Seamless

by Griffin, R. L.

  The song ended and the broadcaster came on with news. Hearing her name shook her from her reverie. Her whereabouts were news again. That’s great. Apparently, the story about ATF Agent Jack Ryder being shot at “Stella’s former home” while Stella and her best friend watched a movie was all over the news. This didn’t surprise her, but she’d sheltered herself from TV, radio, and internet for the past few days and didn’t know if she was prepared for the onslaught of questions. She’d been texting with Greg and simply directed him to handle it. Emotionally, she was done and couldn’t fathom making any sort of statements right now.

  She had a big decision to make and she was the queen of dreadful decisions.

  She pulled the Challenger in front of the house and cut the engine. She closed her eyes and counted to 18, trying not to think of the last time she was at this house. Jamie. Stella tried not to picture Jamie’s head exploding. She didn’t know if she could even go in the house now. Opening the car door, she stepped into the driveway and Cooper jumped out. Breathe. Cooper ran to the closest bush while she stared up at the door. As if he could sense her presence, the door opened and those blue eyes stared at her, full of life. Full of hope.

  “El…” It was a moan.

  Oh shit. Stella moved slowly and Cooper followed, bounding up the stairs to where Patrick stood, his hands shoved in his pockets. She walked up the stairs staring at her feet. She felt strong arms encircle her and pull her into his body. Stella released a breath and shook her way free from his grip. He let her take a step back from him, but framed her face with his hands and leaned into her, kissing her. Stella shook her head imperceptibly and Patrick stilled. He stepped back and his gaze searched hers.

  “El?” His eyes grew cold as she stood there, frozen, unable to tell her best friend she wasn’t staying with him. He grasped her hands in his with a death grip.

  “I can’t,” she barely whispered.

  “What?” he croaked, his eyes boring into hers.

  “I’m going to George’s.” She broke off eye contact and looked at Cooper, who was standing in between them, smiling his doggie smile, waiting for someone to pet him.

  Silence.

  A tear slipped from her eye.

  “Tell me you don’t love me.” His voice shook with emotion she’d never heard from him before.

  Stella continued to stare down, avoiding his piercing gaze. She didn’t want to see his eyes when he realized she wasn’t coming to be with him.

  “Fucking look at me!” His voice rose. “El!”

  Stella shook her head no and began backing away from him, pulling her hands away as she walked.

  “Oh, you think I’m going to make it that easy? Just let you come here and say ‘I can’t’? Tell me you don’t love me, El.” Patrick jerked her forward, causing her body to crash into his. “TELL ME!” He dropped to his knees to meet her downward gaze. “Look at me and fucking tell me you don’t feel it. Feel this thing, this pull between me and you. I love you, El, and I’m pretty fucking sure you love me too.”

  Another tear fell from her as she tried to remember what she’d come here to tell him. “I-I can’t,” she stammered.

  “You can’t what?” His voice shook with indignation.

  Stella was shaking her head rapidly. Please don’t make me say it. Please.

  “You can’t what?!” He was yelling now. “El. You can’t what?!”

  Stella finally looked into those blue eyes that had always been there for her. Her hand ached to touch him, cradle his head in her hands, but she couldn’t. She knew once she touched him she’d lose her resolve. She owed him the truth. “I can’t tell you that I don’t love you, Patrick.”

  “Then come home. Come to our room. I already bought a new bed and new sheets.” He put his palms on her hips; it felt intimate and she exhaled shakily.

  “Patrick, I love George too.”

  Patrick’s head dropped and his shoulders slumped. “Please, El, don’t do this.”

  “I do love you,” she whispered. She took a step back and Patrick grabbed her by the back of her thighs and roughly pulled her to him, his face buried in her stomach. Stella looked around for any cameras, panicked. It would kill her if this was caught by someone and plastered all over the internet.

