“Grab a box?” he asked Tony while lifting one with the bag balanced on top. He caught Tony staring at the scabby nail marks in his wrists, his eyes pained. If he thought that was bad, he should see Sandy’s fucking neck.
“Why don’t you put that down?” Tony suggested.
“No thanks.”
He nudged past Tony and into the open space of their home. Tony hurried after him. The living room was empty as expected, but the kitchen was not. Amelia turned to face him. Todd’s eyes were drawn to her instantly as she set a pot onto the stove.
He dropped the box to the sofa and stared like an idiot. God, she was so fucking beautiful. Her midnight hair was straight, smooth, and so damn long now. Her big, dark eyes filled with uncertainty at the sight of him, and she seemed to lose track of what she was doing.
He strode over to the high counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. His palms settled on the cool surface, steadying him as his eyes ate her up against his will. His gaze slid slick over her every feature, every curve. He knew he was acting like a stoned creep, but maybe that’s just who he always should have been.
“Hey,” he said.
She gave a nervous, tight-lipped smile in response. He tracked every tiny movement of her kissable mouth. Her lips were as red as the smooth sweater she wore. He couldn’t help but wonder if her shirt was as soft as it looked. He wanted to wrap his arms around her to find out. To hug her as tight as her dark jeans hugged her legs.
“So, did you hear? I’m a catch. Go figure. Guess you lost out on a hot commodity. Sucks, huh?” he said with undue severity. He didn’t know why he was being such an ass. He was the one who ditched her-but he just couldn’t help it.
“There’s tequila in my room,” he mentioned. “Not a lot, but enough. How ‘bout you chug a liter, then we make out again.”
At the mention of their margarita-flavored first kiss, her hand clutched her necklace. Guilt consumed him at her defensive motion. In the few months since he’d seen her in Virginia, she’d changed. It was so blatantly obvious to him. Any hint of light and joy had bled from her face. The tiny smile lines that carved her cheeks had disappeared. Her eyes had hardened and saddened, aging her with defeat. When he’d first met her, she’d been in flux, a battle waging inside of her. Happiness versus loss. They’d fought for her heart, and he’d seen hope of happiness coming out on top. He’d seen the shift toward the light end of her personality spectrum. Now, it was as if there was no light left. It was all dark. All serious. All loss.
Amelia looked behind him to Tony, then hesitantly turned to the shopping bags on the counter and pulled out an onion.
Her loss bled into his mood. Her ache became more important than his own.
“What are we cooking?” he asked. He made a move to enter the kitchen, but her eyes cut back to him with firm warning. He stopped and inched a step away. Somehow, looking at her, he’d forgotten who he was, what he’d done, and what he was planning. Her familiar face had wiped away the past couple days, but her harsh eyes brought it all crashing back over him.
“We aren’t cooking anything. You’re going to sit down before you fall down.” Her words were clipped and stern, but her face was unreadable. He fucking hated that. Pain tightened in his chest, like his body was trying desperately to fill a gaping hole she’d just ripped into him.
“Whatever,” he grunted, turning away. He sat down on the sofa with his back to her and pressed a hand to his chest. That damn hole was still there. He could feel his heartbeat slam erratically through it. How could he still feel anything with all the crap in his system? He should be floating on a fucking cloud. He should be dead.
Sweat beaded on his brow. He leaned back, willing his heart to steady. Pain slowly began to subside. He noticed his box was gone, and Tony emerged from his room with empty arms. Damn jerk had put it back when he wasn’t looking.
Tony claimed the recliner. Apparently, they had a dispute coming at some point. He knew Tony wouldn’t let him leave without trying to talk him out of it. That was why he meant to be gone by the time he got back. Sneaky bastard had pulled one over on him.
He could feel Amelia’s presence behind him. Something about her always drew him in and made his buzzing thoughts relax, made him want to stay just to be close to her. Even when she looked at him so coldly. Even when she hurt him with just a glance. He knew he should just go. Aside from his bedding, his shit was packed. And that would only take two seconds, max. He had been ready to go… until he saw her. He was still leaving, just… later. He had time. Maybe wait out his possible heart attack.
