A/N: Hello everyone! Hope you're having a great week! Here's the newest update for Star's story. I will warn you that we're still in the shadows here. The storm's going to wreak havoc first before it moves on. Hope you enjoy!
***
I wondered if I would look any different from almost a year ago when I last donned on this costume.
It was the same golden blonde hair flowing down my back in loose waves, the same heavy dark eyeliner that rimmed my already deep, dark eyes. My cheeks were flushed and glowing, my lips puckered in a vibrant scarlet pout.
The body was the same—all bare graceful shoulders, generous breasts swelling above the line of my black lace corset that trimmed my already small waist, and long, shapely golden legs exposed by tiny black boy-leg leather shorts.
I was the very picture of sultry seduction—a part I could play well in a snap with no reservations or guilt.
The Star that looked back at me almost a year ago had inscrutable eyes. After all, you couldn't see emotions that weren't there.
The Star that looked back at me tonight showed way too damned much in her eyes. After all, you couldn't hide emotions that were bleeding out of you.
I've always been proud of my mercenary heart.
It kept food on the table, a roof over our heads. In a world where you only got what you needed by taking it, it was an important trait.
I was proud to master it and never had to justify it to myself or anyone else.
But you didn't have Julian then.
Did I still have him now?
Tricky question.
Last night, at Matt's party, Julian made it clear that he wasn't going anywhere.
But that didn't mean I was doing the same thing and staying exactly where I was.
I couldn't.
It became clear to me last night that Julian didn't know what was good for him. That for all the hurt I could inflict him, I couldn't push him away. It was the same stupid love that victimized people and made weak, pathetic fools out of them.
I wouldn't, couldn't, be one of them.
And maybe if I knew that with certainty, I wouldn't waste time getting tempted with the idea that I might be the girl Julian saw me to be when I was clearly not. And maybe with my mind made up, I wouldn't drag him farther into this mess.
Maybe I would have more guts to shove him as far away from me as possible.
Maybe I wouldn't be so weak and afraid to give up the kind of light only he could fill me with.
Maybe I would learn to be happy again in the darkness where none of my sins needed to be bared.
So smile, Star. Smile and remember who you really are—or at least who you will be for tonight.
My cellphone buzzed on top of my night stand. I picked it up and flicked open the text message.
[Dean: I'm at the hotel. I'll order the usual. Can't wait to see you.]
Taking a deep breath, I slid my phone into the black chain-strapped evening purse I picked out for tonight and grabbed my matching trench coat from the foot of the bed. I calmly slipped it on, buttoning it almost all the way up to conceal my outfit underneath. Then with practiced hands, I gathered my hair together and twisted it into a loose knot at the base of my neck, holding it in place with a few pins. Then I took a bone-white silk scarf I've always paired with this outfit and secured it around my hair, keeping most of it out of sight.
I had just reached the bottom of the stairs when the front door eased open, freezing me on the spot.
Julian had gone out to hang out with Kit and a few buddies after he rolled out of bed early this afternoon. Kit and Nisha were still on the outs after last night and with a big decision on his best friend's shoulders, Julian thought he should keep him company and offer moral support. He didn't mention the opposite kind of support I gave Nisha last night in the brief voicemail he left me earlier since I had been working at Uni-Save. In fact, he made no mention of our heated conversation last night or of our rocky status. With a text, I'd told him to do what he needed to do and that I wouldn't mind spending some time home alone doing some schoolwork. I only needed to see Dean for a couple of hours since he never needed more than that. I figured I would be back by nine which was early for a bunch of college guys out to drink away their miseries.
"Star?" Julian called out from behind a big cluster of assorted tiger lilies—some light pink, some orange, some purple. With one arm, he carefully carried the flowers and a paper bag of take-out into the townhouse while attempting to close the door with his other one. "Babe! Where are you?"
"I'm right here." My voice was strangely even and flat.
