by C. M. Owens
“What?” I prompt.
“She… I think I know where I’ve seen her now. Shit, she’s really changed.”
“Yeah. Curves now instead of a stick figure. Tell me about it. I’m trying to remember why we won’t work out,” I mumble.
He hisses out a breath as his eyes widen, and he looks at me as he pales.
“What?” I bark.
“Fuck, dude. This is the sick chick.”
“Sick chick? What the hell does that mean?”
That conversation with Whit slams into my mind, but Mika swore she was okay.
“That first spring I lived out here, back when you had those parties all the time.”
“Yeah? What about them?”
“Well, one night this chick was just staring ahead, and she looked like she was on the verge of passing out. I bet I tried asking her if she was okay like ten times, but it was like she didn’t hear me until I got right in front of her. She blinked over and over, and then stumbled back. I don’t remember everything, but I remember she doubled over and puked like she was drunk as fuck.”
My throat gets tight, and my jaw tenses while I stare at him. He studies another picture and groans.
“Shit, dude. This is definitely her.”
“That can’t be right,” I say while shaking my head. “She didn’t come back after that last summer.”
“I know it was her, man. I barely touched her arm and she practically screamed. She was wild-eyed and panicked, but I thought she was just high or drunk. The second I let her go, she sprinted like a banshee across the yard, and I slipped and fell when I took off after her. By the time I caught up, she’d already locked her car door and was barreling out in reverse.”
“Why the fuck would she show up and leave like that?” I ask, not understanding any of this. He has to have her confused with someone else.
He closes his eyes for a second before blowing out a breath.
“She was staring… I just assumed she was staring at nothing at the time. Now… now I realize she wasn’t. She was staring at you. Think of what you used to do at those parties.”
I try to think back, and the second I do, my stomach plummets. I had a girl at every party, trying to replace Mika with anyone I could get my hands on, and always coming up short. She fucking saw me with someone.
“Please tell me I wasn’t fucking someone.”
“Nah, man. Not that night. At least I don’t think so. Fuck, I don’t know. It’s been years ago. I just remember her eyes, because I’ve never seen someone that freaked out.”
“Fuck!” Jerking to my feet, I forgo finding the stupid belt and grab my keys.
“Where are you going?”
“To apologize. No wonder she fucking hates me.” I run my hand through my hair, trying to get the thought of her seeing me with someone else out of my head.
That would have fucking slayed me back then if it had been the other way around. I didn’t even have the balls to find out if she was with someone the one time I talked myself into driving out to her dad’s ranch.
“Pretty sure she would hate you even if she hadn’t seen it. You did end things without ending them,” he retorts.
Ignoring him, I sling my door open, rush to my truck, and drive like a maniac to the bowling alley. When I pull up, it’s packed, but I don’t see her car. I go in anyway.
Whit is standing behind the counter when I walk up, and she freezes when she sees me.
“Hey, where’s Mika?”
Her lips draw down in a frown. “And here I was thinking you came by to see me. How stupid I am.”
She does remember she fucked Aidan, right?
“Is Mika here or not?”
She rolls her eyes. “She’s not here. She’s never here. I think Chuck said he saw her step in this morning and leave immediately after. Which is weird. Why are you looking for her?”
Instead of answering, I turn to head back toward the doors. Just as I reach them, Whit is wedging her small body between me and the exit.
“Aidan called me today.”
Is she really trying to make me jealous when she knows I don’t get jealous? At least not over her. Fucking eh.
“Good for you.”
She groans while staying in my way, and I consider picking her up and moving her.
“That wasn’t a barb. Anyway, he said to make sure you didn’t go near his sister while he was gone. He also asked me to make sure she got out of the house every three days. Not to let her go over that amount of time inside, as though it was a life or death sort of deal. He’s stuck in some city on a job and can’t get back any time soon. When I asked him why such a specific timeframe, he asked me not to ask questions. He said he’d owe me one. What’s the deal?”
That just confuses the hell out of me. Every three days?
“I don’t know, Whit,” I say with a shrug, sidestepping her, but she moves just in time to block me again.
“Look, I like her, but there’s something weird going on. And whatever it is, she doesn’t need you adding to it. You fucked with my head, but I was tough enough to take it. Mika… Mika seems fragile. Maybe Aidan’s right about you staying away.”
“Or maybe you’re suddenly jealous, since you fucked her brother and now you regret it,” I growl.
She shrinks back, dusting her hair away from her face. “Yeah, I do regret it. But not because I want you back. You didn’t want me like you want her. And I am jealous, because that’s the kind of passion I always wanted to feel from you but only got the watered down version instead. But I care about Mika. She’s been really good to me.”
My head tips back as guilt hits me from all angles. Everyone has always said I was worthless, that I’d end up just like my parents. That I’d be the town drunk or piece of shit whore. My momma was the slut everyone paid for a quick blowjob, and I got to see all those sick fucks laughing at me after I’d caught them in the act more times than I could count.
