What the hell? “I…uh.” My non-answer tells Tanner all he needs to know.
He runs his fingers through the sides of his hair, turning around and expelling a loud breath. “Shit,” he mutters.
“What?” My heart is creeping into my throat. I don’t know if I can take another revelation.
“Yeah…Hayes knew Blake. Blake sort of stole a girlfriend from him.” I’ve never heard any of this before. “You remember Mel, right?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Of course.”
“Hayes walked in on them, spouted off a bunch of threats, and then never showed his face again. The whole thing was crazy and uncomfortable. I had a suspicion that he might be the Hayes you mentioned at the bar the other night. A little weird that he shows up out of the blue just days after your brother dies, don’t you think? And now you’re sort of hooked up with him…”
I didn’t know any of this. I’m never getting off of this tilt-a-whirl. It’s the ride from hell, and no matter how much I want to vomit and cry and scream and beg for mercy, I can’t make it stop. And I can’t fucking take any more. “You’re wrong,” is all I can think to say.
Tanner drops his hands over my shoulders. “Liss, I care about you, and I always will, no matter what we are or aren’t. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He pulls me in for another hug. “Do what you think is best. Just keep your eyes open, okay?”
I nod, and that’s all. I need a cigarette—and to get the hell out of here. Away from him. Away from them. Away from everyone.
I climb into my car and shut the door before Tanner can say anything else.
One more surprise, and I just might drive off a cliff.
* * *
I don’t know how long I’ve been driving. I have no idea where I am. I just need to get as far away from everyone as possible.
The sun dips lower into the horizon as I turn off on an exit with a hotel sign. An empty room with no one else around: that’s where I’m sleeping tonight.
As I enter the lobby, the woman at the front desk looks at me the way everyone else has been looking at me, like I’m broken, or a zombie. Maybe it’s just me thinking they’re looking at me that way because it’s how I feel inside: dead.
I request a smoking room with a king size bed. I have no clothes with me, no cosmetics—nothing. But I’m alone, and that makes me feel like I have everything right now. The quilt over the bed is cool with a satin finish, and it’s welcoming when I slide myself under the covers. I reach into my back pocket, and pull out my phone and place it beside me. It’s vibrated over and over again for the past two hours. I’m guessing I must have at least a dozen missed calls, and as many texts.
I click the display and find calls and texts from Mom and Dad, Aspen, Tanner, and Hayes. Maybe they’re all in cahoots, talking about how crazy I am. That’s it. I’ve gone fucking nuts.
By the look of their messages, they’re all worried. Except Aspen…she’s pretty pissed off. And hurt. And if I’ve wrongly accused her, then I can’t say I blame her. I scroll through each message, deleting as I go…until Hayes’s number pops up again. He’s calling this time. I press the answer button, then immediately move my thumb over the end call button. I stare at the phone rather than lifting it to my ear. I hear his voice, calling out my name. I like the way it sounds coming out of his mouth. He puts a funny little accent over the i…
Dammit.
I press the phone up to my ear, to hear him say it again. But instead, he says, “I can hear you breathing. Talk to me.”
“Did you know Blake?” I ask, my voice soft, my breath rushed.
“What?” he asks. “Why would you think that?” There’s an angry inflection in his voice, which makes me wonder if it’s because he’s been caught or if he’s truly perplexed.
“Tanner told me that Mel was your girlfriend and that Blake ran off with her…that you made threats against them both. Is that true?” There’s a tremble in my voice, making me sound weaker than I want to. I want the truth. From everyone. From anyone. “Did you know my brother? Was Mel your girlfriend?”
“I am at a loss here,” he says. “I don’t know anyone named Mel; I never knew your brother. But I most certainly have a vendetta…that part is true. It isn’t against your brother, though, or anyone you know, for that matter.”
What? Can I believe him? Am I the stupid girl who fell for the psychotic arsonist who took everything away from me?
“Are you still there?” he asks.
“I, uh…I am,” I say.