I thought tonight would be a catharsis of some sort for me—that with my deliberate return to the old Star, I would finally be able to exorcise Julian out of my system along with all the false hopes a short-sighted, short-lived romance with him had given me. But I thought I would be the only one to see the wound the clean break would leave me—that I would be the only one to feel its pain and be reminded of its necessity. As much as I resented the position Julian had put me in, I had no intention of punishing him.
But it would seem that fate had other plans—that to irrevocably break the fragile ties that bound us, I had to make sure that Julian could see what I was doing and understand it for what it was.
"Oh, hey." He finally turned around and shifted the lilies to his side, the smile on his face fading incrementally as his eyes took in every inch of me from head to toe.
It only took a few seconds for a frown to form where the smile had been, his eyes narrowing as he questioned, "What's going on? Where are you going?"
I didn't look like the girl he'd been sweetly and patiently wooing the past few months. Even if all that was really visible were my dolled up face and my blonde wig, I looked more like the Eve I'd played that Halloween night when I gave in to impulse, took a bite of the apple and tempted Julian to do the same.
Sometimes, the only way to let the poison out is to let someone bleed.
"I have an appointment," I said briskly. "I'll be out for a few hours."
Julian didn't move from the door. "What appointment? And why are you dressed like that?"
My shoulders squared as my resolve chipped just ever so slightly around the edges. "I'm meeting an old client."
"What do you mean client?" Horror started to slowly dawn on Julian's face.
I told myself to keep the blades razor-sharp. That was the only way to cut through Julian cleanly. A dull, jagged edge would be more painful for him, more messy.
"Dean is an older businessman I met about three years ago at one of Josie's private parties," I explained calmly and reasonably. "He pays me generously for a little stripping."
The furious flush started to creep up from underneath Julian's collar, climbing quickly to his neck. "I thought you stopped stripping a while ago."
I gave a delicate shrug. "I did but I spent all my savings on Mom's hospital bills and I need to pay for my mining trip to Yukon. It was just a convenient coincidence that Dean contacted me. His patronage has always been very lucrative."
I expected Julian to explode by now. His face looked heated, his eyes blazing, his clenched jaw ticking at the corner. I just wanted the yelling to be over so I could slam the door close and leave.
But he slowly set the flowers and food down on the entry bench and raked a hand through his hair, dragging in a breath as if he was having trouble with it.
I curled my fists when I felt the tingle on my fingers to press against Julian's chest and smooth his anxiety away.
"Don't do this, Star," was his raspy whisper, pain clear in those mossy green eyes. "Whatever it is, let me help you."
"There's nothing to help, Julian, because I have it under control," I returned stonily. "It's just a job that pays the bills."
"You know that's not true," he insisted. "I've watched you talk about it. It eats at you."
I pressed my lips together, trying to tighten my steel armor suit in place so it was impenetrable. "I think your biggest downfall is putting too much stock into my actions. You credit every single thing I do with some kind of desperate cry for help. You just can't accept that I can and will do things for the basest of reasons. You want to play hero and you want me to play your damsel in distress. Well, guess what, Julian—I've always been my own fucking hero."
His eyes widened with hurt. "I'm not trying to live out some kind of hero fantasy here, Star. I'm just trying to help you be happy because for all the things you claim you can do with no qualms, being happy is the one thing you can't bring yourself to do."
Anger flared inside me. "I'll be happy once I'm finally done having to take care of everyone else. I'm telling you this so we can both stop pretending we're going anywhere together, Julian. I'm telling you that no matter what kind of pretty fairytale you spin for me, I can't shake off my reality and that reality includes making the kinds of decisions I'm making tonight. I'm off to bare my body to a near stranger for cold hard cash. I won't lose sleep over it but you will. And it won't be the last of my decisions that you won't be able to live with. So don't make this harder than it has to be. Take your heart and give it to someone who has a use for it."
Julian looked like he got sucker punched but he braced himself through that blow. "How much will it take to keep you from walking out the door? Because regardless of where we stand right now, I'm not going to let you put yourself in danger spending an evening alone with some strange man."
