your leg. Greg. I could see it in him—a little controlling, isn’t he? Possessive as hell. He knew what he had and he wasn’t about to let you get away. Your body language wasn’t aligned, though. Greg leaned into you, but you—ever so slightly—leaned away. He took your hand, and you let him. But then you unclasped your fingers a few minutes later. Maybe I was reading too much into it. Seeing what I wanted to see. But I suspect you’ve never loved him the way he loves you.
I’d already been watching you. I stalked you on social media. I knew where you lived. Your schedule at NYU, what time you crossed Washington Square, how you stayed in the library late to study on Wednesdays. How you were with him almost all weekend, most weekends. He was so—I don’t know—clean-cut, a journalism major like you. A runner. Your choice surprised me. I always figured you’d go for someone edgier, cooler. Someone more like your dad. But maybe it was stability you craved—after the trauma and violence of your near-abduction, the divorce, your mother’s early death. Your father, his issues with money, his mental and emotional absence—maybe you wanted the opposite. Greg—does he have a creative bone in his body?
That night I noticed you wore a skirt, your legs bare. A couple of times you reached down and rubbed at that scar, the place where Wolf bit your calf to the bone. You do this when you are anxious, nervous, thoughtful.
I didn’t expect you to recognize me. By the time I was twenty-two, I’d shot up to nearly six feet, weighed over 200 pounds, all muscle. When I wasn’t watching you, all I did at that point in my life was study and work out. I started practicing the martial arts during my freshman year in high school and by the time we met again, I was a skilled practitioner of kung fu and bukido. I was two years into my parkour training then. Unfortunately, I was always a little too big to ever achieve the agility one needs to leap around an urban landscape without breaking my neck. I gave this up, though those skills sometimes come in handy.
I wore my hair long, sported a full beard. I suppose I was hiding. From the world, from myself. In my center, there was a burning core of anger that no amount of therapy could extinguish. You would later claim that this was not so for you, but I could see it in you. In those blue pools you have for eyes, sunny on the surface, shadow beneath. It’s a theory I have: only those who embrace anger, who accept its raw power into their lives, survive extreme circumstances.
“Leave her alone,” urged Tess. She was always with me then. “Let her live her life.”
I never answered her in public. I’m not completely crazy, Lara. I get that other people can’t see her.
I stood near the back of the room and listened without really hearing. I just watched the back of your head, that silky raven hair, the way he dropped an arm around your shoulders—loving, protective. Yes, I realized, that’s what you wanted. Someone who protects you, someone who’s there. I was surprised because when we were little—before—you were always the fierce one. You were the defender, the protector. You stared down the bullies, comforted Tess when she’d been mean-girled. You stood up to Kreskey and Wolf that day at first. I guess that’s one of the things he took from you that day, that faith that you could stand up for yourself. You couldn’t, not that day. None of us could.
I stood near the back as the crowd filed out. You lingered near your father as he was mobbed by fans, signed piles of books. I watched as you kissed Greg goodbye. He would be off to the library to study, because that’s what he did on Thursday nights. A straight arrow.
I was surprised when I felt your eyes on me. Even more surprised when you started moving toward me. I’d have moved away, quickly blending into the crowd and disappearing as fast as possible. I had come only to see you, not to be seen by you. But I’d waited too long, lost in watching you. It was just me standing there alone against the wall.
“Hank?” you said.
I almost said no, no, you’re mistaken, sorry. But we had locked eyes and I’ll admit I just froze.