“Where are you?” He sounds concerned for me. Can someone fake the sound of worry and concern this well? Anything is possible.
“I don’t know.” I really don’t. Not only do I not know where I am, but I’m not sure I know who I am either. “I’m at a hotel, somewhere. I need to be alone, to think.” I know what I sound like right now. I know every word coming from my mouth is like a cry for help. If someone I cared about were acting this way, I’d be worried about them, too.
“You shouldn’t be alone.” I shouldn’t be with you. “When did your brother date this girl?”
“I don’t know. Maybe three years ago.”
“My daughter Ella was a year old then, and I wasn’t dating a Mel. I was still with my ex, Cassie.” I realize he could be lying, but I can’t imagine him staging a picture of a little girl to be his dead daughter on his dresser.
“Oh.”
“Felicity, tell me where you are…really.”
“I honestly don’t know. I drove for a couple of hours, pulled off the highway and into a hotel lot.”
“There’s probably a notepad in the desk drawer,” he says.
I roam across the room to the desk, where I find letterhead. “I’m at the Hilton, in Holyoke, Massachusetts.”
He’s silent, but I hear tapping. “Found it. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Please, Blondie-locks, stay put.”
I don’t have the opportunity to argue or even say no. Everything he’s said could be a total lie…or it could be the truth, which would make Tanner the liar and not Hayes. And then there’s Aspen.
Is anyone capable of telling me the truth?
I squat down in front of the little fridge under the TV, pulling the door open hard enough that it makes everything inside clank. There are dozens of little nips of liquor. They’re all highly appealing right now. I grab a glass off the top of the TV stand and place it on the ground beside me. It takes less than thirty seconds to have each nip opened and ready for pouring. I pour six of them into a glass, not bothering to look at the labels. I don’t care what’s what; I just need them to do their job.
I fill the rest of the glass with water. The first sip is painful. It’s disgusting. It burns. But then it numbs. I swallow the rest of the concoction down. Instant relief. I don’t even care about the cigarette sitting on the nightstand, waiting for me to cry uncle and give in. Because obviously my addiction is stronger than I am. It’s not a surprise. I’m weak and naive and I believe whatever anyone tells me.
With my head swimming, I stumble over to the bed and pull the sheets up and over me, closing myself in darkness.
* * *
What the? Where am I? Oh…shit.
I fell asleep quickly, or maybe I passed out. Probably the latter. My phone is ringing. Hayes. I feel like it’s been hours since I spoke to him. I look at the clock on the bedside table, but the numbers are blurry. Maybe he’s calling to tell me he changed his mind and went back home.
With a great struggle for hand-eye coordination, I tap my finger several times over my phone screen before it connects and drop it twice before getting the phone to my ear. “Hi,” I croak.
“What room are you in?” Guess he didn’t turn around. Mr. Demanding.
I reach over to the side table and snatch the key envelope they gave me at check-in, “Two-oh-four.” I hear a click. “Good-bye to you, tooooo.” I drop the phone and fall back against my pillow. A few seconds later, I hear a rapping at the door. I want to just say come in, but the
door locks on its own of course. Otherwise, that baby would have been wide open, if my recent lack of self-care is any indication.
My feet hit the ground hard, and the room tumbles a bit as I focus on placing one foot in front of the other…and the other…and the other, until I reach the door. The metal handle feels cool against my skin. I pull it open, nearly falling backward. Hayes’s arm is around me before I can rebound to steady myself. “You’re drunk?” he sighs. He looks over my shoulder, and I follow his gaze, trying to determine what the look on his face means. Oh. My mess. “Six nips, huh?” I smile proudly. Why shouldn’t I be proud of drinking myself to sleep? “You’re awfully small to take that much in.”
“I can handle it,” I say, slurring a bit. Hayes pulls me over to the bed, dropping down at the end.
“Why, Felicity?”
“Because I don’t know who’s lying, but someone is. Or everyone is. I think everyone wants to kill me, too. You know…like Blake. Even though those detectives think I killed him. Because I smoke and all.” I shift my attention, trying to see where Hayes is looking. He’s staring at the cigarette waiting for me on the nightstand.