Somewhere in my chest I felt the sting of his question but I forced a smile on my face. "Dean's not that much of a stranger to me. And he never touches me which is why he's the only man I've agreed to have this arrangement with. He just wants to sit there in the shadows and watch me. Maybe he touches himself, I don't know. His wife has been battling cancer for a few years now. He loves her very much and would never cheat on her but he told me once that sometimes, he just wants to remember what it's like to feel alive again."
Julian's expression turned into disgust. "That's not love. He's just a sick fuck."
I laughed a little hysterically. "The world's full of them, Julian, and they've been good for my business. And who's to say that's not love? It sounds just as terribly fucked up as every popular version of it out there."
"You think that because that's the only kind of example you register in your memory as love," he retorted. "Everything else that's nowhere near like it you simply credit either as a fluke or fantasy."
My feigned amusement subsided into a tiny brittle smile. "Yet another reason why you and I will never see things the same way."
"Okay. Then let's talk in terms you'll never see any other way," he said fiercely. "Let's talk dollars. How much will it take for you to drop Dean tonight and stay here instead?"
I felt the ice in my veins. "I'm not making those arrangements with you."
"How am I different from any paying customer?" he snapped. "Tell me how much, dammit!"
I yelled out a number twice what Dean would normally pay me for a session, my face burning hot.
His jaw tightened as he turned toward the door of his bedroom. "Don't move."
I couldn't even if I wanted nothing more than to bolt through the door and run. It was like being stuck in the tracks watching as the train came at you in a blinding flash.
"I have about half of it in cash," Julian said as he stormed out of the bedroom, throwing a wad of money down the coffee table. Then he wrote on a piece of post-it note he was clutching in his other hand before digging his wallet out. "Here's my debit card with my pin on it. You can take it and get the rest of the money out."
He slapped the note on the plastic card and tossed it on top of the cash on the table. "Take more if you want—I don't really care. Just don't go."
I stared at the money on the table, my mouth dry and my eyes burning hot with tears I won't allow to fall.
I remembered Julian's tender, almost reverent intimacies on my body—how despite his own relentless needs, he would never demand more than I was prepared to give. I remembered him telling me he loved me, that he wanted not just my body but my heart as well.
The heart I couldn't give him, the body I could—freely and willingly.
But I guess, in the end, he's paying you for it, after all.
I felt the bile rise in my throat, almost as bitter as the regret swallowing me whole from the inside.
But regret was something my heart was never built for so I clutched something else in place of it. Something I could make sense with, something that felt like a shot of adrenaline to my weakening heart. Something that would bring me back from what felt like a cold, empty death.
"Fine." The word had come out in a hiss just before I thrust my chin up, looking boldly in to his eyes. "Sit down and I'll give you your money's worth."
Julian frowned. "I don't want anything for it except for you to stay—"
"Sit the fuck down, Julian, because I'm not going to owe you any more favors!" I said balefully, setting my purse down and pulling the scarf off my hair.
Julian watched, half-entranced, half-desperate to do something else, as I started unbuttoning my trench coat.
None of my usual cool, calm and collected approach was in attendance at this moment. I didn't think of the music, the lighting or any of technical aspects of my solo production. I was solely focused on Julian absently settling into the couch in front of me.
This wasn't a performance.
This was a reckoning—my dance across the fires that would burn me clean to the bone. Julian would see every layer scorch away—from scar to skin to flesh to soul.
Perhaps, once my ashes had blown away, he would be freed.
With trembling fingers, I loosened one button at a time, moving my body in a slow, seductive sway as each inch of my skin was revealed.
I heard and watched Julian's sharp intake of breath the moment the coat dropped to the floor. His eyes glinted with raw, hungry desire, warming my body that felt stone cold.
Needing to feed on that heat, on that light, my body took off on its own beat, moving my arms, hips and legs in a tempting cadence that had Julian clutching the arm of the couch.
"Star..." His eyes dragged up along my body and slammed into mine.
They were no longer bright with desire—they were bright with what seemed like tears.
