by K Larsen
She believes Mike.
She thinks I’m making it all up.
28
Mike
I want to taste her beauty, breathe in her thoughts. I want to embrace her fight, her spirit. But I can’t and it creates a crushing sensation in my chest every morning when I wake up. Going back to sleep doesn’t take the edge off. Coffee doesn’t help. Jogging doesn’t touch the sensation. Drinking only makes it worse. I feel like I’ve lost a limb, a best friend, something important and it tears me up inside. I’m fumbling through life trying to avoid Aubry, based on her request to stay away. The only thing keeping me moving forward is research. My need to plan an execution. To end this disaster.
It’s been just over two weeks since I’ve seen her. Well that’s not true. I’ve seen her, from afar. I’ve dedicated my time to following Yuri. Learning his schedule, when he and Gregor are together; where they eat, drink, and travel. But also, I’ve been keeping an eye on Aubry. A stone in my gut weighs on me because she told me she never wants to see me again, I need to know she’s okay. So I check in once a day without her knowing. Every time I see her face, that abyss in my belly closes up a little. She seems nervous. Her bright smile, sparkling eyes—dull. Sometimes I think she knows I’m watching her. Her head will whip around, scanning her surroundings and I think I’ve been caught, but she just takes a deep breath and keeps going. Instead of carelessly exiting a building, head held high, confident smile on her face, she pokes her head out first, checking for something, before timidly leaving. My heart breaks knowing that I’ve caused her spirit to bend and break the way it has. I have to make it right.
I grip the pistol tighter. The metal grows warm where it meets my skin. I fire five shots rapidly. Letting the ear-splitting sound of the bullet leaving the chamber take my mind off Salve learning too much for comfort in this case. He’s poking around in places that can lead directly back to me. I fire another five. He has Alexei in custody on some bogus misdemeanor charge but Salve’s not after him so much as Gregor and Yuri. Taking down their trafficking ring would be a huge accomplishment and at present, Salve’s like a dog after a bone. The last five shots are fired and I push the button to bring the paper up the range to me.
I’ve never been the James Bond type badass, more the wealthy, exist to impress type, but reality changes, so must I. I’ve been ignoring Liam often to meet with my personal trainer. I’ve been here, practicing. I’ve been doing whatever it takes to be prepared.
I’m getting better. Better isn’t good enough though. Three clusters decorate the target; one near the left eye, the right shoulder, and the third by what I imagine is the target’s belly button. I rip the target down, clip a new one up and send it back down the range. I won’t be afforded a miss. I won’t have time to reload. I need to be a sure shot; it’s my best bet. Loading a new magazine into the pistol, I take a moment to focus before cracking my neck and taking aim. It almost drowns out the gnawing ache in my gut that keeping away from Aubry has caused. My world isn’t right without her safely planted in it.
29
Aubry
I finally convinced Mom I was capable of being on my own. She didn’t like the idea of me being back at my apartment. Much less me being alone there, but I gave her little choice in the matter. Being home by myself has its ups but it also is proving to have its downs. Paranoia creeps in and strikes deep. Every shadow, or creak of the stairs, every knock on the door or buzz of my cellphone startles me. I know they’ve been watching me. I saw Alexei downtown and immediately reported him to Salve, who picked him up. But even with him out of the picture—for now—someone else is watching. My phone rings at odd hours with the caller I.D. showing only 000 and when I answer, no one’s on the line. I barely feel safe locked inside my apartment. When I manage to sleep more than a few minutes, I have nightmares of being taken again and this time, tortured. Dr. Richardson says the things that excite me aren’t random. They’re connected to my purpose. Dreams often reveal feelings I’ve repressed. They are reflections of the subconscious mind and emotional truths that I don’t want to confront. But what does she know? She thinks I’m a prime candidate for the looney bin.