I plop down on the bed, pulling myself toward that beautiful white stick. My fingers wrap around it, clutching it like a child grasping onto a favorite toy. “Got a light?” I place it between my lips, pulling myself up straight.
“No.” He reaches over, taking the cigarette from my lips. “I told you I’d help you not do that any more.”
I giggle. “Oh yeah! With…” I cup my hand around my mouth and whisper the word, “…seeeex.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I PEEL MY EYES OPEN and find Hayes sitting on the guest chair, staring out the window at the dumpster—hell of a view this room has. He has my cigarette perched behind his ear; I only vaguely remember him taking it, or maybe I gave it to him, though I don’t think I would have. I also wouldn’t have let him in last night if I were thinking properly. I need to figure all of this shit out. “I need you to leave.” I grab his coat from the end of the bed and toss it over to him. “Please. I don’t know who to believe right now, and I don’t want to try at this point.”
He walks toward me with slow strides. He looks hurt. Maybe I really am hurting him…or maybe I’m a step closer to figuring him out. “What did I do to make you lose trust in me?” he asks, sounding oddly calm. “Was it that I didn’t pour my heart out to you the day we met? Or was it for the way I fell for you so fucking quickly, like the asshole moron I am?” That was a punch to the gut. “I guess it could have been that I drove almost two hours in the middle of the night to make sure you were okay.” Okay. I get it. I’m an asshole. But he might be, too. “Or maybe it’s the fact that after you begged me to fuck you last night while you were shit-faced, I said no.” And now he’s outraged. I don’t remember begging him to fuck me last night. But I was shit-faced…do I ever feel it now. His words are like a blow to my head, each and every one.
I’m stunned by what he’s saying, how he’s saying it. The look in his eyes.
“It was none of that,” I say, in merely a whisper, realizing if he is in fact someone I shouldn’t be around, I just pissed him off.
“Than what is it?” His voice levels off again. “Because, shit, Felicity—I like you. And you don’t seem to trust that I’m telling you the truth.” I find myself clutching at the sheets around me, my fists tightening more and more as the conversation goes.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “If you were me, wouldn’t you be a little wary of the timing in which you entered my life? Walking in as the hero, sweeping me off of my feet, blinding me to a reality which may have been right in front of me this whole time?”
He laughs with only his breath as a red tinge stains his cheeks. “I wanted to help you. For so many reasons, Felicity…I wanted to help you. And none of them were for my own interests. It wasn’t because I burned your house down and killed your brother.” He takes the cigarette from behind his ear and tosses it onto the bed. “I wanted to help you because I know what it feels like, because I know what loss does to someone. I’m still going through it myself. Trust me; I know…it makes you feel empty, helpless; hopeless. Lonely.” He walks a little closer to the door, the exit from what was us, I think. “I mourned alone. I’m still mourning alone. And it hurts like hell. Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to watch someone as innocent as you go through something like this alone. So I tried to help. And somehow you believe I’m trying to hurt you instead. Stupid me for getting involved.”
He doesn’t say good-bye. He just whips the door open and lets it slam behind him, shaking the artwork on the wall.
Then he’s gone, and I’m just as I asked to be.
Left alone.
* * *
Minutes pass, and my focus remains on the eggshell texture of the walls. My heart begins to ache with a new kind of pain.
I whip the sheets apart looking for my phone. Rage is bubbling through me, and I’ll be damned if I don’t get to the bottom of all of this today.
Me: Where are you?
I take my phone with me into the bathroom, waiting for a response. I crank the shower on and drag myself out of my clothes. I check for a reply. Nothing.
Why isn’t he responding?
I step into the shower, letting the cool water simmer over my boiling hot skin, wishing it would at least take the edge off. I’ve known Tanner for twenty years; he’s like family. I’ve known Aspen for almost a year, and she’s proven herself to be a good friend…mostly. And I’ve known Hayes for a little less than two weeks…but does it matter who I’ve known the longest when it comes to trusting someone?
