It would be easy for him to simply say it has nothing to do with us. I can accept that. But he doesn’t and that’s when the sick feeling that’s been twisting my gut all day travels to my heart.
I’m already halfway to him, determined to get some answers when he finally says something.
“I have to leave tomorrow night.”
My bare feet stop on the cold tile floor in front of him. “That quick?”
“Either then or the next morning at the latest.”
I swallow down my heart and breathe out somewhat in relief, but it’s short-lived as I cross my arms over my chest. “You have to leave?” I ask him that question because the other one is too scared to leave me.
What happens to us?
He answers the unspoken question. “I want you to come home with me.”
“Home?” I say the word with a humorless huff and pull out one of the chairs at the kitchen island. I don’t know where home is. Taking a seat, I tell him, “Are you sure they’ll even want me there?”
It’s hard to swallow when I look at him. I can say goodbye to the idea of college, or at least this college, easily. But facing his brothers? That’s something else entirely.
“They’ll be happy to see you again.” He says the words with compassion, but there’s something there, something else that he’s holding back.
“When did you find out you need to leave?” I ask, prying for more answers.
“Last night.” He clears his throat and adds, “It’s not my brothers that I’m worried about. It’s you … deciding to leave me again.”
* * *
“Stop it,” I snap at him and then correct myself. “Why would you even say something like that?”
“I’ve done some things,” he says and then leaves the empty mug on the counter. It’s quiet and all I can hear is the sound of my heart beating as he takes a seat on the sofa in the living room. Although I know something bad is coming, I follow him, taking the cue to sit next to him.
“You’re scaring me again,” I whisper to him with a pleading voice and wait for him to look at me.
With his elbows on his knees, his head is just a smidge lower than mine as he turns to look at me and says, “It’s because I’m a bad man. That’s what bad men do. They scare people.”
“I told you to stop it,” I tell him as I reach up to put a hand on his broad shoulders. His shirt is stretched tight, making him seem caged beneath it. “You’re a good person inside. I know you are.”
“You think I’m good?” he says with an air of disbelief and then he turns to look straight ahead. When he speaks again, it’s as if the words aren’t directed at me. “I’m sure you think you can see the good in everyone.”
“I don’t like you talking like this. Seriously. You need to stop.” I find myself struggling to speak. “I don’t know what’s making you say these things, but you have to stop.”
“I think I should tell you something.” Daniel speaks as he runs his finger around the lip of the coffee table in front of him. He focuses on it as the silence stretches out and I wait.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me.” My heart flickers, the light going out for a moment. Maybe from fear, or maybe from knowing it’s a lie I’ve spoken. There are so many things Daniel could say that would destroy me. But he knows that already.
“You’re so breakable, Addison.”
I huff a laugh, although it’s drowned out by relief. “Is that the big news? Because I knew that already.”
His dark eyes lift to meet mine and the intensity swirling within is something I haven’t felt for a long time.
“No, that’s not the news, but it’s why I don’t want to tell you.”
My shoulders rise with a heavy breath. “If you have something to tell me, then I want to hear it.”
Daniel relaxes his posture, sitting back and sinking into the cushion of the sofa as he stares at me. His hands are folded in his lap and I can tell he’s deciding. Judging. And I allow it.
Because he’s right. I am breakable. And the last person I want to break me is him.
He clears his throat, bringing his fist to his mouth and then looks at the decorative pillow that’s next to him. I suppose it’s just so he doesn’t have to look at me. He runs his thumbnail over the fabric of the sofa as he talks, busying his hands. “When Tyler died, you left and didn’t say goodbye.”
I nod my head and ready myself to answer, leaning forward and even scooting slightly closer. He has to know how ashamed and riddled with guilt I was. I could barely speak to anyone.
I wanted to tell them all goodbye, but I couldn’t even look them in the eye.
My words are halted when Daniel continues, not waiting for a response from me at all.
“And when I went to your house,” he pauses and licks his lips before moving his gaze to mine. “I could lie to you here, and say you were already gone.”
My heart beats hard and my breathing halts from the danger that flashes in his stare.
“But you hadn’t left yet and so I watched you pack. I wanted to pack too. I didn’t want to stay where Tyler had just walked, just sat. Where I’d just listened to him tell me about that beat-up truck he wanted to fix but never would.” Daniel runs his thumb along his lower lip as his eyes gloss over. “I wanted to run like you wanted to, but I didn’t think I would be capable until I saw you do it.”
“You watched me leave?” I ask him, not knowing where this is going, but fearing what he has to say because of his tone and bearing. Because of how the air thickens and threatens to strangle me. As if even it would rather I be dead than for Daniel to destroy me with the history between us.
“I wish it were as easy as that,” he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I watched you board the train with that heavy suitcase, and I got on too. I watched you check in to a motel four cities over. And I requested a room next to yours.”
Every word he says makes my heart feel tighter.
