Redesigning Fate (Revive Series Book 1)

by A. M. Wilson

  The light blinks on my phone, indicating an awaiting message, but my stomach drops further when I open it to see it’s only an email from my boss, reminding me about a brief due Monday. I clear it from the notifications and drop my phone back to the table.

  Trying to find something to occupy my mind, I pour myself a glass of the awaiting wine and plop down on the couch, pull my legs beneath me, and flick on the television. I can’t watch more than a few minutes before snatching up my phone again and trying to call Elias. My heart sinks as it goes straight to voicemail. You’ve reached Elias Brooks. Leave a message. Blinking back the tears, I punch the end button.

  I can’t help but let my mind wander to the possibilities to why he’s late. I polish off my first glass of wine, pouring myself another. Taking the bottle and my now full glass to the couch, I plan to quell my nerves.

  What if he was in an accident?

  What if something is wrong?

  Maybe his phone died, and he has a flat tire. My mind drifts to thoughts of Travis and his threat to make me his again. The more I let myself think, the more frazzled I become. The clock is nearing eight, and I haven’t heard a single word from him.

  As I finish off another glass, my nerves are becoming less anxiety and more hurt and anger. He knew I had this night planned for him. He knew to be here at seven o’clock. He knew this meant a lot to me to do this for him. So why isn’t he here?

  After my third glass of wine, I end up calling Carly again while angrily pacing his living room floor.

  “Seriously, Carly, what the hell?”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Hun. But you should calm down before you hear him out. Maybe he had car trouble or a family emergency.”

  “Well, why is his phone off?” My hands flail animatedly, almost sloshing wine out of my glass clutched tightly in my fist.

  “Welcome to first world problems. Cell phones do die if they aren’t charged properly.” She’s resorting to being a smartass, and I don’t like it even though I know she’s only trying to help me calm down.

  “Who asked you?” I grumble, plopping down on the couch again. I hear her sigh through the phone, and I know I’m being rude to the wrong person. “I’m sorry, Carly. You’re right. I should wait to hear him out.”

  “Love you babe. I’m sure he has a good explanation to not being there right now. He’s not Travis. Not all men are douchebags.”

  As we hang up for the second time that night, all I feel is exhaustion. Having polished off half a bottle of wine in a relatively short amount of time, I’m feeling sluggish. I pull my legs back up on the couch and lie down, pulling the throw blanket over my body. My eyes close, the intention of resting them for only a few minutes, but I quickly drift off to sleep.

  The sound of a key scraping through the lock wakes me from my slumber. I bolt upright clinging the blanket to my chest, my eyes fighting to adjust to the dark room. The door swings open as a huge, bold silhouette fills the doorframe, stepping into the apartment. Fear grips me as my groggy mind drifts to paranoia, of Travis showing up here after having disposed of Elias. I mentally slap myself for being so irrational. He doesn’t seem to realize I am here, so I sit quietly and watch him move throughout the apartment, slowly, unhurried.

  The kitchen light flips on, momentarily blinding me. My eyelids slap closed from the assault of the brightness. Slowly cracking them open, I see Elias standing in the kitchen, taking in the sight of the food laid out on the table, everything as I left it. Shit, I didn’t even put the food away. What a waste that was.

  He lowers his head into his hands, scrubbing his palms against his eyes. When he releases his face, he raises his gaze to mine. Shock, replaced with guilt, etches into his features as he takes me in, a rumpled mess.

  “You’re still here?” His eyes wander to the half-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table next to me.

  “Why wouldn’t I still be here?” I stand up slowly, keeping the blanket clutched to myself for protection. “The better question is why you weren’t here. I tried to call, but your phone was off.”

  “I’m sorry, something came up.” He rubs his hand roughly across his forehead.

  “That’s it? Something came up? I was worried about you.” Confusion and hurt cross my face as I stare at him, willing him to answer me. I need him to answer me.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” He starts in my direction, crossing the kitchen quickly in a few strides. He starts unbuttoning his shirt as he passes.