I’m rinsing the soap from my hair when I hear my phone chime from the sink vanity. I yank a towel off the rack and wrap it around myself, drying my hands quickly before reaching for it.
Tanner: At the police department.
Me: Because of your dad?
I asked him not to get his dad, who happens to be a cop in Providence, involved. The last thing I need is Detective Earnst thinking I’m requesting special treatment.
Tanner: No. I’m being questioned by Earnst…
Me: Why are you being questioned?
Tanner: Meet me at the Starbucks on Thayer in an hour.
Me: Might want to make that two hours.
I redress myself and grab my purse off of the little table in the corner. I’m just about out of the room when I remember my cigarette. The one Hayes threw at me. I can’t find it, and I only have three left, and so…yeah. I throw the sheets around again until I see the thing pop up, and I grab it like it’s my lifeline.
* * *
The ride back to Providence feels way longer than the ride to the middle of nowhere felt. My head is filled with so many screwed up thoughts. What the hell is going on?
There’s no parking, so I’m forced to park in front of Aspen’s apartment. God knows what condition or shape she’s in right now. Regardless of what she’s done or hasn’t done, I pretty much destroyed that friendship yesterday. Apparently, I’m good at ruining things.
I jog across the street and down the block, checking the time to see that it’s been two and a half hours. Tanner is sitting at a table in the corner with two Venti coffees—one in front of him, and one in front of the empty chair across from him. He stands up as I near the table—his cheeks are flushed and his skin is glistening a bit. He reaches out for me, wrapping his arm around my neck and squeezing me tightly. “Where were you?”
“Don’t ask,” I say.
I pull myself out of his hold and drop down into the chair, letting my head fall into my hands. “You’re shaking,” he says, sitting back down in his seat.
“Yeah, I am. I have been since I left my parents’ house last night.” I lift my head, needing to hold his focus. Needing the truth. “Why did you say all of that stuff about Hayes last night? He told me he doesn’t know Mel, and that he didn’t know Blake.” Tanner nods, leaving me without an immediate answer. Instead, he lifts his coffe
e cup to his mouth and takes a long sip from it. “Answer me.”
He sets the cup down in front of him, wrapping his long fingers around it and tapping it gently. “I need you to be careful right now, okay?” What the hell is that supposed to mean? It’s not an answer.
“What the hell, Tanner? Tell me why you said all of that about Hayes last night.”
“He’s dangerous. That’s why,” he says.
“You don’t just get to say that without a detailed explanation.” I look down at my phone, clicking on the display for the time. “You have one minute to start talking or I’m leaving.”
“He’s the reason I was at the police department. Evidently, he’s an ex-detective of some sort and it seems that you’ve mentioned my name to him more than a few times.” Holy shit. “Aspen was in the waiting area when I left. What the hell do you think he’s doing, Felicity? Why else would he be searching for so many new suspects unless he was trying to take the focus off of himself? Did it cross your mind why he might be a former detective? And that maybe whatever reason he’s given you is bullshit? Someone fucked-up enough to start a house fire obviously has motives deeper than an average person would understand.” He leans over to me, lowering his voice to a whisper. “He’s a smart man, Felicity, but smart doesn’t always mean good.”
I’ve been so stupid. Ignorant. Dumb. I feel sick to my stomach. I fell for him, and it was probably part of his plan. “What about Aspen?” How do we just remove her from the equation, when she clearly had ties to Blake?
“I don’t know her all that well, but she’s a sweet girl. A little air-headed at times, sure, but I’d be hard-pressed to believe she’d hurt a fly. Plus, if she loved Blake like you said, she’d have to be pretty batshit crazy to set your house on fire the night they got caught, don’t you think? You definitely would have noticed something a little off over the past year.”
Actually, I probably wouldn’t have. I used to think I was a great judge of character, but I’m beginning to think I don’t know anyone around me at all. “Awesome,” I grunt.
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