The sounds of chopping and dicing began in the kitchen. He wanted to join in badly but shoved his hands through his hair instead, keeping his ass planted. He noticed Tony staring at him with a look of horror and followed his glance to his sliced wrist. Todd hadn’t bothered to bandage it. There was no point in that. It was an open, hacked gash trailing up his forearm from the wrist, partially scabbed in a black crust. It was obvious that he’d had trouble landing his glass blade just right, because the slice was chewed up and dug in, like he kept trying and failing in his aim. The skin around his attempt to murder himself was puffy and pink with infection.
Todd tried to ignore the look he was getting from Tony. Impossible. He scrubbed his hands down his face.
“Why didn’t you say that she was causing you problems?” Amelia’s voice was like a soft melody from the kitchen, so low that he could get away with not answering if he wanted. Unfortunately, he had never gotten the hang of ignoring Amelia.
“I didn’t think she was anymore,” he grudgingly answered, lowering his head to shield his face from Tony.
“You could have come to me. I helped Eric. I could help you too.” The sharp chop of her knife on the cutting board was a bold period at the end of her statement, solidifying her stance, as if it was ever in question.
“I didn’t… I don’t know,” he muttered in a defeated tone. “I didn’t want to involve you.”
She gave an angry hiss. “You and your cousin are so stubborn.”
That struck a nerve. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the odd layers of drugs he was under or his self-loathing attitude. Maybe it was the mere mention of the girl he had tried to kill.
“We’re stubborn?” he snapped, twisting on the sofa to glare back at her. “You wouldn’t even let me break up with you.”
“But you did anyway,” she stated through clenched teeth.
“To protect you,” he growled under his breath, but she heard.
Her face burned scarlet, a Pascarelli telltale sign of trouble. He’d never heard her yell before, but it was definitely coming.
“From Aurora?” she demanded, voice raised. Her knife dropped to the counter with a clatter. “I’m not afraid of her.”
“Well, maybe you should be afraid of me!” he burst out.
“Maybe I am!” she yelled back.
Her confession cut him open better than any blade could. It felt like the air had been punched from his lungs. Even thought disappeared without a trace. She feared him. Why the hell wouldn’t she? Everyone should. He’d felt Aurora take a hold of him. She was a goddamn pit bull, and with the grip she had… she’d never let go. I’ll never be free, his brain slowly realized.
“Do you like being her pet?” Amelia accused, sounding uncertain and disgusted. She winced, and her eyes welled with tears from the onion she’d been chopping.
He considered it. Did he? “Of course not,” he finally said, his words thick. Slow. Telling.
“Do you love her?”
His heart stopped beating and his lungs stopped breathing for a moment of shock. His answer came slowly. Breathlessly. Paralyzing in its truth. “I think I might.”
God help me, I think I might.
Amelia was silent. At his confession, he felt his body bleed of its drive. Of everything that kept him moving. “Todd… you can’t-”
“I know.” He stared hard at his hands and split wrist. “God help me,�
�� he uttered softly.
He could never survive a love like Aurora. This was the epitome of broken. Goddamn. He pounded his weary eyes with the heels of his hands.
He could sense Amelia’s hesitation like static in the air between them. She didn’t know what to make of him any more than he did.
“Let me help you,” Amelia said softly.
His face felt like it had been poked with needles. Hundreds of them hung from his skin. They pulled down. Heavy. Sagging. He swiped a hand across his face, clearing a path. He was tripping out. Bad. He stared at his hand, and it pulsed before him. Bloody. Not bloody. Bloody. Not bloody. He blinked hard.
“Todd?” Amelia called from down a long, dark hall.
The room rushed back in around him, filling the space, lighting the dark. “Huh?” he asked. He cautiously reached for and gripped the sofa cushion in both fists. The walls pulsed around him, inhaling and exhaling. In. Out. Tight. Free. The room would stop breathing around him at some point. He knew that. Wait it out. Sleep it off.
“I can help you,” Amelia offered again.