  Okay, so he isn’t heading for me.

  “Elias. Where were you? What time is it even?” Knowing he probably won’t answer me, I pick my phone up off the table. 11:45? “Almost five hours late? And all you can say is ‘something came up?’” My arms are trembling as I try to remain calm, but hurt and anger are welling to the surface. As much as I try not to admit it to myself, I can’t deny that this is something Travis would have done to me. I step over towards Elias, where he continues to take his shirt off, trying to read his face for any sign of remorse or apology.

  “Seriously, Marlena. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m sorry I missed dinner.” I don’t miss the way he uses my formal name instead of the nickname he’d once given to me. He starts to slide his shirt from his shoulders when I notice something crimson on the cuff. Is that…

  “Is that blood on your sleeve?” I reach up to steady his arm, studying his face for any sign of injury. “Are you hurt?”

  He rips his arm out of my grasp, tearing off his shirt, and wadding it into a ball. He clenches it tightly in his fist.

  “I think you should go home tonight. I’m sorry, but I need to be alone,” he says through clenched teeth.

  Being used to relenting to similar demands in my last relationship, I try my hardest to fight for some answers knowing Elias won’t send me careening down a flight of stairs to get rid of me.

  “You come home with blood on your shirt, miss your birthday dinner, don’t want to talk about where you were, and now you’re sending me home? Is there a message in all of this that I’m missing here?” I blink back the tears that are threatening to spill over. My mind is working overtime to try to fit the puzzle together, but with only a handful of jagged mismatched pieces, it’s useless.

  “This has nothing to do with you. I’m sorry I missed dinner. I’m sure you worked really hard on it. For tonight, I don’t want to talk about anything; I just want to go to sleep. Excuse me.” With that sorry excuse of an apology hanging in the air, he saunters up the stairs, down the hall to his room, and closes the door behind him.

  I’m left standing dumbfounded in his living room, completely caught off guard about what just happened. In less than a few hours, I went from thinking I could possibly be in love, to being completely crushed by that same man.

  Instead of leaving right away, I spend some time cleaning up the ruined dinner and righting Elias’s kitchen. A few tears trickle down my cheeks as I throw away the 5-hour-old steak and potatoes, mourning the loss of how special tonight should have been.

  Before turning out the light, I grab my sunflowers, the note he left, my overnight bags, and scribble a note of my own. Untwisting the key from my keychain, I place it on the counter next to my brief letter: I’ll make this easy on you -M, and flick out the light before leaving the apartment.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Travis

  April 25, 2015

  I raised the camera with the telescopic lens to my eye and fired off a few quick shots of the blonde man leaning out his car window to chat with a barely dressed hooker. Well, well, well. Look what I found. It appeared Marlena’s new boyfriend wasn’t as faithful as she thought. I reached into my pocket and popped the white lid off the little orange bottle, dumping a dose past my lips.

  The dark haired bitch smiled before she rounded the car and climbed into the passenger seat.

  Click.

  Click. Click.

  Everyone had always underestimated me. Underestimated my determination to get what I wante
d. But now I had proof. Deceit and lies aren’t very helpful to a high profile lawyer.

  The same does nothing for a new, insecure girlfriend.

  I could take down families, ruin reputations, shatter hearts.

  They’d made it all too easy. I’ll take them down.

  One.

  By.

  One.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Without so much as a phone call or a text, a week has trickled by since that disastrous Saturday night. The first week of May has been sunny and bright, the exact opposite of my mood. When I arrived at work on Monday, Michelle sent me down to fill in for reception. Katie was a no call no show, and unfortunately, seniority dictates I had to cover. As nice as it was to sit and answer phones all day, it left me without distractions to take my mind off Elias. I itched to throw myself into writing a brief or doing some research. Anything other than waiting for the phone to ring.