  “Stay with me…love me…trust me,” he almost sobbed into her. “El, please…”

  Stella’s resolve broke and tears flooded down her face. She lowered herself to her knees too, so they were face to face. She began shaking with sorrow, with a grief that she didn’t know she could feel. Stella hadn’t anticipated that this conversation would alter her this way; maybe it was because it was Patrick, her person, her rock, and she was losing him. “You told me nothing would change, Patrick,” she said, her words quivering with emotion. “You better not have lied to me again.”

  Patrick shook his head in disbelief. She gently put both of her hands on the back of his head and sighed, letting the tears flow. Realizing what she was close to doing, she froze and began to frantically untangle herself from him.

  “I have to go.” She practically ran down to her car. “Cooper!” she yelled and he came running, jumping into the car. Tears began to fall full force as she pulled away from the curb. When she glanced back in the rearview mirror, Patrick was still on his knees, his head in his hands. Fuck.

  Chapter Thirty

  The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions

  She turned onto her street with every intention of pulling into the driveway and begging George to take her back, but there were reporters camped out in the park and she simply drove past. Patrick’s face was embedded in her mind now. She sobbed uncontrollably and blindly grabbed her phone, taking the first left she could and pulling over.

  “Hey, bitch,” Millie answered.

  “Millie,” Stella’s voice caught, “can we stay with you?”

  Silence.

  “Please.” Stella wasn’t above begging.

  When Millie spoke, her voice was reserved. “Of course, El. Come on over.”

  “Be there in five.”

  Millie had texted her new address to Stella while she was still in North Carolina; she had moved about five miles closer to DC to an area called Del Ray. Stella was moving on autopilot, thankful for turn-by-turn navigation. She pulled into the parking lot of the condos and saw Millie standing on the sidewalk waiting for her.

  Stella opened her door and Cooper jumped through it, running up to Millie, who stood on the sidewalk in grey sweatpants and her American Law sweatshirt, her hair piled on her head. She had no makeup on and had clearly pulled on Ugg boots solely to come meet Stella.

  “Hey, boy,” Millie said, her voice full of sadness.

  Stella and Millie embraced without saying anything.

  “I’m sorry,” Stella whispered, still not trusting her voice.

  “I’m sorry for your fucked up life.”

  “I’m glad we’re both sorry; the two of us living together should be fun.”

  Millie cocked her head to the side in a question. “Why are you staying with me, El?” she asked conversationally, putting her arm through Stella’s as they walked to her condo.

  “Because I’m a stupid, stupid asshole.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “I drove to my house, George’s house, and I couldn’t go in. I had the full intention to beg him to take me back, Mil, but my car wouldn’t stop. I guess I just need more time.”

  “More time for what?” Millie prodded as she opened the door.

  “I don’t know.” Stella shook her head and felt nauseous. “Where’s your bathroom?”

  Millie pointed down the hall, concerned.

  Stella suddenly felt hot and barely made it to the toilet before she threw up the chicken biscuit she’d eaten for breakfast while driving home. Her knees shook and she sunk to the floor of the bathroom. Hot tears streamed down her face. She was shocked she had any tears left. Stella felt Millie’s presence before she saw her. Millie sat down on the
floor and Cooper lay next to them.

  “What the hell is going on, El?” Millie’s voice was soft.

  Stella’s head drooped. She felt so guilty about what she’d done with Patrick; he was her best friend’s boyfriend for fuck’s sake. All the emotions she felt were fighting with each other and making her sick. “Millie, I think I’ve finally had all I can take.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think this last bit of my life has been my undoing. I want to drive with Cooper and just keep driving. I’m tired, Mil. I’m so fucking tired of the fight that is my stupid life. I can’t do it anymore. I don’t have anything left.”

  Millie smoothed Stella’s hair back, her gentleness bringing a fresh round of tears. Stella looked at the pastel-striped shower curtain and frowned; she didn’t deserve Millie either. The only people she hadn’t fucked over that meant anything to her were Jesse and Billy, and they’d probably hate her after this too.