"Star... Stop." His voice was hoarse and he held up a hand as if his verbal command hadn't been clear enough.
My body stilled, the cold returning. "Why?"
His throat worked as he continued to gaze at me, his eyes pleading now. "This isn't how I want you. This isn't what I want from you. I can't..."
He suddenly lunged to his feet and clutched at his temples. "Take the money. But I can't watch you do this to yourself... To us."
Before I could say anything else, he stormed past me and out the front door.
I was alone in the silence and the shame.
My breath came out in ragged gasps as I crumpled to my knees, groping the coffee table for support. My chin trembled and my shoulders shook as I fought the sobs that rose inside me. Then I slammed my fist down the table to jolt the desperation back down before it could wrap itself around my heart. Pain shot up my arm and I cried out, tears edging at the corners of my eyes.
"Stop it!" I yelled into the silence. I rocked back and forth on my knees, reaching for the money on the table with shaking hands and muttering under my breath, "You needed this to happen. You needed this to happen... Don't let it get to you now."
I gripped the cash with white-knuckled fingers, staring hard at the bills and fighting myself against releasing them. I needed their physical presence to remind me of what tonight had cost me. I needed them to remind me of who I really was. Of who I could never be.
After a few minutes, my breathing evened out and my eyes dried.
Slowly, I crawled toward my purse and made myself stash the money inside it. Then I carefully pulled myself up to my feet, shuttering every rip and hole inside of me with the practiced efficiency of the last nineteen years of my life.
I buttoned my coat back on and wrapped my hair with the scarf.
Don't do this, Star.
Julian's plea still rang clear in my head—hollow and haunting.
Ghosts are for the dead. And guilt is for the living.
To prove that I could walk away, that I could survive with what few fragments I had left of my heart and soul, I let myself out the door and into the night.
***
Dean Carstairs was attractive enough for a man in his mid-forties. Clean-cut, well-dressed and well-spoken, he was one of the few men who didn't repulse me with his interest when I first met him. Maybe because it wasn't really me or my body that he wanted. I was very much like what he was to me—a means to an end. That made our arrangement of meeting every few months convenient for the both of us.
Even after Ram came into the picture, I continued to meet with Dean in secret.
I danced, he watched and when it was over, we would sit and talk. He mostly talked and mostly about his wife, Karen, who was battling the late stages of colon cancer. In some way, we'd been friends of some sort.
When we saw each other again in the hotel room after more than six months, we were both different and we both knew it. Still, we offered the same pleasantries, went through the same motions.
When the music played and my body started to move, my eyes closed because all I could see was Julian's tortured gaze. I managed the fifteen-minute cab ride with dry eyes and a hardened attitude, even managed to smile and exchange courtesies with Dean.
But shame was a kindling that had long smoldered inside of me—finally catching fire with Julian tonight.
I'm just trying to help you be happy.
No. I didn't know how to be happy no matter how desperately I wanted to be.
I sabotaged every single chance I had at it because I couldn't bear to trust it to be real. And because of that, I was probably chasing something as unreachable to me as the stars.
I gasped in to catch a breath, stumbling on a step before fumbling to brace a hand against the wall as scalding tears finally spilled down my cheeks. The impact of tonight's events hit me in full force, leaving me breathless and weak in the knees and so very chilled to the soul.
"Star, what's wrong?"
A large, warm hand settled on my shoulder and my head swung up.
Dean was on his knees next to me, his face etched with concern in the light.
"I can't do this," I whispered, my shoulders shaking with my sobs. "I'm sorry... but I can't."
He let out a long, loud sigh and gingerly put an arm around my shoulders. Nothing about his touch was sexual—just plain, simple comfort. "It's okay, it's okay... I can't do this either."
I said nothing, just continued to cry the pain of the last nineteen years away while Dean stayed beside me with, offering the last thing I expected from him.
"My wife died three weeks ago," he finally said into the silence, his voice cracking slightly. "After I buried her, I only felt more numb, if that was even possible. I think I died long before she did."
I looked up at him and saw the anguish in his deeply-lined eyes. "I'm sorry... I know you loved her."
