Never Let You Go (Never #2)

by Monica Murphy

  Hell, I was a virgin myself, not that anyone would be able to tell since I’m a guy. But I haven’t had sex yet. I’d messed around a little bit but nothing serious. And I would never hurt a girl, especially one as young as Katie. I wasn’t like my dad.

  I clenched my hands into fists. I would never be like my dad.

  Ever.

  “How much farther?” Katie whined.

  I whirled around to find her dragging along, walking slow, the too-big flip-flops nearly sliding off her feet. She looked exhausted. Dark circles were heavy under her eyes and she had my sweatshirt on, which completely swallowed her up. She looked even younger than when I’d first seen her.

  “Not much longer,” I reassured her, wishing I knew for sure that I was doing the right thing. This could all backfire in my face, and then where would I be? What would happen to me? Would I end up going to jail like my old man? Because he was going, there was no doubt in my mind. And the police were going to lock him up for a long-ass time.

  He didn’t deserve any less.

  We came to an intersection and had to wait for the light to change. Katie stood beside me, shivering even though the night air wasn’t that cold. I took her hand and held it, giving her fingers a squeeze. She smiled up at me, her eyes filled with so much sadness, but a hint of gratitude, too. Gratitude that was all for me.

  “My feet hurt. I’m so tired,” she whispered. “I know all I’ve done is complain and I’m—I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize.” Her complaining had driven me crazy a couple of times, but I’d brushed it off. I couldn’t be mad at her, not after what she’d gone through.

  “I want to thank you, Will,” she said, her voice so tiny I could barely hear her. “You saved my life.”

  “No, I did—”

  She cut me off, squeezing my hand extra hard. “Yeah, you did. He would’ve killed me. I know he would’ve. You know it, too.”

  The shiver that moved through me had nothing to do with the breeze that just washed over us and everything to do with understanding that what Katie said was true.

  It scared me, the possibility of what my father might have done to her. Would he have murdered her? Dumped her body where it couldn’t be found? I most likely saved her life.

  The enormity of what I’d just done almost sent me to my knees.

  “So, Will.” Lisa clasps her hands in front of her, her elbows propped on the chair’s armrests. “Tell us your thoughts when you first found Katie in the shed in the backyard of your house.”

  I go still, not sure how I should answer. Talk about diving right in. I knew she’d ask this, so you’d think I’d be prepared, but . . .

  I’m not.

  “Shocked,” I say slowly. “At first I thought I was seeing things. Finding her there scared me and I . . .” My voice drifts and I swallow hard. This is the most difficult part for me to admit. I’m not proud of what I did. “I ran. I left her there.”

  I can feel Katie’s gaze on me but I can’t look at her. The guilt I still feel for leaving her when I should have done something at that very moment hurts. Negates the hero business Katie’s always trying to put on me. It’s why I’m so uncomfortable when she does praise me for saving her life. I got lucky. So did she. If I’d gone back to that shed the next day and she wasn’t there?

  I don’t know if I ever could have forgiven myself.

  “Why did you leave her?”

  “I was just a kid. Fifteen years old, a messed-up kid. I didn’t know how to act, didn’t know what the hell to do. I was so afraid my dad would be mad at me if he knew that I found her. I’d get in trouble. I was always in trouble.” It sounds completely fucked up, because guess what? It was fucked up, living in my house. Dealing with my dad. More than anything, I was scared that if he knew what I’d found, he’d lock me up in that shed, too. Make me do things I didn’t want to, like watch him with . . . Katie.

  Or worse, force me to do something with her. Hell, I didn’t know the depths of his depravity. I still don’t understand how he turned into such a complete monster, or when exactly it happened.

  “But you went back,” Lisa urges, her gaze going to Katie before returning to me. “You rescued her.”