In the past three weeks, I’ve dialed Mike’s number precisely three times. But each time before I can hit send, I remind myself that he’s the enemy. That he used me. Made me believe that he cared for me so long as his secrets remained guarded. Of course, that doesn’t mean that my body agrees with my brain. I miss him. The feel of his heat behind me in bed. The way the little hairs at the back of my neck would stand up when he’d breathe behind me. The sound of his laugh. The feel of his kiss. But I refuse to give in. The more I talk with Dr. Richardson, the more perspective I have on the fact that he kept me hostage too—just for a different set of reasons. And it hurts. Deeply. There’s an ache in my chest constantly. The need to be near him. The drive to feel the safety of his arms around me is fierce and some days it reduces me to a puddle of tears, curled up in my bed.
The phone rings and the entire room goes cold around me. A small grunt of air leaves my lips so quickly that it’s audible. I lean over the arm of the couch and look at the screen. Closing my eyes, I silently scold myself.
It’s only Nora.
“Hey,” I answer.
“How’s my favorite best friend?” Her voice is cheerful.
“Oh, just dandy,” I say.
“Is that sarcasm I smell?” I can hear her sniff loudly on the other end of line.
“Well, if your phone smells, I suggest it’s time for an upgrade.”
She blows out a soft laugh. “You know what I meant.”
“I did. And yes, it was.”
She clears her throat. “Well, it’s the third Friday of the month.”
“Thank you for that insightful fact.”
“Aubry, it’s family dinner night at Eve and Lotte’s.” Her voice has gone from easy-going to teetering on the cusp of not putting up with my shit any longer.
I wrinkle my nose and inhale. A twinge of regret stabbing me between the eyes for taking out my frustration with life on Nora.
“Thank you for reminding me. It’ll be nice to get out and see everyone.”
“Do you need Liam and me to pick you up?” she asks. I want to say yes, but I know Nora’s sitting there, twirling a strand of fiery hair around her finger, knowing that I should say no because I need to be independent and conquer my fears. Ahh, the joys of therapy.
“Naw. I got this. I even went to the grocery store yesterday. All. by. Myself.”
“I wasn’t implying that you—” I cut her off. “I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m functioning on like three hours sleep at night and paranoia and whatever, you know what? I love you and I will see you tonight. Okay?”
“Gee, thanks for the coze,” she says.
I roll my eyes toward the ceiling. “Go on … define it for me.”
Nora laughs and despite my acute lack of cheer, I start laughing too. “It means a friendly talk or chat.” Her definition makes me laugh harder because it’s ridiculous how she has a perfect word for nearly everything in life.
“I’m sorry. I know I’m being a brat, but I can’t seem to help myself,” I say.
“I know and it’s okay, for now. At some point, you’ll have to, you know, grow as a person though.”
And it’s exactly this kind of banter that we’ve shared for so many years that reminds me that I am here; home, alive and cared about. It makes my heart happy. It brings back memories of Nora and I, and how we’d laughed ourselves home from school. How I’d pick her up or vice versa when the other was bummed out. How … every woman needs that one friend who is their rock. And how I’m incredibly lucky to have met mine so early in life.
“Yeah, yeah. Listen, it’s like, late enough that I need to be concerned about showering and getting ready with enough time to make it to Eve’s. So … you should probably go tell Liam to get in the shower.”
“Just because you two take a similar amount of time to get rea
dy does not mean that he is high maintenance,” she whispers.
“He’s right next to you, huh?”
“I have to go,” she squeals into my ear followed by a laugh. My heart inadvertently swells at the true happiness in her voice as I hang up the phone. Shit, I have to hurry up.
Lotte is regaling us with high school horror stories. The kind that put you right back there in the moment and you thank God that you are in another chapter in your life. Eve rolls her eyes at the teenage drama. Nora giggles every so often—probably because Lotte has a penchant for using big words like she does, and I become belatedly aware that my fork is suspended midair and has been since he walked in.