"In my own screwed up way, I did," he agreed with a faint pained smile. "I thought I would feel different once it was over. I thought I could come back to life."
"How do you come back to life when you heart died with her?"
Why I asked such a question, I didn't know.
Probably because you know what it's like to wear a hole where your heart had been.
Dean shook his head, staring off into the distance. "I don't know. I'm not sure that I can. I'm not even sure if I really want to."
"This is why love is a death sentence," I choked out bitterly. "It guarantees nothing but pain."
Dean turned to study me intently until I finally had to look away. I dashed angrily at my tears and shoved the lock of blonde hair off my face.
"I'm probably not the best person to give advice considering what you've seen of me but I'll tell you this, Star," Dean said gently. "Love makes a mess of you—makes you strong but weak, brave but cowardly, happy but utterly vulnerable. It's a choice you have to make—the choice to be all those and be alright with it because love can't exist with only half of the things that make it whole. The ugly will always have to be part of the beautiful, Star, so don't short-change yourself just because you haven't realized that yet."
This time, it was me who talked. Without naming names, I told Dean about Julian, about our two worlds I couldn't reconcile and the bridge he'd built before I destroyed it.
Love made a mess of us, alright.
And maybe despite everything, Julian and I would still somehow rise up from the rubble.
The question was, would I just ruin it all over again?
There was only one way to find out.
I stood in the hotel bathroom to scrub the makeup off my face and remove the wig, tossing it into the trash along with the past it represented.
When Dean dropped me off, we said goodbye for real this time around.
I gave him a hug for the first and last time ever. "I wish you happy, Dean. We, screwed up ones, deserve it too—at least I hope we do."
I stared after his town car until it disappeared in the distance.
A light rain typically rare in California was starting to fall but something else made me shiver in my coat as I turned around to stare at the Tuscan-inspired mansion that loomed in front of me.
I would've never come here tonight under the usual circumstances.
But if I were to stop running, I had to turn around and take the bull by its horns and confront what I could of the past that wouldn't stop haunting me. This was the closest part of the past to me right now.
I took a deep breath and approached the large wrought-iron gates until I stopped in front of a security camera. I pressed the buzzer and waited for the camera to swing toward my direction.
"I'm here to see Gareth Walterson," I said in a loud, steady voice despite the rattling of my heart in my chest. "Tell him it's Star and that I'm going to wait out here until he comes out to talk to me."
I huddled against the massive stone gate post to block off some of the rain, wondering if I was destined to stay out here throughout the night, waiting for a man who might never come.
Give it a chance, Star. Don't walk away yet.
Gareth would probably never acknowledge me—and definitely not in his home or in front of his family. But I needed to talk to him tonight. I needed to empty parts of my heart so something new could live in there—something better than hate and resentment.
I heard footsteps and I stepped out from behind the gate post to see the tall silhouette of a man striding toward me.
"Come on. Better run inside before you get soaked," the man barked at me as the gate swung open.
I stared at his extended hand for a moment before dragging my eyes back to his face.
It was Gareth Walterson, his formidable scowl present on his face even as he stood there dressed in a dark gray robe over what looked like his pajamas.
I didn't make a move. I didn't really have a crystal clear plan when I asked Dean to drop me off here instead of Julian's townhouse.
"I just want to talk you," I told my father.
"We can talk inside," he said.
"But your family—"
"Won't be in our way," he interjected before sighing wearily, his gruffness softening just a little bit. "I'm not going to chase you away from here or leave you standing out in the rain, Star. I may not have been a good father to you at all but I'm not a cruel man—at least I hope I'm not."
I had no reason to trust my father—I'd known him very briefly and what I knew of him that limited period of time didn't recommend his character. But I wasn't here for a happy reunion. I was here for some answers. And maybe just a small amount of closure so I could stop living with so much hate inside of me. So I could breathe a little bit better and trust a little more than I was capable of right now.
I didn't take his hand but I nodded.
