What the hell are we doing here, Silas?”
Silas exhaled heavily. “Tempest,” he said. “Don’t let whatever my brother said fuck things up now. The past is past.”
Except when it’s not.
“The past is never really past, Silas,” I said. I’d been staying here, playing pretend house with Silas, but I was just deluding myself into thinking there was a possibility I might leave things behind.
“I never stopped loving you, Tempest,” Silas said. He put his finger under my chin, tilted my head up to his and kissed me on the lips.
“You hated me, back then,” I protested.
“But I didn’t stop loving you,” he said. “And I know you feel the same way about me.”
Silas’ cell phone buzzed loudly in his pocket and he groaned. “Perfect fucking timing,” he said. “Ignore that.”
“You should take it,” I said. “It’s probably Elias.”
“No,” he insisted. “Ignore it.”
It buzzed twice more and Silas cursed under his breath. “Fine,” he said. “But you and I aren’t finished with this damn conversation.”
I sank back against the counter, hearing bits and pieces of the conversation as he walked into the living room. Something about a fight. Silas sounded agitated, but when he returned, he smiled.
“I want you to stay,” he said. “Here, in West Bend.”
“You take a phone call and you suddenly want me to stay?” I said, shaking my head. “What the hell were you talking about, a fight?”
“There’s a fight in Vegas my friend Trigg called me about,” he said. “With a good-sized purse.”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to be fighting,” I said. “Doctor’s orders.”
Silas shrugged. “You saw me fucking fight in Vegas,” he said, crossing the room and sliding his hands to my waist. “I wasn’t supposed to fight then, either. But I did and it was fine.”
I put my palms on his chest and pushed him away. “Why the hell would you do something like that, Silas?”
“Simmer down,” he said. “Why are you getting all pissy about it? It’s a fight. It’s ten grand. I can get a better place, and you can stay with me. In someplace...not like this hovel. Besides, you can come watch me. You’ll be my good luck charm.”
Fear clutched at my chest at the thought of Silas fighting again. “What the hell are you thinking? You’re the one who told me the doctor told you not to fight again. You had a head injury. You take another hit to the head and you could die.”
Silas stepped back from me, clenched his fists. “Doctors say shit like that,” he said. “It’s what they do. Cover their asses in case of lawsuits.”
“You know, for someone so smart, you can be really fucking stupid sometimes, Silas,” I said.
“Why are you being such a killjoy about this?” he asked. “This is our chance. It’s easy money and we’d have something to get set up with, something for us.”
“Why are you being so impulsive?” I asked. “You could die. There’s no such thing as easy money.”
Silas cocked his head to the side. “Says the grifter.”
“Yeah, says the grifter, Silas,” I said, my voice getting louder. “So you should fucking listen to me. It’s a colossally fucking stupid thing to do. Besides, I have money.”
Silas furrowed his brow, made a sound under his breath. “I don’t want your money.”
“Because it’s grifter money?” I heard my voice getting higher pitched.
“No, because I don’t want to not be able to take care of you.”
“I didn’t fucking ask you to take care of me, Silas,” I said. “I never needed taking care of before, and I sure as hell don’t need taking care of now. And what the hell are we even arguing about, anyway? I didn’t say I was moving back to West Bend, or moving someplace so you can take care of me.”
Silas stood still, clenching his jaw. His presumption that I’d move back here so he could take care of me was pissing me off.
He groaned loudly, and stomped across the room to lace up a pair of sneakers. “Damn it. I can’t think in here,” he growled. “I’m going for a fucking walk.”