  “Patrick told you?” Millie asked.

  Stella couldn’t form words, so she nodded.

  “And you’re here?” Millie’s voice was surprised.

  She nodded again. A tear streaked down Millie’s face and she wiped it away quickly, pulling Stella into a hug.

  “You’ve been throwing up since Jamie?”

  “Ugh,” Stella shuddered, “yes.”

  “You need to go to the doctor. You could have a concussion or something.”

  Stella shook her head. “I ran out of my medicine. This is the worse stress I’ve had in a while, so it’s probably just my body reacting to that.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Millie coaxed. “I really think you need to see someone.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Mil. I’ll call and make an appointment with my internist for this week, maybe they can fit me in.”

  “Okay,” she said softly. “What happened with George?”

  “I left him,” Stella half-sobbed in relief at talking to someone who wasn’t Patrick. “God, he’s so much better off without me, Millie, but selfishly, I just want to go and beg him to take me back.”

  “He’s been out of his mind crazy, El. He’s been calling and texting me multiple times a day.” Millie looked at her hands. “You should at least tell him where you are and that you’re okay.”

  “I’m not okay. I’m so far from okay it’s ridiculous.”

  “Well, call him and tell him you’re fucked up, but alive; tell him that you love him and miss him, but you’re staying with me for a bit. To get your bearings.”

  “Mil.” Stella began shaking her head back and forth, then stopped because she thought she’d throw up again.

  “Do. It.” Millie pushed Stella’s phone across the floor to her.

  Stella opened the Voxer app and new tears fell seeing the picture of them smiling in Aspen. “George…” Her voice broke and she ended the message. Millie nudged her. Stella looked up, trying to stave off new tears, and tried again. “George. I love you and I miss you. I’m staying with Millie for a while to get my wits about me. I’m not sure where you are, but I’m sorry. For everything.”

  The next day, Stella walked into FBI headquarters and through the metal detectors. Her heels clicked on the marble floor and she followed the hall to the office where she was supposed to meet Agent Harris.

  She opened the door and saw him sitting at the table, alone. “Stella. I’m sorry. I really did what I could. The ATF pulled out the big guns on this one.”

  “Well, that’s really great. Will the truth come out now?”

  He shook his head sadly. “I doubt it, but that’s above my pay grade.”

  Stella sighed and sat down. She put her phone on the table, she’d pressed record just outside the door. The screen had already faded to black.

  “Ask your fucking questions so I can get to work please,” she said with a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Had you talked to Jack before he showed up at Millie’s house?”

  “Well, as you are aware, I’d been talking to him to get him to admit he shot me and kidnapped me.” She wasn’t giving him anything.

  “What was he doing there?”

  “No idea.” Stella shrugged. “He was trying to get me to go with him.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me that, only that he wished he would’ve killed me earlier.” She fidgeted.

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “Only that he knew I’d recorded one of our conversations for the FBI. I wonder where he heard that,” she spit out.

  Agent Harris’ eyes widened at that accusation. He stood quickly. “Stella, I know you don’t believe me, but I’m truly sorry. If he came after you because you were helping us, I…I don’t know how he knew that.” It was the first time Stella had ever seen the calm, collected Agent Harris flustered in any way.

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe. I was shot at. Again. I’m lucky to be alive. Again. I won’t be making the mistake of helping the FBI. Again. Ever. If you have any other questions, please call Greg.”

  Stella lifted herself out of her chair and walked out of the office, not looking back. She hadn’t blatantly lied. She answered the questions truthfully; that was the brilliance of Patrick’s plan.

  She sighed. She missed him. He refused to take her calls and was ignoring her texts, which she completely deserved.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Everyone’s a Little Broken

  Millie was on a date with a lobbyist who wore bowties and Stella had the condo to herself. She was enjoying living in companionable silence with someone else; she had mastered the art of staying out of Millie’s way and Millie hadn’t asked her when she would be leaving.

