Time with Mr. Silver: Chapter 12

“WHERE ARE WE?”

Rose wrinkles up her nose as I open the car door for her, and she looks over at the giant woodland cabin.

“You’ll see.”

I take her hand in mine and lead her over to the open doorway.

“What is this place?” Rose looks at the neat line of shoes on the wooden deck that wraps around the cabin.

I pull her up the steps and drop to one knee on the deck in front of her, running a hand up her inner thigh, my fingers dusting the smooth, exposed skin.

“Dax, what are you—?”

I hold her gaze as I take the zip of her boot between my fingers and slide it slowly all the way to her ankle.

“No shoes inside.”

She glances to the door of the cabin again, then back to me, lifting her foot from her boot and placing it down, then shifting her weight as I remove the other one for her.

“Oh… right.”

I stand and yank my sneakers and socks off, placing them down next to hers.

“Come on.”

I walk us inside, and Emma, the class instructor, waves a hand in greeting, walking over to us.

“Hello, Dax.”

I smile at her. “Emma, this is Rose. Rose, Emma.”

“Hi.” Rose smiles at Emma shyly, her eyes darting around the room at the mats laid out on the floor.

“Is this your first sound bath?”

“Um…” Rose looks at me, then her eyes land on the large circular gong and various sized singing bowls set up at the front of the room. “Oh, yes. I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never been to one.”

“Well, Dax is a regular. I’m sure he can help you get set up?”

I nod.

“It’s an hour-long meditation,” she says to Rose. “I will use the gong and bowls to create sound frequencies that help to rebalance your inner vibration. Think of your inner self as having a frequency. When your vibration is running to optimum, the signal is clear. But many things in our daily lives can imbalance us—whether it be something emotional we are holding on to, or something physical. I would ask that once you’re settled, you set yourself an intention for today. Think about what you need help with. What seems out of balance. The more specific you can be, the more you will take away with you tonight. Some people find it quite an emotional experience, so I have tissues at the front should you need them.” Emma squeezes Rose on the forearm and then moves past us to speak with another participant.

“I won’t need tissues. I never cry,” Rose murmurs as she continues to gaze around the room. “Do you come here a lot?”

I take us over to two side-by-side matts with rolled up duvets and pillows next to them.

“Once or twice a month.”

She sits down on one of the matts, looking around the room at the twelve other spaces that are already filled.

“And what intention do you set? Sorry.” She brings her clear eyes back to mine. “I shouldn’t ask that.”

“It’s fine.” I lay her pillow out and unroll her duvet. “I use it as a method to control my anger.”

“You have a lot of that?”

I encourage her to lie back onto the pillow and pull the duvet up over her.

“Sometimes.” I give her a small smile. “But mostly, it’s to keep Jasmin off my back. She doesn’t want me to almost kill someone and get locked up again.”

“Oh.” Rose gazes up at me, and I brush a strand of hair from her eyes.

“Turns out, I enjoy them. But don’t tell her that.” I smirk as I take my position and Emma starts the class.

For the next hour, I bathe in vibration and sounds that pull me from my body and let me relax. To clear my mind of work. Of Julian Young. Of revenge. Of all things underhand and impure and ugly and dirty that I am involved in. They all drift away until I am left with the incredible inner calm I feel when I am here. Only this time, it’s infused with the scent of vanilla and petals. And it calls to me like nothing ever has before.

“How did you find it?” I ask Rose as the class ends and everyone else leaves.

She’s lying on her back, her eyes open with her lids hooded. She looks serene, the usual tightness around her eyes gone.

“I felt it through the floor.”

“The vibrations?”

“Yeah. And I… you’ll think I’m weird.”

“Try me.”

“I just… I kept seeing clouds. Kind of like I was dreaming. But I wasn’t asleep.”

“That’s not weird. You were in a meditative state.”

She inhales, then lets it out slowly. “Dad used to look at the clouds with me when I was a kid. We would watch for shapes. The weirder, the better.” She smiles. “If I ever worried about anything, he would tell me to look for the silver lining. He said there always was one. We always planned to go up in a hot air balloon together, because I said I wanted to look and find it.”

