Saints (SAINTS #1) | ✓

47

THERE WERE MANY MEMORIES she had of Alan Lewis. She had seen him at his lowest and his highest during all these years, but the way he was now was new for her. The pride and arrogance which had interwoven itself in his veins like oxygen were gone now, replaced by a certain weariness he had had in her father's office as well. He looked younger now, the way he had been before all of this, when money had just been a word and love still real.

That didn't mean she had any pity for him though, especially now he had grabbed her wrist. She was just about to let her icy words roll off her tongue when he pushed open a supply closet beside them and pulled her in, the door clicking shut behind him. Though a lot of rooms in Gaia were bigger than necessary, this one seemed to be the exception, barely big enough for the two of them to fit inside. Jasmina leaned against the racks of paper towels and cleaning products behind her, watching him in the filtered light of the closet.

"You know better than to pull at me, Alan," she said.

"I wanted some privacy," he said, words hastily tumbling down his lips," this was the best thing I could think of."

"You never could think much," she said with a slow shake of her head, glancing away boredly," anyway, get this show on the road now, will you? I have things to do."

Alan parted his mouth and closed it again, looking baffled. "You're going to listen?"

"Was that not your intention?" she replied, raising an eyebrow," I can also leave."

"Yes, but I didn't expect you to accept it so easily," he stammered," I mean, I was about ready to block my eye from your Louboutins."

"Those are the perfect shoes to stab someone with, I suppose," Jasmina smiled sweetly," the red wouldn't even be visible on the bottoms."

Alan stiffened ever so slightly, like he was sure he was giving her ideas instead of helping his case. The poor fool - she didn't need any suggestions when it came to revenge plans. There was one reason she was still standing here and that wasn't just because of a faint curiosity; no, she had to confirm one of her suspicions. Her eyes wandered across his long sleeves, settling on his bare neck, but she didn't find anything just yet.

"What?" Alan said, hand shooting up to his neck, like he was protecting his skin from her burning gaze.

"I'm growing tired of the questions," she said," you have five seconds."

He knew better than to ask what would happen if he didn't comply, breathing in and out to prepare himself for talking. When he finally seemed to have composed himself he looked her in the eye, gaze made of stained glass and cloudy days. It reminded her of the day he had lost his mother, the way he had sat down and choked on his grief. Even then he hadn't been able to show his emotions well, but she supposed that wasn't needed in their world anyway.

"I know I have already apologized," he said," but I miss you, Jas. I miss your sickeningly sweet remarks and petty plans, the way you're overly dramatic and yet emotionless at the same time. I miss our relationship, our friendship, whatever we were before I ruined it all."

She didn't say anything, watching him without any change in her expression as he continued on.

"You know how my father is," he said softly," more than anyone else, you know. I felt so suffocated by him, by the way our marriage and relationship were determined before we could even realize what love was. There isn't any freedom in having to be the perfect fiancé all the time and I don't know, I -" He placed a hand on his neck, evading his gaze. "I love you, I do, but when Lena made a move I was wondering if perhaps it was love or if I just had been taught it was. It felt like I finally could let loose and so I did, even though I know it was wrong."