  The firm was able to find a replacement at a temp agency when Katie failed to show up Tuesday. She’s been out of work the entire week. Nobody has heard from her, and she still hasn’t called in. I really, really possess a strong dislike for the girl, but I can’t help but feel a little sick to my stomach wondering about her sudden disappearance.

  Picking me up for breakfast to get me out of my own head Saturday morning, Carly drives us to this little home-style diner in a nearby suburb. We are sipping our coffee, waiting for our food, and I pick up the newspaper the previous customer must have left sitting on the table. I flip through it, skimming the articles; my thoughts lost thinking about what Elias is doing at this moment.

  I miss him.

  Last Saturday was a complete and utter disaster, and I need to go talk to him. I could pick up the phone to call him, but stubborn is my middle name. He wouldn’t explain, wouldn’t talk to me. And why did he have blood on his shirt? I don’t even know if we are still together at this point, but seeing as a week has passed, I’m guessing not. My heart constricts tightly in my chest at the thought, a pain I’ve refused to acknowledge making itself known.

  Turning to the next page, I practically spit out my coffee when an article catches my eye.

  Woman, 22, Missing after Car found in Mississippi River.

  To the left of the article, showcased in crisp black and white ink, is a flattering image of a brightly smiling Katie. My stomach drops clear to my toes, and through the floor, continuing into the center of the earth at Mach speed. I think I’m going to be sick.

  “Oh, God. Carly. Look at this.”

  Frantically, I toss the paper at her as if it burned me. In some ways, it has. Watching her thumb through the paper to the article I indicate, my mind begins racing, locking on one subject in particular.

  Travis.

  Something deep in my gut tells me he did this. Maybe this is why he’s stopped stalking me. Maybe he latched on to Katie now. Or was latched on to Katie.

  My heart is thundering in my chest like the pounding hooves. Guilt is twisting inside of me, tearing me to shreds, piece by piece. If only I had told someone the wicked things Travis had done to me, he could have been locked up. If only I’d done my due diligence as a woman to protect other women. If something happened to Katie because of Travis, because I didn’t warn her…

  “Wait, I’m confused. Do you know her or something?” I forgot that I hadn’t filled Carly in on the whole Katie/Travis/Stalking scenario taking place in what is my life. A sigh escapes me while I try to gather my thoughts.

  “Katie is the receptionist at my work. The one who I told you was a total bitch. But, what I forgot to tell you is she started to date Travis a while back.” A squeeze in my throat causes me to pause, guilt rising through me. Reaching for my glass, I notice Carly’s eyes have gone wide, her perfectly tweezed eyebrows disappearing beneath her black bangs. Gulping down my water, I continue. “Shit, Carly. He did this. He had to have done this to her. This is all my fault.” Tears sting my eyes but I will them away, rapidly blinking my eyelashes. I will not cry. I will not cry.

  “Stop it, Marlena. This is not your fault. You can’t help what that sick bastard does.” She reaches out her hand, placing it on top of mine still resting on my glass.

  “No, but I should have reported him months ago, called the police, pressed charges, anything! Before he could hurt somebody else. And now I’m too late.” My head falls, chin to my chest. I try to stifle the sob rising in my throat. It comes out sounding like a wet hiccup instead.

  “You can’t change that now. What you can do is protect yourself. He’s getting more reckless, and after the incident with him showing up at your house…” she pauses, effectively regaining my eye contact before continuing, “You know what you need to do. You need to call Elias.”

  I wasn’t expecting her to say that. Call the police, maybe. But, Elias? What can he do?

  “What does he have to do with this? He hasn’t called me for a week! Clearly he’s finished with me.” I notice Carly’s eyes go wide, somehow wider than they already were. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so curious about what made her suddenly look that way.

  “Oh no, babe. Not. Even. Close.” His deep voice rumbles from behind me. Shit.

  Carly swiftly releases her hold on my hand, packing her cell phone and keys in her purse.

  “You two need to talk.” She stands abruptly before I can stop her. “I’ll catch you later, Marlena. Nice to see you again Elias.” She calls out, waving over her shoulder as she B-lines for the door.