My father was constantly in a cell where he’d been thrown to sober up after starting a drunken fight. He was also constantly fucking anything with a pulse. Sometimes he was even fucking someone in the next room while my mother sucked off some piece of shit for twenty bucks.
Here I am, slowly making a mess of my life with one shitty decision after another. I’ve proven the judgmental bastards of this town right more than I’ve proven them wrong. Dragging Mika down with me isn’t an option. But letting Mika think I didn’t give a damn… Or letting her think I moved on that quickly… That’s not an option either.
She wants closure. I’ll fucking give it to her. She deserves that much.
Looking around, my eyes catch the lone bald eagle statue, and I just stare at it, feeling more guilt well up inside me. Whit is studying me when my gaze comes back to her, and she slowly moves out of my way.
“Be smart about this, Chase. Don’t break a girl who’s already broken.”
Chapter 21
MIKA
As she watched the bowling alley burn to the ground with all the things that tied her to this town, she wiped a tear away from her cheek. Detective Norris looked at her with pity weighing heavily in his eyes, while she watched the flames fight against the force of the firemen’s hoses, struggling to stay alive and take down every last memory before they could put it out.
In a way, she felt relieved, and a sense of satisfaction hit her. The man who had killed her husband couldn’t have survived that fire. He stole her bowling alley like he stole Thomas’s life. Without proof, no one could do anything about it, not even the cops. The forged will had held up in court. He’d taken everything from her.
Now he was burning alive inside all because her husband was such a procrastinator and never had that faulty wiring fixed. In a way, it was poetic justice, because it was like he was avenging his own death from beyond the grave.
She could leave this town now. She could break free. She could move on.
And Clyde James would burn in hell while her husband watched over her from above…
Still no closure. This is the fifth alternate ending I’ve put in. Each one gets worse and worse. The entire book is worthless if I can’t get the ending right, and this story will never freaking have the closure it needs if I can’t end it.
In all actuality, it’s just my closure that’s lacking. Fixing the bowling alley up hasn’t done a damn thing to help me move forward. Going there only makes it worse.
Groaning, I shut the laptop and stretch, standing and moving over to my murder board to see if I can somehow get an idea from there.
“Mika?”
The voice in the house freezes me to my spot, and a chill rides up my spine.
“Mika?” the voice calls again, but I visibly relax when I realize who it belongs to. Well, I relax for about a second.
Damn it. Why is he here? And how did he get inside?
“Mika?” he calls once more.
I could totally hide in the closet. Would that be too weird? It would only be weird if he found me hiding in there.
Just as I decide to risk it, Chase is filling up the doorway to my office, breathing heavily as his eyes land on me.
“Hey,” he says softly.
“Hi,” I say like an idiot. Just to be really awkward, I give a tight wave.
His lips twitch as he moves into the room, but his amusement falls when he takes in the walls full of corkboards and clear glass boards that are free-standing within the room. The glass boards have marker all over them, along with some pictures taped on. The corkboards are loaded with various index cards that are pinned in place with strings running from one to another.
It looks like a bunker for a conspiracy theorist who is trying to prove there was a second gunman…
“Damn,” he says under his breath, taking it all in.
I continue to stand in place, frozen to my spot as he invades my sanctuary.
“This is pretty amazing,” he says in awe, reading over one of the boards.
I’d tell him thanks, but it seems odd to do so.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him instead, annoyed with how shaky my voice is.
“You weren’t at the bowling alley,” he says, still reading over one of my boards. That’s a very graphic board.
“Holy shit,” he says as he sucks in a breath.
“Don’t read that one. It’s my serial killer book through her eyes. The publishers won’t take it since they feel it might be banned for being too dark and condoning the incredibly brutal torture and murders of abusive men. Especially since she commits suicide by cop at the end to forever immortalize her name and mission.”
“Spoiler alert,” he says, smirking as he turns back to face me while I shift awkwardly from side to side.
“It’s not going to be published, so it’s not a spoiler.”
“I might want to read it anyway. Does a Chase, Thomas, or James die in this one?” he asks, sounding amused.
“No,” I mumble. I don’t tell him his father’s name is used as the first victim though. I really tortured Clyde for four chapters. It was awesome.
He sighs as he pockets his hands, and when his eyes lock on mine, the room around us seems to shrink in size. Then my world crashes to the ground when he opens his mouth to speak.
“Why didn’t you tell me you came back after that summer?”
Chapter 22
CHASE
Her shoulders go stiff, and her eyes widen. Apparently she didn’t want me to find out.
“You knew?” she whispers, her voice breaking.
“Found out today. Blake saw some old pictures of us and said he saw you one night. Even chased you.”
She groans while putting her head in her hands.
“It was him. That’s where I knew him from,” she mutters.
When she looks back up, I fight with myself to stay in place.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask again.
Her eyes turn into angry slits as she takes a step forward. “Why do you insist on knowing how much you hurt me, Chase? You wanted to know why I came back. You wanted to know why I bought the bowling alley. Why this. Why that. You know the fucking answers. Stop asking the rhetorical questions unless you get off on my pain!”