I followed him to the front door, looking around to see if we had any audience. It was late, probably almost ten at night, and there was no one in sight.
I started to relax as I followed him through the door but stopped dead in my tracks when I saw a woman at the bottom of the grand staircase.
Without having ever met her, I knew of Gareth's wife. Marina Vanderbilt-Walterson was a society darling even before she married my father. She was wealthy, beautiful and cultured—and I represented such an ugly stain of what might have seemed like her perfect marriage.
My spine shot up straight, my chin lifting defiantly as I returned her stare. She was in a silk robe as well, her face free of any makeup, her light brown hair tucked into a low bun. Even dressed down, she still looked like a regal queen—a stark contrast to Darla Matthews even before my mother's habits destroyed her beauty and vivacity.
Try something, I dare you.
I was one sneer away from lashing out in defense, my hands curled into fists on my side, but Marina upended me when she suddenly gave me a smile—a small one but a smile nonetheless.
"I brought down a robe just in case you needed it," she said as she walked toward us, extending the neatly-folded terry-cloth garment to me. I looked at it suspiciously for a long moment and she stood there and waited for me to complete my inspection. "If you want tea or something else warm to drink, let the kitchen know and they'll make it."
"Thanks," the word felt like teeth being pulled from me as I accepted the robe, still wary that it would go up in flames the moment I touched it.
Marina gave a satisfied nod before turning to her husband. "I'll leave you two to talk."
Gareth and I both stood and silently watched her ascend the stairs until she disappeared from sight. When I glanced at him, I saw that he was now looking at me, a slightly bemused expression on his face.
"What did you tell her?"
"The truth," he admitted with harsh exhalation of breath. His brows furrowed into a frown and he kneaded the space between them. "It's the only thing I can tell her if I want this to work. I didn't expect her to forgive me—I almost didn't want her to despite my relief because I felt that she had every right to be angry and punish me. But I think we either take for granted or fear too much what the people we love are capable of that we sometimes stay stuck with a secret we should've come clean with a long time ago."
I shivered at the reminder of his last sentence but it only drew his attention to my slightly damp trench coat. "Come on. My office is this way. Get out of that coat and put on the robe. I'm going to get us something warm to drink. Tea? Hot chocolate? Coffee?"
This wasn't what I expected when I came here tonight—my father asking me what I wanted to drink to chase off the chill. But then, I didn't really know what I was going to find when I got here.
"Hot chocolate, please." That more indulgent answer seemed to surprise both of us but Gareth smiled a little and nodded.
He left me in his office which was large, well-appointed and luxurious with plenty of wood and leather furnishings. It looked very much like the seat of a financially and socially influential man—a man I had trouble reconciling with the one I saw carry Hailey in his arms or the one currently in the kitchen making me a cup of hot chocolate.
I took off my coat and quickly put the robe on before Gareth could walk in on me in my costume. I came here to get some answers, and maybe offer some of my own, but I didn't think tonight was the night we both told each other our entire life stories, if that was even a remote possibility in the future.
There was a gentle rap on the door a few seconds before it opened and Gareth came in with a small tray in his hands with two steaming mugs on it.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked as he set down the tray on his desk. He handed me one mug and while it didn't have marshmallows in it like whenever Julian would make me one, it still felt warm and comforting.
"I'm fine," I told him as I watched him take a seat on one of the two armchairs in front of his desk. He motioned for me to take the other chair but I didn't move, wanting some sort of physical advantage from him.
I stared into the steaming mug, breathing in the sweet scent of chocolate and trying to calm the dizzying thoughts in my head so I could start somewhere.
"Star?"
I looked up at his prompt and narrowed my eyes slightly. "Do you know why I'm here?"
Gareth shook his head. "I think I'm going to let you tell me this time. The last time I assumed what you were here for, I heaped all kinds of accusations over your head. So I'll sit here and wait for you tell me."
I could see the humor but I couldn't manage a smile. "Trying not to repeat your mistakes, I see. And speaking of mistakes, I'm assuming you don't have another illegitimate child like me somewhere out there."