“I watched you for days before finally breaking myself away from you to call Carter and tell him I wasn’t coming back. I’d decided to spend my time doing one thing.” The heat in his eyes intensifies at the memory and his gaze feels like fire against my skin. “Watching you.”
“You stalked me?” I ask him although the words stumble over each other and barely come out as a croak. I can’t deny the fear that begs my body to run, but I’m frozen where I am, waiting for his confession to release me.
“I watched you because I needed to. You blamed yourself and your pain was so raw and genuine. So full of everything that I didn’t have. Of course I hated every bit of who I was because Tyler had to die, while God chose to let me live. I wanted to cry and mourn like you did. A very large part of me wanted you to cry harder as you hugged your pillow to your chest in the dark. Some nights you couldn’t even stand long enough to make it to the bed.”
He cocks his head as he looks me in the eye and asks, “Do you remember how you’d sleep on the floor even when the bed was so close?” His last words come out as a whisper and I can’t answer. I can hardly breathe as tears leak from my eyes.
“I thought about picking you up and putting you in the comfort of your sheets-”
“You came in?” I cut him off and suck in a deep breath. “You broke in to my room?”
“Addison, I couldn’t be away from you.” His admission elicits a very real fear that makes my body tremble as I shy away from him. Scooting farther away on the sofa, but not quite able to run.
“Not until you started getting better,” he adds and then stands up. I cling to the cushion, cowering under him and backing away when he tries to touch me.
The tears fall freely as the extent of my fears from so long ago is realized. I swear I heard things. I heard someone walking in my room in the darkness. I swear I felt eyes on me. “I thought it was him,” I cry out and cover my burning face. I thought Tyler was with me for so long. And it took me years to think that it wasn’t because he wished me harm. I thought he hate
d me and wanted me to be scared. And then I loathed myself that much more for thinking so poorly of such a good soul.
“I needed to watch you, Addison. I’m sorry.”
I stand up quickly, and I’m close to him. So close I nearly smack the top of my head against his chin as I stand. “I need to get away from you,” I sputter, crossing my arms over my chest and walking around the sofa although I have no idea how I can even breathe, let alone speak and move.
I can barely see where I’m going, but I know where the door is.
Gripping the handle, I swing it open and face him. My legs are weak and I feel like I’m going to throw up. He made me crazy. It was him all along.
“I never did anything to hurt you, Addison, and I didn’t want to.” Daniel speaks calmly, the other side of him starting to emerge. The side that’s okay with Daniel dropping his defenses. The vulnerable side that wants me to understand and isn’t pushing me away. But that’s exactly what I need to do right now. I need to shove him far away.
“I want you to leave,” I tell him and sniffle, swiping under my eyes aggressively, willing the tears to stop. I’m shaking. Physically shaking.
“You need to go,” I tell him because it’s the only truth I know. My mind is a chaotic storm and everything I’d been keeping at bay, all the fear and sorrow are screaming at me until I can’t hear anything. I can’t make out anything. The exception being the man standing right in front of me who’s the cause of my pain.
“Who did you think I was, Addison?” he asks me as if this is my fault.
And maybe part of it is.
“You knew I wasn’t a good man back then, and you know that now.”
“Get out.” They’re the only words I can say.
“It was years ago.”
“I said get out!” I scream at him, but he only gets closer to me until I shove him away. He can’t hold me and make this right.
“You stalked me.” I can barely get the words out. I’m in disbelief and terrified, although I’m not sure which reaction is winning.
“You had hope,” he says back hard as if it justifies everything. “You had happiness. You had everything I wanted. You were everything I wanted. You can hate me for it, but you can’t deny that. It’s the truth.”
“I want you to leave.”
“Please don’t make me leave,” he tells me as if it’s only just now getting through to him. He looks at the open doorway and then back at me. The hall is empty and cold and a draft comes in, making me shudder.
“Get. Out.” I can’t look at him as he stares at me, waiting for me to say something else.
“Addison-”
“Out!” I yell as loud as I can. So hard my throat screams with pain and my heart hurts.
Even over my rushing blood I hear each of his footsteps as he walks away from me.
“You said you wouldn’t leave me,” Daniel grits between his teeth as he stands on the threshold of my door.
The words leave me as I slam the door shut in his face. “I lied.”
Chapter 22
Daniel
* * *
The heavy pit in my stomach is why I don’t give people a damn piece of myself. That sick feeling that I swear is never going to go away is why I play it close to the vest.
I thought she was different.
I close my eyes, swallowing although my throat is tight and listening to the busy traffic on Lincoln Street. I’m close to the address Marcus gave me. Close to being done with this town and having no reason to stay.
It’s only when the street quiets that I open my eyes and force myself to move forward. Going through with the motions.
She is different. She does know better. She knows who and what I am.
She just doesn’t want to accept it.
And how can I really blame her? I don’t want to accept it either. I didn’t even get to tell her all of the truth. I didn’t get to take her pain away from thinking she’s to blame.
