Page 50 of Unlocking Ruin

A shiver runs down my spine as we step into the sitting room. The view of the fjords steals my attention. “Its a nice view,” I mutter.

“It is,” he replies in a flat tone.

I narrow my eyes and watch him approach the fireplace. Why did my comment about the view bother him?

I watch as he bends down, shoving paper deep into the stacked logs. His fingers tremble when he strikes the match and the flame appears, but he forces himself to hold it until the paper lights.

“If you’re scared of the fire, why light it?” I ask.

He throws the match into the fire and clenches his hand. “You noticed?”

“I’ve seen you tremble twice when you look into the flames.”

“I have to conquer my fears head-on,” he says, in a quiet, careful tone.

He coughs lightly and straightens his shoulders. “Are you ready?” he asks warily, returning the matchbox to the mantle’s surface. He heads to his usual couch spot, directly opposite mine, and then sits down.

I nod.

“When you were a teenager, Frank got into his first round of gambling debt,” Steffen begins. His voice is different tonight. Heavier, like tonight’s facts will test me more than yesterday’s did. “Having no other option, your mom contacted your biological father for money. Your dad ordered a DNA test to confirm⁠—”

“I never got a DNA test.”

“Your mom never took you to the doctor when you were a teenager, around seventeen?” he rebuts, clearly knowing the facts.

Reaching out, I grab the laptop. He left it in the same spot I put it last night. I open the file folder and then look at the one labeled DNA analysis. It’s a genetic match.

“So I was just a bank account, a safety net,” I whisper. My head drops. Half-moon shapes appear on the pad of my thumb as I dig the nail of my index finger into it.

“Do you think what I did to my mom and Frank was wrong?” I speak impulsively. I lift my index finger and watch the skin bloom red, then flatten again.

Steffen’s eyes flicker as he attempts to hide the burgeoning rage within them. “What they forced you to do was wrong, Rylan. They manipulated you as a child, forced you to hack and steal money, and then they left you behind as the scapegoat.”

“But my mom was just doing what was done to her. She was used, so she used me. Maybe she didn’t know better.”

“You’re looking for a way to clear her name,” Steffen says, as if he knows my thoughts.

“Your mom is supposed to love you unconditionally,” I argue. “I used to wonder why she looked at me with such a sour expression. I was a noose around her neck.”

“Her decisions were her noose, Rylan, not you,” he says. His body shifts forward to the edge of the couch, as if he wants to leap from it and catch me.

I shake my head. I can handle this alone. I don’t need his touch to soothe me… yet.

He shifts back.

When life got too hard, too lonely, too fucking disgusting… that was when I went to clubs and picked up a guy for the night. I glance at Steffen. Can he help erase it, or will sleeping with him only add more paint to my canvas?

Clearing my throat I ask, “What did my dad do once he found out I existed?”

Did he want me?

Of course not; if he were so rich and powerful, he would have saved me from that house.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I let out a sigh and look down. “Do I emit some toxic radiation that sickens people, forces them to push me away as they flee from me?”

Oh, shit, I said that out loud. This is why you need a filter, Rylan. “Don’t reply to that; I loathe fucking pity parties.”

“Sometimes they are warranted. It’s the only way to heal.”