Slowly, as if disconnected from my body, my hand lowers it to my plate. The last time I saw him, he couldn't look me in the eye. And I … I was a tearful, angry mess. The sight of him elicits an unwanted visceral reaction from me. Nora squeezes my knee under the table. My brain berates me with a tornado of questions: Does he miss me? Does he care? Is he seeing someone? Why’s he lying? The list is endless and circles my mind without reprieve.
“Is it okay that I came?” he asks. Not to me of course, but to Nora and Eve.
Eve clears her throat and says, “Of course, sit.” She waves her hand at the empty chair across from me. Across from me. I feel like a furnace has torched beneath my skin. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and he looks like he needs a solid trim. His curls are unruly and wild. As much as I want to hate him, to chant my mantra that he is not the good guy, I can’t. Not when his eyes bore into mine with that look in them. The one that conveys all his emotions without words. It hits me then that love isn’t finite. Not for me, not for Nora, not for Liam. How could I have not understood that until now?
Liam clears his throat, “So Lotte, you were saying?”
30
Mike
I shouldn’t have come. I knew I shouldn’t come, but I did anyway. I couldn’t resist seeing her, catching her orange-y scent, feeling her silky skin against mine. Although, currently she’s dropping dishware and pans into the dishwasher like she wants them to break. Lotte snatches one from Aubry’s hand before she slams it between the dividers in the dishwasher, and gently sets it in, all while giving me the look that says do something about this now.
“Can you step outside with me for a sec, Aub?”
She whips around at a dizzying speed and plants her hands on her hips. “I can, but why would I?”
Lotte rounds the open dishwasher and gently hip checks Aubry in my direction. “Just get it over with,” she mumbles from the sink. I peek around the corner. Now’s as good a time as any. Nora’s tied up with Liam and Eve in a game of Scrabble, Lotte’s got the dishes under control and that just leaves me and her.
Her lips form a thin straight line and she reluctantly stomps past me toward the back yard. When I slide the sliding door shut she dives right in.
“You have no right to be here, Mike.”
“They’re my friends too.”
“Oh really? The friends you lied to the whole time you had me stashed away in some rainforest?”
“Shh,” I say harshly and approach her.
“What? Scared your lousy skeletons will be bared?”
I release a frustrated breath. “Aubry, please. You don’t have to make this so hard.” The glare she gives nearly causes physical pain. “I miss you.” Her cheeks flush at my words. “I just want you and me to be safe.” Reaching out I grab a strand of her hair and wrap the silky black strands around my fingers. She’s breathing too erratically. She’s too flushed. I know her tells and she wants me. I take another step closer.
“Don’t,” she whispers.
Why is she fighting this? I can't stop. I pull her closer. I bite the tiny tattoo on her shoulder. Nuzzle her ear with my lips. The cry that escapes her lips is like a punch to the gut.
“Why do you do this to me?” she pushes as my chest, sending me backward. “You’ve made me look like a lunatic and a liar. And for what? Your self-preservation?”
“Not just mine. Yours. They know Aubry. They know who you are and they know I know you.” Her eyes look wild with worry. I pull her to me, and whisper, “That night the snake bit you, I had to make a decision. I could make all my problems go away and leave you there to die, but I chose you Aub. I will always choose you. Despite how fucked my life is right now. Despite how much guilt I feel over leaving you at that ER alone. Despite lying to everyone and making you seem crazy … I still choose you.”
Her body relaxes, just a little, in my embrace. “There are a million reasons I shouldn't choose you. But I have, and I do, and I wish things were different but I fucked everything up and can’t take any of it back now.”
“Take me back to the jungle,” she breathes. I pull back and look at her.
“What?”
Her eyes hold a desperate quality that I’ve never seen in them before. “No one can find us there. No one gets hurt there. It’s just you and me.”
I bury my hands in the hair on either side of her face and shake my head. “I have to finish this. For us.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she asks giving me a look. Her small but capable hands rest on my forearms.
