Going into a home where I’m unwelcome is not going to be fun. I should be going back to my own home considering that’s the place where my father will be. Except, he thinks I boarded that plane because when I said goodbye to him, I checked my bags and got my ticket. But now, I’m in a rental car sitting across the road from their house contemplating life and how utterly stupid I am.

I remember a book I read once. It was about a girl that cried a lot over a boy. Over the silliest things. Things like she had to go to meet his friends, or that he didn’t say he loved her on the first date. I rolled my eyes so many times I lost count, but now, now I see it. I see why she was so invested. Maybe not to the extent that I’ll start crying at everything that happens, though. The only way he gets my tears is when he doesn’t know about them. When he takes my heart away from me, and I can’t seem to get a firm grasp on it or hold it back.

I watch from the car window. The sun is setting, and it’s falling dark fast. Toska leaves first, dressed in her work uniform. She doesn’t glance my way as she starts walking. She doesn’t even look at the car as she walks straight past me, but I see every part of her. Toska is lost in her cell and you can’t see what’s really inside. All you see is the simplicity of a redheaded girl with big green eyes, dressed like a normal person. There’s nothing out of the ordinary at all. But what you’re seeing is a lie. You see, you have to crack away the layers and dig deeper to see the inside of someone, and inside her is anything but pleasant. Everything about her is cracked and broken.

Inside me is broken as well. Everything’s like a puzzle that’s half-completed and needs to be finished, yet I have no one to finish it for me.

“Spying doesn’t suit you, Mouse.”

I jump so high my head almost hits the roof of my car. My hand flies to my heart as I turn my eyes toward the door of my car to see Syler leaning in and watching me.

“Fuck!” I say quietly, trying to calm my heartrate down.

“We did that, a lot of fucking actually. Then you left.” He steps back, so he isn’t leaning on the door anymore and then just stares at me. His eyes appear like they are searching for something, and his demeanor is anything but composed. Calming myself enough, I take a deep breath and manage to move to open the door. Sliding out of the car, I lean my back against the closed door. Syler is taller and towers over me but it doesn’t matter, I’m not stuck in the car now feeling vulnerable.

“You deserved that! Actually, you deserved a lot worse if we’re being honest.”

One side of his lip quirks up into a half-smile. “I’m liking the bite to your voice. Maybe we haven’t been so bad for you after all?”

I look past him and in the direction where Toska left. She’s gone now, but you never know with Toska, she could come back at any second.

“She doesn’t look beaten down,” I say to him.

After all, he did leave me to save her yet again.

“Oh, she is. But Toska doesn’t do pity. She covers it with makeup and clothes. Much like you cover your feelings with talk.” I laugh at him.

“You find that amusing?” he asks me as I go quiet.

“I find this whole thing ridiculously amusing. If I’m being honest with myself, this whole situation... you, her, me... it’s all a fucked-up story. One that should never have been written.”

He tucks his hands into his pockets as he watches me. “What if I wanted it written?”

I shake my head at him. “You’re as fucked as she is then.” I shrug my shoulders. “But then again, maybe you are, and I was just too blinded by the pages to tell.”

“You think our story is only for books?” He leans forward, the wind picks up, and his smell is blown my way. His scent is my downfall, and I could live off it if that were possible.

What is that smell anyway?

Possibly my kryptonite.

They should bottle that shit, and sell it as perfume.

“Maybe only for a horror story,” I reply.

His eyes hold mine, his stare intense. He’s thinking, he always does that when he’s deep in thought. Syler always used to think before he spoke, his words were used so carefully, but now he seems to tell me how it is. It should have been a sign then.

“I think you have errors on your pages. Maybe you need an editor to fix them, Mouse. I’m a damn good editor with the devil’s hands.”

“Those hands give me nothing but ellipses and question marks, Wolf.”

He smirks at my words. “You think I don’t see, but I see just as bright as the fucking cover page of a book, Mouse. I see you. It’s the words of that book that fuck with me. That make me second-guess everything. You are my story, and it’s one that I don’t want to be told. Can you not work that out?” His words cut deep, it’s the deepest he’s ever been with me, and it’s not even in words we both understand, it’s the words that we’re skirting that are the true words.

One word we both aren’t accustomed to.

Love.

“I need to get into your house,” I say, changing the subject. His head drops to the side as he notices I’ve stopped talking about us.

“What do you need in the house, Mouse?” His arms cross over his chest as he examines me with his eyes.

“I need the video.”

He turns then starts walking inside the house. I follow him in, stepping over the threshold of his front door. Nothing has changed, it's still exactly the same. He goes straight into her room then comes out with a small tape in his hand, handing it to me straight from his outstretched hand.

“Just like that? You didn’t even ask why?”

“Just like that, Mouse... just like that.”

I take it, slipping it into my jeans pocket then looking back up at him. His hand comes out and touches my neck. I instantly jump back, the memory too fresh of what Taj just did. No one is to touch me there.

“Give it back to him. I’ll deal with her.”

I nod my head. He must already know, and it doesn’t surprise me.

“Then tell him not to touch what’s mine again.” He steps closer, and I step back until I reach the front door, watching him as I go, making sure I put enough distance between us.

“You treat everything you own as well as you treat me?” I ask him just to be a smart ass.

“You’re special, Mouse. You’re a curveball and I’m trying to learn. It’s just, I’ve only started to figure you out.”

“So not just one you carry to a creek then dump there for your sister to strip naked and leave to die.” His eyes go wide. “Yeah, I remember it all.”

“Then you will remember that she threatened to kill herself... you or her. I’ve always chosen her, Mouse. Maybe not so much anymore.”

I didn’t know that, I can’t remember that part.

“I see... you didn’t hear it all, did you.”

My eyes land on him and I don’t blink just listen.

“Toska’s only done it with you. She cut her wrist. Did you see that? While you were in the car. I was so fucked up I didn’t even notice, Mouse. She was crying, asking me ‘why her’ then she cut both of them and started bleeding all over my seats. ‘You choose her or me’ she said. And at that moment, she was all I knew. You were, well, you. I had no idea what to do. I knew I’d find you, I knew I would. But I wasn’t ready to lose her.” His words knock me back even further. If I weren’t already away from him, they would have slammed into my heart and stopped it beating. Toska’s good at manipulation, she’s done it her whole life to Syler.

“She’s your sister,” I whisper, because it’s the only thing I can think of to say. “She needs help. Help you can’t give her.”

He nods his head. “Don’t you and I, though?”

“Possibly. But do we plan to go out every weekend chasing a high that includes killing those we fuck?”

“I only like to fuck you, Mouse.” I smirk at his words despite the situation. “You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”

“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.” I look behind me, to my rental, knowing I should leave before he ends up between my legs yet again. “I have to go, Syler.”

“I know, Mouse.”

Turning as I walk out, I attempt not to look back, but as I do, I find him standing at the door watching me get into my car, stalking me like the Wolf he is. My heart skips a beat as I get into my car and drive off.

Dialing Taj’s number, he answers on the first ring.

“Meet me at Ringo’s bar.” Then he hangs up.

Gazing into the rearview mirror, Syler’s house is out of sight, and my hands are sweating on the wheel. That was the most honest talk we’ve ever shared, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around exactly what he meant.

If he chooses me, would I even try?

The smartest thing would be to walk away.

But I’ve tried that several times and failed each time.

What’s the right answer?

It’s anyone’s guess.