He winced. "That's a fair shot, I guess, but no. You and Hailey are my only two children."
To be grouped with Hailey even in just a sentence had an odd effect. To be referred to as one of his children had an even odder one.
"And no, you're not a mistake," Gareth added. "Having an affair with Darla was a mistake. It was a difficult time in my marriage that I only made worse by my actions but you had no part in that decision, Star. The fault in all of that lies at my door."
I arched a brow and snorted in disbelief because a truth I'd known for nineteen years didn't change just like that. "It's hard to buy that when you'd spent nineteen years throwing money at me hoping I'd happily stay as a mistake that no one knows about. If you ever thought of me as your own child and not just the careless consequence of a reckless affair, I never saw any evidence of it."
I gave him credit for not looking away. Building tolerance for self-shame might really run in our blood.
"That was because for the longest time I didn't realize any of what I just told you," he admitted. "That in trying to distance myself from my mistakes, I was punishing you. And I'm sorry for that, Star."
He leaned forward without breaking his gaze away, his eyes clearly shining with remorse. "I'm sorry that I didn't see you separately from that part of my life I'd badly wanted to forget. That buried under all my mistakes was a daughter who deserved far more from me that what I'd given her."
I swallowed hard. "And when did you realize all of that?"
"Not long after Hailey's first overdose about a year ago," he said with a shaky sigh, his lips pressing together as if he was trying to hold it in. "I asked myself what kind of father I had been to her. I asked myself what else I haven't done for her. And in tallying all the things I did for her, I realized that on your column, I hadn't done a damn thing other than pay for your support. If a daughter of mine I'd cherished and given everything to could find herself in such a dire situation, what's stopping another daughter I'd abandoned from being in the same boat, or worse?"
Nothing. I'd been on that boat as it burned, capsized and sank to the bottom of the ocean.
"So why did you turn me away when I came to you?" I asked, a fresh surge of anger rushing through me at the reminder of the day he'd spurned me like a piece of garbage.
His throat worked with his effort at control , his brows pulling in together into a deep frown. "I was angry at that time. You came to see me shortly after Darla called me to argue about getting more money. I knew she was getting worse and with you being eighteen, I thought that maybe we could do it another way. I'd planned to come down and talk to you. To see what you planned for the future and how I could support you on it. I didn't want to involve your mother anymore. The few times I'd asked over the years if I could see you, she'd always told me that you hated me. That you never wanted to see me and that you were only putting up with me for the money. It didn't surprise me that you'd feel that way about me so I never questioned it. I paid the money and let it go. But I thought once you were old enough, you'd understand better. That despite your anger, you'd see the advantages in letting me help you."
"Even when you thought I was into all kinds of shit?" I pointed out casually before taking a sip of the hot chocolate.
His expression grew grimmer. "When your mother called to ask for more money and I told her no, she told me how bad off you were. She told me you were way in with a bad crowd. That you were deep into the habit. That you traded body and soul for a fix. It appalled me—even more when it hit me that I may have funded you into this mess. I cut you off like I did Hailey thinking it would at least mitigate the problem—at least until I found a way to resolve it."
I mentally cursed my mother and her unfailing capability to only serve her own self-interest. Yes, she hardly thought clearly anymore these days but she just couldn't leave us out of her own hell. But that didn't excuse my father.
"So your resolution was to do nothing about it for almost an entire year," I said acidly. "Because that's all I've seen from you this whole time—nothing."
He rubbed his jaw and shook his head before glancing up the ceiling as if there were answers there. "I don't want you to think that this was how she wanted this to happen. She didn't want to lie to you but I asked her to help me do this. I thought it was the only way to help you until you could bear to face me again after everything I've done."
I stiffened. "What are you talking about?"