Rose’s eyes dart to Emma at the front of the room as she stacks up the singing bowls.

“It’s fine. Take your time,” I whisper.

The rest of the class have left already. We are the only two here, along with Emma, who knows when it’s someone’s first time, they might need that little extra time to come back from wherever they went. She continues packing up quietly. But Rose is already on her knees rolling her duvet up.

“Thank you so much,” she calls to Emma as she stands.

Emma smiles and walks over.

“How did you find your first time?”

“It was incredible,” Rose breathes with complete sincerity. “The vibrations through the floor were odd at first, but then I kind of got lost in the sound, like it was only me here and no one else. I saw memories like a movie playing in my head. Ones I haven’t thought about in a while.”

“That’s great. It’s a very powerful thing. The more you do it, the more you’ll be able to bring those feelings of peace and calm with you into each day. And call on them when you need them. It was lovely to meet you, I hope to see you again. Bye, Dax.”

We head outside and retrieve our shoes. Rose has a faraway look on her face as she stares off through the woods. It’s getting dark.

“Do you want to try something else I sometimes do after a class?”

She smiles. “Sure.”

“I just write it?”

“Yeah.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want.”

She chews on her bottom lip, her bare legs spread out over the grass lawn behind the main house. “So I could wish for a new life?”

I frown as I hand her the small notepad and pen.

“If you had a new life, then you wouldn’t be you anymore.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” Her hand catches mine as she takes the pad, and a fission of electricity darts up my arm.

“It would be for me.”

Her lips part and she rounds her big blue eyes on me.

“Write it down, Sunbeam,” I say, turning away. “It’s time to let that shit go.”

She scribbles something down on the pad, tears the paper off, and hands me the pad and pen. “If I’m doing this, then so are you.”

“I know.” I write on the pad, ripping it off and folding it up.

“So now we burn them?” She looks at the small campfire I’ve set going.

“You can say something if you like.”

“Will you go first?” Her voice drops and she looks at me, hunching her shoulders in toward her chest.

I unzip my black hoodie and place it around her. The day was warm, but as the sun is now low in the sky, the temperature has dropped.

I hold her gaze, then turn to the fire, letting its glowing flames dance in my eyes as I picture the face of the man I hate. The man who took me away from my life for two and a half years.

“To putting things right,” I say as I flick my paper into the flames. It catches right away, curling up and shriveling into black ash.

Rose watches me and then takes a deep breath.

“To forgiveness.” She tosses her paper into the fire and her choice of words slashes me like claws across the heart.

Forgiveness.

Here she is, so beautiful and so fucking pure in her spirit that she’s wishing and hoping for forgiveness.

While all I am wishing for is a slow and cruel revenge as I see the look in the man’s eyes who I hate as I destroy everything that matters to him.

Another perfect example of why I am no good for her and the sooner she goes back to New York, the better.

“I know you are fulfilling a favor by giving me the job here. But I still don’t know what miracle my family thinks is going to happen by me coming here.” She picks at the grass. “It’s not like me being here will bring my dad back or make Brett’s injuries disappear.”

“I don’t think they are trying to change the past. No one can do that.”

“Well then, what do they expect?” Her voice pitches as she looks at me and then lets out a deep sigh. “What do they expect me to do?”

I wish I could clear away the haze that’s in her eyes, falling like a cloak over her, weighing her down.

Guilt.

I recognize it. I understand it.

“They want you to live your life. Not to blame yourself. It’s self-destructive, Rose. It serves you no purpose at all.”

“But it is my fault.”

My chest clenches, a burn running through it, so hot that I may as well have embers from the fire smeared across my skin. She truly believes it.

“Has your mom told you it’s your fault? Or your brother, Brett? Your sister?”

“Of course not. They aren’t monsters.”

“That’s just you then?”

She looks at me in confusion.

“You’re your own monster. Placing this fear inside yourself. What’s so wrong with living your life? Why are you afraid to move on?”