And that makes everything that much harder to swallow.
Passing a corner liquor store, I make sure I track the movements of the few people scattered around me. I keep to myself, heading south down the street. It’s late and only the moon and streetlights illuminate the road ahead of me. But dark is good when you don’t want to be seen.
I try to focus, but with the quiet of the night, I can’t help but to think of Addison. She’s always comforted me in the darkness.
I finally had her. Really had her. I felt what I always knew there could be between us. And I let her get away. I lost her by confessing.
Maybe that’s why it hurts this fucking bad. She loved who I am, but hates what I’ve done. And there’s no way I can take it back.
She saw the truth of what I was, but I could have sworn she knew it all along.
Maybe I should have just hinted at it. And let her ask if she wanted to know more.
You can’t change the past. If anyone knows that fact all too well, it’s me.
Give her time. I close my eyes, remembering the advice I gave Tyler once. If only it was that easy.
The chill in the autumn air is just what I need as I steady my pace with my hands in my jacket pockets. The metal of the gun feels cold against my hand as I glance from house number to house number.
55 West Planes. In the mailbox.
That’s what Marcus said. Simple instructions. But an easy setup if he’s planning one.
They say he’s a man with no trace, no past, and nothing to use against him. A ghost. A man who doesn’t exist.
He knows everything and only tells you what he wants when he wants to deliver it. But he’s a safe in-between for people like us to use. Because if Marcus tells you something, it’s because he wants you to know it.
And that’s a good thing, unless he wants you dead.
I brush my hair back as I glance from right to left. There’s a group of guys on the steps of an old brick house across the street and on its mailbox is 147.
I cross the street after passing them, so I’m on the odd-numbered side. The block before this was numbered in the two hundreds. So one more block.
The adrenaline pumps in my blood and I finger the gun inside my jacket pocket.
I have to will away the thoughts of Addison, no matter how much they cling to me and plague me every waking second.
My father taught us all to pay attention. Distractions are what get you killed.
A huff of a laugh leaves me at the memory of his lesson.
I guess when you don’t care if you live or die, the severity of his words don’t send pricks down your skin like they did when you were a child.
Tyler wasn’t with me that day. I wonder if my father ever bothered to give Tyler that advice. Addison was as big of a distraction to him as she was to me.
With the tragic memories threatening to destroy me, I halt in my tracks, realizing I wasn’t even looking at the numbers.
And I happened to stop right at 55. The mailbox is only two steps away.
The cold metal door of the mailbox opens with a creak. The sound travels in the tense air and the inside appears dark and empty. I dare to reach inside and pull out only an unmarked envelope. Nothing else.
My forehead pinches as I consider it. It’s thin and looks as if it’s not even carrying anything. But it’s sealed and this is the right address.
All of this for one little envelope.
Slamming the door to the mailbox shut, I walk a few blocks, gripping the envelope in my hand and looking for a bus stop.
I text my brother even though I don’t want to. I don’t want him to know it’s done. That I have what he’s been waiting for. It’s just an envelope.
It’s marked as read almost immediately and he responds just as quickly.
Good. Come back home.
Staring at his text, that pit in my stomach grows. I’m frozen to the cement sidewalk, knowing I have to leave and hating that fact.
I know I need to move and not stay here, lingering when Marcus will be
watching. But with the phone staring back at me with no new messages or missed calls, the compulsive habit of calling Addison takes over.
The phone rings and rings and goes to her voicemail.
I haven’t stopped trying and I don’t intend to.
I stayed as long as I could outside her door. I listened to her cry until she had nothing left. I don’t know if I should have tried to talk to her and made her aware that I was still there wanting to comfort her, or if it would have only made her angrier.
A heavy burden weighs on my chest as I slip the envelope into my jacket, careful to fold it down the center and keep moving in the night.
I have no choice but to take this back to Carter. There’s no way I can stay.
For the first time in a long time, I feel trapped. Suffocated by what’s coming.
I can’t leave her again.
I can’t watch her walk away, and I can’t leave her either.
But it was never my choice.
It’s always been hers.
Chapter 23
Addison
* * *
I can’t count the number of times I swore I was haunted. Not the hotels I stayed in or the places I moved. But me. A Romani woman in New Orleans once told me that it’s not places, it’s people who are haunted.
And since the day Tyler died, I swore up and down that he decided he would haunt me as I ran from place to place, never finding sanctuary.
From the creaks in the floorboards, to small things being misplaced. Every time I tried to find meaning in those moments. Each time I thought it was something Tyler wanted me to know and see.
There were so many nights when I cried out loud, begging him to forgive me. Even when I couldn’t forgive myself.
I wonder if Daniel heard my pleas.
My phone pings on the coffee table and out of a need to know what he has to say this time, I reach for it. I haven’t answered a single call or message from him. I don’t know what to tell him.
It’s fucked up. He’s fucked up.
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