  “I went back and told her I was going to rescue her,” I amend. “I had to do some preparation first. Get some things for Katie. Make sure my dad wasn’t around. I didn’t want him to catch us because I knew if he did, the both of us—we probably wouldn’t have survived.” I didn’t realize it then, but I do now. I’m pretty certain he would have killed us both if he caught us.

  I also remember how mad Katie had been at me for leaving her. She didn’t believe I’d ever come back. Not that I could blame her. But I did go back for her.

  And I always would. No matter what.

  “So you escaped, took her to the police station, where you fully planned on dropping her off and then leaving.” The look on Lisa’s face is incredulous. “Why would you do such a thing? Just . . . leave her there without trying to save yourself? That was your chance to escape, too.”

  Katie had been mad at me about that, too. No one can understand why I tried to run, not even me. “I didn’t know any better,” I admit. “My life . . . with my dad wasn’t normal, but it was the only thing I knew. It was my normal. I didn’t want to lose it.”

  “It wasn’t necessarily a good life, though. Was it?”

  I shake my head, wishing she would stop questioning me. Isn’t it Katie’s turn yet? “It was awful.”

  “Did he abuse you?”

  I nod, not willing to give voice to the numerous things he’d done to me.

  “But you didn’t want to leave him.” Lisa’s voice is flat.

  “It’s hard to leave the only thing you know,” Katie says, her voice soft but edged with steel. Look at her, running to my defense. Though really, she’s always had to defend me to the press, to the police. This is nothing new for her.

  And I’m guessing she doesn’t like Lisa’s line of questioning.

  Lisa barely looks at Katie. “So you were scared of the unknown.”

  I shrug, feeling helpless. “Yeah.” What the hell does this have to do with anything?

  “As you know, I spoke with your father. We met a few times and I have hours of footage that I was unable to use for the final interview.” She offers a small smile. “He wanted me to share something with you in particular, privately. This won’t air. I promise.” She glances up at one of the cameramen. “Shut it off.”

  The cameras click off and I stare apprehensively at the television screen sitting on a stand just beyond Lisa. Like magic, the TV turns on and there’s my father, smiling hopefully for the camera.

  I grip the armrests so tight my hands ache.

  “Son, I hope you can listen to my message with an open mind and heart. I want to apologize for the hell I’ve put you through. And for the hell I will continue to put you through, because it’s never going to end. It’s not fair and I understand that, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I just hope you realize that everything I do and say is not just for you but also for me. I have my own story, my own version of events. Whether you choose to remember those particular details or not, that’s up to you. But I want you to know this up front—I love you. I hope that someday we can see each other again, face-to-face. If that moment never comes, then I hope this message is good enough for the both of us.”

  The TV goes black.

  Disgust churns in my gut, makes me nauseous. He didn’t say much, but it was enough. I have no idea what he’s referring to, but it can’t be good.

  “You look upset,” Lisa says softly. The cameras are back on, recording us. “What was it about your father’s message that bothered you the most?”

  “He’ll twist the truth to make himself look better,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m sure he’s said some things to you that make me look like a monster, just like him.”

  Lisa says nothing and I blow out a harsh breath.

  “He doesn’
t love me. He doesn’t know what love means,” I mutter, keeping my head averted so I don’t have to look Lisa in the eye. This is getting way too personal. If she uses this as part of her interview I’m going to be pissed. Not that I have a choice. I’m the dumbass who agreed to this.

  “He said that you were involved in the kidnapping and rape of Katherine Watts,” Lisa starts to say, but Katie leaps to her feet, her body stiff, her eyes blazing.

  “That’s a lie,” Katie all but snarls. “Will was nothing but kind to me. He took care of me when no one else would.” She tears the little black mic from the neckline of her dress and tosses it onto her empty chair. “I’m leaving. I won’t just sit here and let you spread these vicious lies.”

  I stand and grab Katie’s arm, halting her from storming off. Our gazes meet, hers full of so much fury and rage I almost let her go.

  But all that fury and rage isn’t aimed at me. It’s mostly for my father. And Lisa.