“I…” She opens her mouth, shaking her head as she blinks rapidly. “I…” She narrows her eyes as she looks back at the fire. “Why should I be allowed to? Dad doesn’t get to live his life anymore. Brett doesn’t get to live his like he used to. All because of me.”

“Stop. Just stop.” I scrub a hand down my face and lean my elbows on my knees where I am sitting. “I’ve seen people’s darkness. I’ve watched people who like to hurt others, and the way they take pleasure in it. That’s not you. None of it was your fault. But you’re too scared to admit it.”

“I’m not scared.” Her eyes widen. “It is my fault.” She jabs a finger against her chest. “Mine. No one else’s. Brett was out looking for me. He was run over because of me. Dad had a heart attack because it all got too much.”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“Brett was looking for you because Gareth was a shit to you. He got hit because some driver was speeding and not paying attention, too wrapped up in his own life to care about anyone else. Your dad had a heart attack because life is just fucking unfair. Not because of you!” I drop my head into both hands and pull at my hair, relishing the sting as I pull the roots. If only I could tear the idea out of her head that she is to blame. Tear it out as easily as I could the roots from my head if I only pulled hard enough.

“No,” she whispers.

“Yes.” I drop my hands and spin my head in a rush, pinning her with a wild gaze. “Yes,” I say again, my voice forceful and loud. “You watch horror movies because it’s easier to see it. To detach yourself from it, instead of having to look at yourself. Use the fucking mirror I sent you, Rose.” I suck in an angry breath, my chest shaking with the effort to rein in my anger.

But it’s not anger aimed at her. It’s anger aimed at everything. The way she blames herself. The tightening in my chest that renders me almost breathless when there’s hurt in her eyes… in her voice. The way I left Jasmin alone for two and a half years. The way I’m supposed to be a free man, yet my life feels less like my own than when I was locked up. The way I can’t touch her. Not in the way I want to. Because she doesn’t deserve to be dragged into my shit. And it’s anger for the way her eyes linger on me sometimes. It’s anger for the way my heart somersaults when they do. The way it screams out for me to touch her. To see just what those lingering looks mean. See just how far she would let me take it.

But I can’t give her what she deserves.

I shouldn’t be losing myself like this. I should be talking to her. Trying to stay calm. But I know her well enough now to know that will never work. She will never listen. Not until she’s ready. If I want her to move on, then I must give her time.

“What good is looking in a mirror going to do me?” Rose moves forward so she is kneeling next to me, staring at me, searching my face for answers. She’s so close. Close enough that my eyes shutter closed as I inhale her scent with one deep breath, clenching and unclenching my hands where they rest on my legs.

“You need to see what everyone else sees. You have to see it and believe it.”

“And what is that?” she cries. “Because all I see is a mess. Someone who ruined so much.” Her voice breaks, and she screws her eyes shut, but no tears come.

That familiar tightening wraps around my chest like a vise, and I reach forward and grab her, pulling her into my arms until we fall back onto the soft grass together, me on my back, her against my chest.

“Don’t.” Her voice is muffled as I hold her into my side. “I don’t deserve your sympathy. I don’t want it.”

The tightening is joined by a burn as she melts into me like she was always supposed to fit there.

“You think this is for you?” I press my lips to her forehead. “This is for me, Sunbeam.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s true.” I sink a hand into her hair and dip my nose into it, inhaling slowly. “It’s all for me. You think you’re fucked up? You’re the perfect person for me to hold, because you won’t see just how fucked up my life is.”

“It’s not.” Her voice softens and she wraps an arm around my waist.

“You have no idea. You have no fucking idea.”

“So tell me,” she breathes. “Tell me about you, Dax. I want to know everything.”

No, you don’t, Sunbeam. Not everything. Trust me.

My arms stiffen around her, and she looks up at me, her eyes dry and red. If laying a little of my shit out for her to see distracts her for a while, then it’ll be worth it. Anything would be worth it to not have this unbearable burning in my chest when she looks at me like this.

“Jasmin told you Mom and Dad died,” I state, because she knows this already. “After they died, our grandparents got in touch. They must have found out about us somehow. We’d never met them before. Mom told me they were dead to her.”