“I’m going to make them go away.”
She pulls my hands from her head and backs away from me.
“I want nothing more than to see those assholes get caught, to see them pay. I dream about it sometimes, but, you’re not doing it to avenge me or save countless other girls lives.” Her voice is full of fury. “You’re doing it because if they’re gone, they can’t talk. They can’t implicate you. If they’re gone, you never have to worry about your secrets coming out.”
“Jesus, you are infuriating, you know that?” I bark at her. “I fucking tell you how I feel about you and you literally shit all over it somehow.”
She licks her lips, like she does when she’s angry.
“Me? You’re the one pretending to be all schmoozy and woo-y while really just worrying about yourself. Was anything that happened out there between us even true? Real?” Her eyes bulge, waiting for my answer.
I ball my hands in the fists and crack my neck. I remind myself that she is my end goal. I need to make her understand that.
“You’re like a fever, Aubry. And this fever, it burns me. It consumes me. I’m a man waiting for a stubborn woman. One who I worship. One I love as she is. One I accept without the promise of change. I choose that. I want that.” Her coldness thaws, her shoulders relaxing. “I see it in your eyes every time you look at me. Love isn't just any single thing, it's the only thing and I love you. I want you. Why can’t you do the same?”
Her expression melts, softens just a little more. I kick a loose nail on the deck and stare at my shoe.
“I can.”
My head snaps up. “What?” I blurt out, genuinely shocked. I expected more fight from her.
She gives me a look filled with fire that makes my blood thicken. “If you let Detective Salve do his job, I can.” I groan, my frustration getting the better of me. “If everything you said is true, you’ll stay out of it and let justice happen.” With one last pointed glare, she pushes past me into the house.
A stiff wind whips, sending my curls into my eyes. I push them out of my face and head inside.
“Dinner was great guys, but I have to get going.” In the kitchen, Lotte raises a perfectly groomed brow at me. “Seriously, I have stuff to do.”
Eve bumps Lotte’s shoulder with her own and smirks at me. “That’s too bad, because I made a killer chocolate torte for dessert,” she says.
Frowning, I mentally berate Aubry for making me feel unwelcome when they’re serving my favorite treat.
“Can I get a slice to go?”
“Don’t let him have any!” Aubry’s voice carries into the kitchen from the living room. Eve bursts out laughing, but Lotte is already pulling the torte from the fridge.
At least she’s speaking to me.
31
Aubry
I’m secretly glad Nora insisted on coming over after family dinner. Being alone makes my paranoia worse. It’s late and she still has a forty-five-minute drive home but we’re in the thick of it and I know she won’t leave until she feels I’m settled.
"Nora, I don't know what I'm doing or why. How did you and Liam make it work? There was so much working against you. So many secrets and circumstances in your way."
The wind is brutal tonight. The screen door slaps against the frame, making me jump. She pulls me into her with a sigh as I rest my head on her shoulder.
"I guess, we chose each other. We chose acceptance and forgiveness and moved forward." I can hear the nostalgia in her voice. Sometimes I think she wishes their relationship was still slightly volatile. Figures.
"But what about the unforgivable things?" I whine.
"Nothing is unforgivable. Forgiveness is a gift anyone can choose to give." I poke her side, making her flinch.
"Okay, what about motives? There can be morally corrupt motives."
She sighs. "I'd be a lot more helpful if you'd just tell me what exactly is happening."
"I can't. I would. But I can't." A comfortable silence envelopes us. Nora won’t push because she understands secrets and devious motives and unsavory longings. She clears her throat.
"Okay, well look at Liam's motives. They were deplorable, but they also led us together. He wanted to hurt me. He manipulated me. Right?"
"Yes," I growl. "And although you seem to be alright with that, it still makes me itchy."
She laughs and squeezes me.
"Noted. But the greater good is that we found each other. That we love each other. And without his morally corrupt motives, there would be no happily ever after."