  “Are you done here, too?” Lisa asks me sweetly. “I understand if you both want to go.”

  This went nothing like I thought it would. I figured Lisa would put together something more like a reunion piece. Katie and me reminiscing over old times, though that isn’t quite how I would phrase it. Not that I want to wax nostalgic about one of the most horrific experiences of my life . . .

  “I’m done,” Katie says with finality, her voice flat as she gives Lisa one last dismissive glance. She lifts her gaze to mine. “Are you?”

  Slowly I nod, releasing my hold on her. “You know we’re just going round and round in circles, right?” I ask Lisa. “This will never end the way you or the rest of the media or even my father wants it to. You’re all looking for something that’s not there.”

  “Your father says it’s there,” Lisa says coldly, crossing her arms in front of her. She’s pissed that we’re leaving. I really couldn’t care less.

  “Who are you going to believe? A convicted murderer sitting on death row or me?” I tug my microphone off and toss it on my chair like Katie just did.

  “He may be the convicted murderer, but he has nothing to lose. He’s already in prison. You, on the other hand, do.” Lisa arches a brow, silently daring me to challenge her. “You have everything to lose, Will. Don’t forget, the truth will set you free.”

  I don’t say another word. I can’t. All I can see is black. So much fucking black as the anger fills me, slow and steady, my hands curling into fists, my mind full of nothing but the need to lash out. With my words. My hands. With everything I’ve got.

  But I do none of that. I can’t. Unlike my father, I have control.

  Instead, I walk away, never looking back, not even waiting for Katie. The need to be alone is too powerful to ignore. I exit the building, by some miracle finding the same hired car that brought me here idling by the curb. I climb into the backseat, slamming the door behind me.

  “Get me the hell out of here,” I mutter, leaning my head back against the seat and closing my eyes. I scrub a hand over my face, Lisa’s words running through my head again and again, like a taunt.

  Like a dare.

  “Back to the hotel, sir?”

  “That works,” I say, sounding exhausted even to my own ears. I need a drink. A nap. Or maybe something to hit so I can get rid of all of this built-up frustration within me. There’s a gym in the hotel. If they have a punching bag, I plan on beating the hell out of it for as long as I can stand to.

  More than anything I need Katie. We need to talk about that fucked-up interview with Lisa. What my father said about me. I have no idea what her message from him was like, but I can’t imagine it was any good.

  How that asshole is still able to reach into our lives and stir this shit up, I’m not sure. But I can’t live like this. Not any longer. I’m done talking about him and what he did to us. Talking to Lisa Swanson only gives her more rope to hang me with. I haven’t talked to anyone in years, since I was a kid and this first happened, and the moment I do, it immediately bites me in the ass.

  We need to move on, Katie and I. But how can we when our trauma is what brought us together in the first place? My father is the tether that binds us to each other. Will he also be the one who keeps us apart?

  Breathing in deeply, I glare out the window, watching the city pass by. I need some time before I can talk to Katie. Time to calm the seething rage inside of me. Because it seethes.

  And I don’t want her to see me like this.

  Ever.

  My texts to Will/Ethan/whatever I should call him go unanswered. After the fourth one I give up, not wanting to be a nag. Not willing to be one of those crazed girls who never leave their man alone.

  Not that I believe he’s my man. Whatever we have, I can’t even begin to describe it anymore. It’s confusing. A bit of a mess.

  Fine, it’s a total mess.

  The other thing that turned into a total mess? That interview we just did with Lisa. Talk about a waste of our time—and Lisa’s. I’m scared to see what will air tomorrow. To say it will be nothing short of a total disaster is probably being kind.

  She tried to talk to me before I left. Tried to dig for more information on Will and what happened during my time with him. Her gaze was sharp, her words succinct. She wanted to know if I was being truthful with myself, or if I’d immersed myself in some sort of hero-worship complex over Will.

