She shakes her head. “I’m eighteen. I can’t just leave home because it’s difficult.”
“Why not?”
“Because my father needs me.”
“He’ll survive.”
“And if he doesn’t?” she demands.
“You can’t save his ass every time,” I tell her. “Some of the men he’s involved with… They’re not the negotiating type. I don’t want you to be in the middle of that shit when they eventually come to collect. They’re not all as nice as me.”
“Why do you even care?” she flares up suddenly.
I hesitate. This is the first question she’s asked me that I don’t have an immediate answer to.
“Well?”
Two can play at that game.
“Why did you come here with me?” I shoot back. When she falters, I add, “Am I the only one capable of telling the truth?”
She takes the bait, her eyes flashing to mine in a burst of blue fire.
“Fine. You wanna know why I came out here with you?” she spits like she hates herself for how true this feels. “It’s because there’s something about you that makes me feel like anything’s possible. And for just a few hours, I wanted to believe that I could leave. That I could run away and be someone else, with someone else and no one would notice. No one would care.”
I smile at her softly. Full of understanding. Full of empathy.
She averts her gaze immediately.
I can tell from her face that she hadn’t planned on being that honest.
“I’m sure your father wants to see you happy,” I tell her gently.
She sighs. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know sometimes,” she says. “If he really wanted me to be happy, he would have stopped gambling a long time ago. He wouldn’t insist on getting involved with men who keep threatening his life. Or mine.”
“All good points.”
She looks up at me and her jaw juts out a little.
“He’s not a bad man,” she says suddenly, like she doesn’t want me to get the wrong impression of her father. “He’s just… He’s a weak man.”
“Which has forced you to be strong for the both of you.”
She looks out over the city. There are lights everywhere. So much so that they blot out the stars completely.
None of it compares with her, though.
Not the skyline.
Not the stars.
Not the fairy lights that twinkle above us like diamonds suspended in the air.
“You could leave,” I tell her again. “You could.”
Slowly, I reach out and take her hand, our fingers winding together.
“I can’t leave,” she whispers. “Not ever.”