I wince, wishing I had just kept my damn mouth shut. She’s still hurting even all these years later. It’s like the wound is fresh. And I just keep pouring salt on it.
What she doesn’t realize, is that it’s just as fresh for me.
“She didn’t mean anything to me,” I lamely blurt out, sounding like a cliché from hell.
Her look changes from furious to sad in that instant, and it’s like a punch to gut.
“She meant something to me,” she whispers softly.
“Damn it, Mika! I was trying to get you out of my head by any means necessary. We were fucking kids planning a future we were never going to have. Even if I’d saved up every dime I had working as a busboy in that stupid diner, I would have only had a total of five thousand dollars at most. It wouldn’t have even been a down payment, for fuck’s sake.”
She stares, but remains silent as I go on.
“What then, Mika? Let you move out here with me and live in that shithole house I grew up in while helping me keep my mother from choking on her own vomit or overdosing? Maybe help me drive her to the doctor a few times a year to see what new VD she’d contracted? Possibly help me clean her up when she pissed or shit herself? Pray like I did that one day it would all just be over… that there was nothing you could have done differently on the day she finally died so you weren’t wracked with guilt? Does that sound like a fairytale ending for you? Does that sound anything close to what you fucking deserved?”
My chest is heaving by the time I finish yelling, and the knot in my throat has doubled in size. Tears are in her eyes, her lips are quivering, and my pulse is beating faster with every breath.
I should shut up. I shouldn’t be telling her any of this. It’s just going to complicate shit even more.
“You were it for me,” I tell her quietly. “All there was, Mika. You were the only good thing in my entire fucking life. And I gave you up because I didn’t want you to live through the same shit that made my life so dark. I gave you up because it was the right thing to do. It killed me.” I point to my chest as my voice grows strained. “Killed me,” I repeat, barely keeping myself from losing it. “But I did what I had to. I let you go because I’d never be the same light for you that you were for me, and it wasn’t fair.”
I sag down to a chair behind me, and I put my head in my hands while touching my elbows to my knees. It feels good to get it all out there, but at the same time, it fucking hurts to feel anything at all.
My breaths are choppy and heavy, and my chest feels like a weight is pressed against it. I startle when something touches my head, and my head snaps up as Mika steps closer, keeping her fingers in my hair as she moves in between my legs.
Her left hand joins her right one, slowly stroking my hair, and I wrap my arms around her waist while touching my forehead against her stomach, resting it there. I hug her closer, seeking that light she always gave me, feeling that comfort rise just from the simple action of her touching me and letting me touch her.
“You were always my light too,” she whispers softly. “More so than you realize, Chase.”
I close my eyes, keeping her against me, and we stay like that for several long minutes… possibly hours.
“I came to the ranch to find you,” I admit softly. She tenses and her hands still in my hair. “They told me you and Aidan had moved to New York. I just wanted you to know that I did come for you, even though I realized I couldn’t ever offer you anything.”
“That’s all they told you?” she asks, focusing on that part and that part alone.
“Yeah. Why?” I ask, still clinging to her.
She relaxes against me, and her hands go back to their ministrations.
“You were enough, Chase. You were more than enough.” Her voice is quiet and sad, and I keep my eyes closed, just le
tting her touch me and absorbing the way it all feels.
“Let’s get something to eat,” she finally says after a long break of silence. “Otherwise, my stomach is going to start talking to you, and it won’t sound pretty.”
When I smile against her, I remember exactly why she was everything good in my life.
She was the only one who ever made me smile when there was nothing to smile about.
Chapter 23
MIKA
Chase walks through the restaurant, garnering attention from everyone in there as he waits for me to sit down first. I expect him to slide in the seat across from me, but he sits down right beside me instead.
Seeing him so broken today… He loved me enough to want more for me than his life would offer. I loved him enough to endure his hell and I would have found a way to enjoy it. However, life doesn’t give you what you want. It gives you lemons and hides the sugar so that you can’t make lemonade.
Romeo and Juliette didn’t have shit on us as far as painful, tragic love goes. They made death beautiful, while we made life ugly.
Sadly, Chase doesn’t even know the half of it. If he did, he’d understand what a better option his life was for me than the life I had instead.
He came for me, but he has no idea why I was in New York. Was it after his mother died? Was it before? I’m scared to ask, because I’m not sure I want to know. If he’d come to me during the early years… I wasn’t strong then. I was weak and dangerous.
His arm goes around my shoulders as though it’s the most natural thing in the world when the waitress comes to take our order. She takes one look at us, and says, “Whiskey and vodka martini?”
Guess we made an impression the last time we were in this Italian restaurant.
“Just water for me,” I tell her, feeling a little blush creep up my cheeks.
“Coke for me,” Chase says with a small smirk.
As she walks away, he turns to face me, amusement sparkling in his eyes.
“So how else have I been killed?” he asks, causing my own smile to spread.