He gave a derisive snort. “I don’t think so. I’ve had enough fingers in my head for a lifetime. I don’t need you poking around in there too.”
“I don’t poke around. It’s not like that. Do you honestly think that I’d mess with you?” she growled.
His fists clenched. How could she ask such a thing? Did she seriously think that he thought that?
“The answer is no!” he roared at her. The room spun to the beat of his anger. “How stupid can you be? She wants you dead, Amelia! And she always gets what she wants.”
A knock came at the door, severing their horn-lock. It didn’t matter. His words weren’t convincing her to run for cover. And he was the stubborn one? Like hell.
Tony opened the door, and when Todd saw Sandy on the other side, every drop of blood in his body drained out of him. He went white in an instant. Eric was close behind; his eyes were armed missiles, focused on Todd. Eric wasn’t a concern. He never had been, but Sandy…
CHAPTER 30
COVERT TACTICS
“What the fuck? Are you fucking stupid? What the hell are you doing here?” Todd shot out angrily.
He stood from the sofa and staggered, standing lopsided, his hands curled into fists. I felt my heart stutter to a stop. No matter how many times I told myself that it wasn’t he who had attacked me, when his eyes found me in that hall, I froze. Eric’s grip on me tightened. I took three numb steps until I was inside, and Todd’s eyes narrowed.
Eric pushed past me, anger pulsing in his steps. I grabbed his hand, dragging him to a halt. “Eric, no,” I whispered.
Todd picked up on the threat that was rolling off of Eric in waves and stepped forward. “Do it. Hit me,” he taunted. His posture quickly shifted from the slouching loser persona he treated like a style, to something threatening. He postured before Eric, and Eric stepped up quickly.
Eric wasn’t one to puff out his chest and do some shoving to prove who was the man-he attacked instantly. He plowed toward Todd, and I clawed at his body, racing to get between them. I skittered to a stop in front of Eric and shoved his chest. He stopped moving, but his eyes were fixed on Todd.
“Don’t you dare,” I warned in a low, scratchy hiss, keeping my hand firmly planted on his chest. His muscles were firm and wound tight under my hand, ready to strike. His face was hard, eyes cold and promising blood. I gave him another little shove. “I swear to God, Eric. If you hurt him…” My sentence trailed off to an open-ended threat. I didn’t know what I would do, but I was certain that he wouldn’t want to find out. Neither did I. “Try to sympathize. You’ve both been there.”
At my warning, Eric struggled to rein in his temper. His eyes weren’t leaving Todd for an instant, but his arm curled protectively around my waist and pressed my body closer to his.
I turned slowly in his hold to face Todd, keeping my hand wrapped around Eric’s wrist, partly to keep him in check and partly to keep me feeling strong. Fear slithered through me as the black of Todd’s t-shirt came into view. I lifted my eyes to his, and the moment they met, he bolted to his room. The door slammed shut, and three of the four of us jumped in surprise. Eric didn’t flinch but continued to stare at the closed door, ready for anything.
My gaze flashed to Amelia. She was looking down, her hands in fists, fingers white from the pressure.
“Did you do your head thing on him?” I asked. She didn’t answer, just stared into space.
“Em?” Tony called out, and she jumped again.
“Huh?” she said, seeming like a ball of yarn tumbling down a staircase, unraveling before my eyes. It was sad to see someone I normally thought of as strong and confident being cut down so quickly.
I slowly repeated my question, and she looked to me. Her big eyes grew wider at the bruises on my face. My hand protectively reached for the scarf around my neck, adjusting the fabric to cover better, and my broken lower lip curled into my mouth. She slowly shook her head, busying herself in the kitchen with trembling hands.
We ate, chatted a little, cleaned up, and tried to get through to Todd. He never came out. Mimi even gave up eventually, stopping her persistent pawing at his door to curl up at Eric’s side on the sofa. I snuggled in on the other, taking advantage of how warm he always felt. Tony sat in a chair, looking preoccupied. His gaze kept flicking toward my scarf-wrapped neck and spilt lip. He had done the brotherly thing, checked my bruises and asked twenty times how I felt. I was so sick of that question, but it seemed to be out of his system for the time being.