"My mother came to me after you confronted her," Gareth confessed, the lines around his eyes deepening as he squinted. "She demanded if it was all true. I didn't lie. She was furious to learn that not only did I break my vows and abandoned my daughter, I also sent her back to her horrible life when I got a rare second chance to make things right. She told me the truth about you, Star—of what piece of it you've at least told her. And I knew that you'd never forgive me for my harsh actions that day. I knew you would never listen to me or let me help you. So I let my mother do all the helping. I stood back and waited for a time when I might have another chance at making it right with you myself."
Tears stung at my eyes—why, I wasn't sure. Probably at Selene's deception or maybe my father's admission that I just couldn't accept to be true because I couldn't have possibly been wrong about him. I came here tonight looking for answers—not to redeem a father I'd been prepared to hate for the rest of my life. I came here to absolve myself a little from a long sentence of fearing everything good in my life and doing my best to sabotage it. I came here to deal with the ugliness of my life so I could enjoy the other beautiful aspects of it—not to mash them up into an even bigger mental clusterfuck of the truth and lies and the in-betweens.
"You're lying," I croaked, sharply gasping in a breath to clear the sob out of my chest before it could escape me. "Whatever I was able to take, I took on my own—without your help, without your pity. You turned your back on me and I carried on. I didn't survive on your charity like I never have my entire life!"
Gareth's jaw trembled and I could see the glimmer of tears of in his eyes. "I don't think I'm strong enough to know the kind of things mine and your mother's neglect had forced you to do, Star, but you're right. I was only able to help you again when I thought I'd lost all chance because you blackmailed your way into my mother's radar. You survived on your own, taking whatever was necessary to come out ahead. You're brave and ruthless and too damned tough because you had to be. And I wish to God that life never made it necessary for you to be all these things but it did. I take no credit for your incredible strength, Star. I'm proud of you for it but it guts me to know how much it had cost you because one look at you and I can tell that it was a high price indeed."
I set the cup of hot chocolate down before I could drop it. Breathing in deeply, I turned around and walked to a window, trying to fortify myself through this purging of the past.
I paid more for every dollar I'd earned all these years—its weight as heavy as the ball and chain around my ankles that kept me bound to the past no matter how far I ran.
I paid for my survival, my indomitable strength and my frail grasp at freedom with my soul, with the last of my innocence—a tragic bargain from where I stood now after all these years.
You're left to hold the bag, after all.
I buried my face in my hands as tears started to course down my cheeks.
I said nothing.
I couldn't find any words.
I couldn't summon the strength to hold up the armor anymore.
I was simply too fucking exhausted.
I didn't look up when my father came up to me. I didn't say or do anything as he gently collected me in his arms, soothingly murmuring my name through the sounds of my sobs.
Redemption for either of us still loomed a great distance away. It would take time to heal.
It would take time to forgive ourselves, to forgive each other, to forgive everyone else.
Most of all, it would take time for those we'd hurt to forgive us.
We could only wait and pray that we weren't too late yet.
***
So, what do you guys think?
I know, this one really drove the knife deep. But I think Star had to go this far to really find out for herself just how much her actions would cost her and whether it's a price she can pay.
We're winding down to the last few chapters of the story so I hope you stick around for that.
This story has been a bit of a journey to write. Hope to see you till the end!
XOXO!
-Ninya
P.S. Love this song for this chapter. I think it's perfect for Star. She might have an unusual amount of strength and detachment but she's still human.
♪♪♪ Chapter Soundtrack: Human by Christina Perri ♪♪♪
I can hold my breath
I can bite my tongue
I can stay awake for days
If that's what you want
Be your number one
I can fake a smile
I can force a laugh
I can dance and play the part
If that's what you ask
Give you all I am
I can do it
I can do it
I can do it
But I'm only human
And I bleed when I fall down
I'm only human
And I crash and I break down
Your words in my head, knives in my heart
You build me up and then I fall apart
'Cause I'm only human
I can turn it on
Be a good machine
I can hold the weight of worlds
If that's what you need
Be your everything
I can do it
I can do it
I'll get through it
But I'm only human
And I bleed when I fall down
I'm only human
And I crash and I break down
Your words in my head, knives in my heart
You build me up and then I fall apart
'Cause I'm only human