“Why?”

I relax a little as Rose’s face softens and she watches me, waiting for my next confession.

“Mom said they were controlling. Overbearing. Nothing she did was good enough. No one was good enough. She told me when I was older that Dad wasn’t my biological dad, only Jasmin’s. But it didn’t matter to me. He’s the only dad I needed. He was there since I was a baby. But Mom told me she had another boyfriend once. And she knew my grandparents would never approve. His family had no money. My grandparents ran the distillery. It was hugely successful. They moved in different circles. They were snobs. So Mom lied about her surname so he wouldn’t know who her parents were, and she was planning to run away with him.”

“That must have been so hard for her. To make that decision.”

I blow out a disgusted breath. “Not as hard as when he fucked off and left her pregnant and alone. Left her with a baby and no relationship with her parents. No support. No family. Nothing. She moved away, like they had planned to do together. She did it all alone. A single mom. She needed that freedom from her parents. She was stubborn. It’s where Jasmin gets it from.”

“She didn’t go back home?” Rose looks up at me, her eyes already having lost their earlier redness.

I shake my head, dusting my lips over her forehead, breathing in vanilla and petals which helps more tension to leave my shoulders.

“No. She thought they would blame her for getting pregnant and being a single mom. It wouldn’t have been acceptable to them. She never even told them I existed. That bastard broke her. Left her with nothing,” I spit. “Moved back and married some other woman. They had a baby within a year. If Mom ever considered coming back for a moment, she told me the thought of seeing him again was enough to keep her away. She couldn’t face the thought of being rejected by both him and possibly her parents if she were to come home.”

“I’m so sorry, Dax. That sounds so awful for her. For you.”

“Don’t be. She met Dad, and they had Jasmin. We were a regular family. A happy one… Until they both passed away. Our grandparents heard what had happened and found me and Jasmin. We began building a relationship with them. Then they died as well, and it was the two of us again, only we inherited the estate to run.”

Rose tightens her arm around me. “That’s one hell of a story. You’ve both done so well. The business is thriving. And I should know. I’ve seen the books.” She gives me a small smile.

“Maybe. But then I fucked it up by smashing in a guy’s face. I let Jasmin down. She lost everyone. And then she lost me too.” I clench my teeth and drag a breath in through my nose.

“I don’t think she sees it like that. It wasn’t your fault.”

I snort. “That’s my line. If it’s not my fault, then whose is it?”

“The guy who made those comments. The one who sent Jasmin the photos,” Rose says immediately. “You know I’m right.”

I sink my nose into her hair. “Just like I was right when I said it was Gareth’s fault, or the driver’s fault.”

She falls silent in the crook of my arm and lays her head back down on my chest. The weight of it there brings a new calmness, and I allow my eyes to close as we lie together for a while until Rose speaks.

“After Brett’s accident, I started having this recurring dream. I would be running away from something I couldn’t see. Then I’d get inside the front door, but no matter how many times I turned the key, it would never lock. Whatever it was would reach the other side, and I would wake up as I watched the handle press down, knowing they were coming for me.”

I open my eyes and look down at her, but she’s gazing at the fire which has almost burned out.

“Do you still have it?”

“Sometimes. But do you know what was scarier for me?”

“Tell me.”

She twists her head to look into my eyes. “Seeing you covered in blood the other day. I sat with Brett for weeks in the hospital afterward. Seeing people hurt… I just… I don’t want to be cleaning up your blood again, okay?”

If only I could promise her. But I can’t. What I do is dangerous. And there’s every chance there will be blood. Hopefully, not mine next time.

“Okay, Dax?” she repeats when I don’t respond. She pushes up to a sitting position and stares at me, and more than anything, I yearn to pull her back down into my arms again. Instead, I sit up and slip a hand around the back of her neck, pressing my lips to her forehead again as I exhale.

“Dax? Promise me,” she whispers, gripping the front of my t-shirt in both hands.

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep. I wish things were different. You make me wish they were.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She pulls away from me.

I stare at her lips, then back up to her eyes.

I can’t go there with her.

“Nothing. It means nothing.”