  I fidget with my straw wrapper, trying to avoid making eye contact with him. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to relax. The wrapper I’ve been twisting and torturing disintegrates between my fingers. I drop the mangled piece of paper to the table and raise a steady gaze to meet Elias’s probing stare.

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  “I’ll always find you, Marlee.”

  “Sure didn’t seem that way when you haven’t called me for a week.” Embarrassment colors my cheeks. Or possibly, it’s a flare of anger. It appears we are about to duke it out in the middle of this quiet suburban diner. I stare him down, my eyes pleading with him to give me an honest reply. I’ve heard enough bullshit lies from men to last me the rest of this life and the next. Something in my gut tells me if he can’t be straight, then this is it. I fought too hard to regain my self-worth after leaving Travis. I’m not about to let some other man knock me back down.

  “I’m embarrassed about what happened on Saturday.” He scrubs his hand along his brow, brushing a few of those silky blonde strands off his forehead. Shaking his head, he returns his gaze to mine. “I should have called or sent you a text, but something came up that I had to deal with.”

  With a tilt of my head, I try to urge him to continue. He remains as still as granite. His unwavering expression tells me he’s finished.

  That’s it? No apology, hardly an explanation. Not good enough.

  “That’s all you have to say to me after leaving me high and dry for a week? Are you here to break up with me or to get me back, because I must say, I’m pretty damn confused by the way you’re acting right now.”

  “There wasn’t any breaking up, so there isn’t a need to get you back. And I’m not breaking up with you now. I’m sorry you were hurt when I didn’t call. I feel like a jackass for ruining the dinner you worked hard to make.”

  The waitress pops up carrying two platters and falters when she notices Carly has left our table.

  “Is there one more?” She asks me while undressing Elias with her pale blue eyes.

  “Nah, she had to leave. I’ll just take whatever she ordered,” he replies without taking his eyes off me. Too busy studying me for a reaction to notice the waitress is still staring at him, I pipe in.

  “He said you could put the food down, thanks,” I snap, itching to continue the Battle Royal playing out in front of me. She quickly slips the plates in front of us, turning around to head back to the swinging doors concealing the kitchen. I make quick work unraveling my silv
erware, then thinking it’s probably better if I’m not holding a weapon, I slam them back down to the table.

  “That’s it? ‘Sorry for ruining dinner?’” I ask, air quotes and all. Continuing to gesture wildly about, I persist, “How about an apology for refusing to talk to me? For no explanations that night? How about for not calling all week or escaping off to your room like I wasn’t worth your time?” Anger is rising within me but hurt is also. Those two emotions seem to ride the fuel of one another. After suffering through months and months of Travis’s abuse, I was starting to feel like Elias was the man who could take my trust and hold it. However, in one short, ruined evening, he has me second-guessing everything.

  “I told you. I’m sorry your efforts for my birthday went to waste, but I’m not sorry that I had something else to take care of. The timing sucked, but it was necessary. I can’t regret it. When I finally got back to the apartment, I was wound up, and you surprised me by being there. I wasn’t ready to talk about what happened. Not then and still not now. I’m sorry, Marlee.”

  “I think you should leave. I was enjoying my morning until you came along.” Tears are prickling my eyes again, a tickle building in my throat.

  “I need you to trust me. When the time is right, I’ll tell you everything that happened. For right now, I need you to believe that my absence was unavoidable. I didn’t do it to hurt you. You were an unwanted casualty, caught in the crossfire of my necessity.”

  Swallowing hard, I try to debate his words in my head. I don’t want to believe him. The pain in my chest wants to tell him to go to hell, but I know that things are different with Elias. From the moment I laid eyes on him, I felt drawn to him. From our very first date, I wanted to know more about him. He saved me from being run over, held me in his arms when the anxiety got bad, protected me from the unwanted fears about Travis. He brought me to the doctor when he thought my ribs were broken. Repeatedly he’s shown me how much he cares. That’s something I’ve never really had before.