  Immediately offended, I walked out much like he did . . .

  And haven’t seen him since.

  Restless, I pace around the hotel room, chewing on my thumbnail, answering a text from my sister when she asks what I’m up to and if I want to come spend the weekend with her. She has no idea I’m in San Francisco and I’m not about to tell her. I also really don’t want to hang out with her and her boyfriend for two days. I make the excuse that I have schoolwork to catch up on and decline.

  Thank God.

  I change out of my tights and dress, putting on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, throwing on my favorite black cardigan over it. I’m hungry. Nerves killed my appetite earlier, so now I’m starving. I’d love to go out for dinner—San Francisco has some of the best restaurants—but I’m not about to go out alone.

  Rummaging around the desk, I find the room service menu and am reading over my options when my phone dings, letting me know I have a text message. I pull my phone out of my sweater pocket and check who it’s from.

  Ethan.

  Sorry I took off. I needed some time alone.

  I bite my lower lip, contemplating how to answer when another text comes through.

  Lisa pissed me off. Worked out my frustration by going to the gym here in the hotel.

  Relief floods me. As silly as I know it is, I worried he might have been mad at me. Worse, I was afraid he’d left San Francisco for good. Not that I believe he would ditch me, but I wasn’t sure. Do I even know the real him? Were those glimpses he’s shown me for real? Or him playing at being what he thought I wanted?

  My phone dings yet again.

  I’m in my room. Just took a shower. Do you have dinner plans? Want to go somewhere?

  Yes, yes, yes. I want to, but I don’t want to appear too eager. Which is stupid. We’re beyond playing games, aren’t we?

  I’d love to go to dinner. I’m starving.

  Me too. Do you need time to get ready?

  I’m already grabbing my white Converse sneakers to slip on and I hurriedly text him my answer.

  Ready now. Want to come to my room to pick me up? I’m in 926.

  Be there in a few.

  I dash into the bathroom, my untied shoelaces flying around my feet as I finger-comb my hair, then run my fingers underneath my eyes, removing any eyeliner or mascara smudges. I grab a lip gloss out of my open makeup bag and slick it on my lips, taking a step back to see if I look okay.

  What does he see in me? The poor little girl who still needs to be rescued? Or does he see me as a woman, the woman I am today? Considering how intimate we became in such a short amount of time,
I have to assume he sees me as a woman. But I’m guessing the line is blurred for him, and now that I know Ethan is also Will, the line has become completely blurred for me as well.

  Seeing him at the studio looking so different yet the same, it was easy to fall into this . . . surreal way of thinking. Who I had in front of me, and then beside me, wasn’t Ethan at all. It was Will.

  It sounds completely crazy but the transformation was there, at least in my head. Maybe I’m doing this to cope. Maybe I really am going crazy. Right after everything happened, my parents wanted to put me on antidepressants. There’s no denying that I was depressed. But even at that young of an age, I didn’t want to be medicated. My head was already deeply submersed in a fog. I didn’t think I needed to add to it.

  Though I’m thinking if I keep mixing the two sides of Ethan/Will, I might need to start taking some sort of medication to keep me steeped in reality. Or perhaps up my therapy with Sheila . . .

  A knock sounds and I go to the door, my pace slowing as I take a deep breath and paste a smile on my face when I turn the handle and open it. He’s standing in the doorway, wearing jeans and an open black flannel button-down shirt, a white T-shirt beneath it. His hair is damp, curling around his neck and ears, and he’s wearing his glasses once more, five o’clock shadow already appearing on his cheeks. He doesn’t smile in return, but his gaze roves over me almost hungrily.

  An answering hunger throbs in my blood and I clutch the door handle tightly, almost afraid to let go. “Hi.”

  “Hey.” He practically glowers, but it’s a good look for him. Reminding me of the sullen Will of my youth. The boy who didn’t want to help, but couldn’t stop himself from saving me anyway. “You ready?”