  She dialed his number for the millionth time in the last week and, just like always, he put her straight to voicemail. Fucker. Stella threw the phone as hard as she could on the bed. “Fuck!” She walked into the closet and put her feet in flip flops, even though it was freezing outside, and ran down the stairs. She got in her car before she could talk herself into staying home and angrily chewed the side of her mouth as she drove to her old house. This is stupid.

  She let out a breath when she saw Billy and Patrick’s cars in the driveway; it was odd that they were both home on a Saturday night. She pulled in front of the house, walked determinedly up to the door, and knocked. Hard. Billy opened the door mid-laugh, but it caught in his throat when he saw her.

  “El.”

  She stepped around him and walked into the house. She saw Billy’s girlfriend sitting in one of the chairs in the den and looked around for Patrick. She turned to Billy, her face a question.

  Billy leaned towards her and pulled her into a hug. It was the first time he’d seen her since Jamie was shot. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said loudly. Then he whispered, “You broke him,” and released her.

  She glared at Billy, wondering what he meant. She turned to his girlfriend and gave her a fake smile. “Hey, Kayce.”

  “Hi, Stella,” the cute brunette said, “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

  “I just need to give Patrick something.” She started walking toward Patrick’s room.

  “You may want to wait!” Billy called after her.

  Just then, Patrick came out of his room in only boxer briefs and walked to the fridge. He looked into the den casually and stopped short when he saw Stella. He pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and drank it all in one gulp.

  “Oh, shit,” Billy muttered behind her.

  “Why aren’t you answering my calls or texts?” Stella asked.

  Patrick’s eyes bored into her, hardening as he stared. He reached silently into the fridge for another bottle of water.

  “Patrick?” a leggy blond girl in only a t-shirt asked from the doorframe. She smiled at Stella with her just-fucked face.

  Stella fumed. Of course. Patrick threw the blonde the bottle of water. She caught it and gaped at Stella.

  “Answer my fucking question,” Stella demanded.


  “You don’t get to tell me what to do. Do you?”

  They continued to stare at each other, making everyone else in the room decidedly uncomfortable.

  Patrick shrugged. “I’ve been busy,” he relented.

  Stella stepped into him and hissed, “See, I was right. I can’t trust you to do what you say.” She turned on her heel and stomped away, making it to the den before she felt his hand grab her arm hard, stopping her in her tracks.

  “Fuck. You. Stella!” Patrick yelled into her ear.

  The force of his words knocked her sideways and she closed her eyes. She felt like she’d been slapped across the face. Although it was unfair, Stella was hoping they’d be able to stay friends. It wasn’t fair to either one of them to think that way, but she didn’t want to lose him. She’d lost him anyway. Stella didn’t turn around, but looked at Billy, whose face showed disbelief. She ran through the den and out the door as fast as she could.

  George was sitting on his hotel bed drinking whiskey straight from the bottle when his phone dinged with a Voxer message. It was Jesse.

  “Sweaty Balls, you okay? I haven’t heard from you.”

  “Plays with his Balls, not close to okay.” George’s voice was lifeless as spoke into the app. His phone rang immediately. “Hey, man.”

  “Dude, your voice sounds…sad.”

  “I am sad,” George admitted. He probably wouldn’t normally have shared that with anyone, especially a guy like Jesse, but he’d consumed almost half of his bottle of whiskey.

  “Well, have you talked to her?”

  “Yes,” he sighed into the phone, “it didn’t go well.”

  “What do you mean?” Jesse asked.

  “Well, she apologized for leaving.”

  “Sounds promising…”

  “It was, until I told her I couldn’t keep losing her. Every fucking time things get hard or she needs someone, she runs. And she doesn’t run to me—she runs to you, or to Patrick. That’s not how relationships work. You’re supposed to run to each other when you need someone.”

  Jesse was silent.