Amelia was a million miles away. She sat on a chair, staring at the floor with a glass of red wine in hand. Her feet were tucked up under her, and she lounged against the armrest, swirling her wine and taking a small sip every so often. Though appearing elegant and graceful as always, she still hadn’t recovered from earlier. Her face was a pallid mask hiding what was going on inside.
Tony sat forward, huffing with agitation, and stared at Todd’s locked door.
“He’s probably asleep,” I said. “Or dead.”
I didn’t know why I said the last part, but Amelia didn’t seem to like it. She set her glass on the floor and walked into Tony’s bedroom.
Tony sighed and shook his head, staring down with his elbows on his knees. He studied the floor, eyes narrowing more and more with each passing second. His head jerked back up when Amelia emerged from his room with a paperclip, bending it until it was straight. Is she planning on picking the lock? I thought. My question was answered when I realized the door had a safety lock, a hole in the knob that could trigger the door to unlock if you were to say… stick a paperclip in it, like Amelia was currently doing.
The locked clicked, and she nudged the door open. The lights were off in his room, and she hesitated before slipping into the shadows. I started to follow but hung back. Todd wanted nothing more to do with me. Maybe I could have stopped this, changed his course somehow. I should have called. I should have checked up on him after… the incident. Why hadn’t I?
And Amelia… I had made an enemy out of her. I could see it in her eyes all night. It was the same look she’d given me when I chastised her for dating Mark. She avoided looking at me, and when she did, her pretty face was hard.
I hung in the doorway, leaning against the molding and hinges. Todd was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the end of his bed. A chill breeze rushed from his barely open window. I could see very little of his face in the shadows. He didn’t move as Amelia swept deeper into the room. She waved a hand in front of her face, dispersing the haze of drugs lingering in the air. There were stacks of moving boxes in the room.
Was he going somewhere?
Amelia slowly squatted at his side and placed the pads of her fingers against his throat, feeling for a pulse. He was so still, I held my breath, waiting for her reaction. She called his name softly. Todd took a deep breath at the sound of her voice but didn’t wake. She hesitated, reached for him, but
stopped her hand before touching his arm. Instead she hugged her knees, looking fragile in the thin silver light coming through the window. She watched him intently, a soft look crossing her face.
She reached for his hands and rolled his fist open, taking the glass pipe and lighter he was clutching. She hesitated at something, then lifted his hand and studied his wrist. The moon lit an eerie glow over a deep gash carved up his arm. I gasped at the sight. Amelia traced the mark with her fingertips. It wasn’t bleeding. It wasn’t fresh, but it was new, surrounded by marks I’d dug into his skin with my fingernails.
Amelia looked up at me. Her big dark eyes found me instantly, but I didn’t see the anger I had braced myself for. I saw sadness.
“Don’t worry, Sandy. I’m going to help him.”
She stood and looked to Tony and Eric where they were piled up behind me. “Bring him to the sofa.”
She moved through the door, feigning confidence. I could see the tremble in her hands. Tony and Eric looked questioningly to each other and then to me. I could read the words in their eyes. Bring him? Like wake him up? No one wanted to do that.
Eric stepped inside first and grabbed Todd’s limp form, hauling him up from the floor. Todd was a heavy sleeper when he was getting high. That had ended after rehab. Clearly, his insomnia was gone again. He didn’t even blink as Eric pulled him up. Todd’s heels glided over the wooden floor as Eric dragged him out. He didn’t even flinch. God, how much did you take, Todd? He was going to kill himself if this kept up. He would waste away and die of an overdose. And it was my fault.
Tears stung my eyes as I watched Eric and Tony settle Todd’s lifeless body onto the sofa, propping him up with a few pillows. Amelia searched the kitchen. She uncorked a bottle of olive oil and poured a generous amount into a small bowl.
I sat on the corner of the coffee table, watching her anxiously. “What happened to his arm?”
No one answered, and I tried not to look at his wrists. I’d really hurt him. He’d hurt me too, but he hadn’t really. Aurora had. But I had made him bleed.
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