by Rebel Farris
“Hey, it’s clearing out a bit. How about we go wait over there by the stage so you can finish your conversation?” Jared motioned to his destination and picked Cora up. Cat and Nic followed in his wake.
I sighed, watching them until they were out of earshot.
“I can’t do this anymore. It fucking hurts, Law. You’re trying to make me choose between you and my girls. And the girls win. They’re my responsibility. It’s my job to do what’s best for them.”
“He’s trying to win you back, Laine,” he said in a flat, emotionless voice, his eyes tracking Jared’s retreating form. “Even I can see the way he looks at you. No guy buys a woman a house without some kind of interest in her.” He turned back to me. “Why can’t you see that? Or are you being naive on purpose, Bumpkin?”
“You know what? Fuck you, Law. You’re reading too much into this whole situation. He hasn’t even come close to showing any interest since he’s been back. He’s doing this for his kids. So, no, I’m not being naive. You’re being an asshole. You see those little girls over there? Those are my responsibility, and I’m willing to put their happiness above my own. That should be another thing that you love about me. But clearly, it’s not.”
“I don’t see why we can’t compromise on this. This, me and you, is a relationship. Those things take work and compromise.”
“Exactly! Which doesn’t start with no. It starts with weighing the pros and cons, which you were never interested in hearing. How can you rule something out without even hearing the reasons why it’s a good thing? You can’t. And I’m done talking with you about this.”
“Laine, wait. Please don’t do this. I love you.” He grabbed my arm to stop me, his other hand running over my cheek and his eyes frantically searching, pleading with me.
“I love you too, Law. But I guess, sometimes, love isn’t enough.” I pulled my arm from his grip and walked away from him, wiping the tears from my eyes before the girls could see them.
Three months of living in the house and I finally relented and let Jared stay for dinner. He scraped the dishes into the trash, I scrubbed them, and he’d put them in the dishwasher. We’d just put the girls down for the night after dinner and a repeat performance of the latest Disney movie.
When we finished, he grabbed two beers from the fridge and popped the top before handing one over to me. In moments like that, the guilt crept in. My heart felt like it was being squeezed.
It was hard to keep going each day like everything was fine. So easy to tell Law it was over, but harder to live with that decision. Sometimes, I doubted myself. I was anything but fine. But I had to lie in my bed the way I made it.
The band broke up, and that was another source of sour feelings. Law didn’t want to do the band anymore and had thrown himself into fighting. He was likely to go pro soon, and that made me want to cry, too. I knew how much he hated the idea. He was much more passionate about MMA, but his dad wouldn’t have it. If he was fighting, he’d be boxing.
“Hey, where did you go?” Jared asked as he hooked a finger under my chin and tilted my head up to meet his eyes.
“I need to go play,” I said removing my chin from his touch. “Lock up on the way out.”
I didn’t wait for a reply. I walked past him and went straight to the music room to grab my guitar, leaving Jared standing in the kitchen. My fingers were itching to play Ben Harper’s “Walk Away.” It would sound as melancholy as I felt, and the words—the words were my life at that moment.
I picked up my acoustic and sat on the piano bench, then poured my heart out. I was on the verge of tears, my voice shaky with emotions, so I didn’t sing. Just whispering the words as I played softly. My chest ached as the feelings released with my whispers, and the pressure inside me decreased if only a fraction. As I finished the song, I realized that Jared was leaning against the frame of the archway, one hand in his pocket, drinking his beer and watching me.
“You’re good,” he murmured as he crossed the room and sat on the bench next to me.
“You should’ve left. Do you get some kind of pleasure from watching me wallow in misery?”
His jaw clenched as he leveled his icy-blue eyes on me.
“No, I don’t. Quite the opposite. All this is my fault. None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t made a dumb decision. Come here,” he said as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me to his side. He kissed my forehead. “It hurts to watch you go through this. Even when you’re not saying anything, I can see it written across your face. I want to do anything I can to make it better for you, but I know I can’t. I just need to suffer along with you until you get to a place where it doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”
“None of this is your fault. Quit doing that. I’m the one who fell in love with him, and I’m the one who broke up with him. He’s the one who couldn’t let it go. None of that has anything to do with you. You should be out sowing your wild oats and shit. Not sitting around watching me mope.”
“I don’t want to do that. Here. Turn around, let me play you a song. I think we both communicate better through music.” He gave me a crooked smile and nudged me to turn and face the piano.
I propped the guitar up next to the piano and settled on the seat next to him. It felt like ages since I sat with him and listened to him play. The soft, bluesy notes rang out in the quiet house. Then he started to sing in that raspy voice of his I loved to hear.
I finally recognized the song as one by Etta James, “I’ll Take Care of You.” I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be around someone who loved the blues as much as I did. I got lost in the song, absorbing every note. My fingers twitched as I heard the guitar come in on the second verse in my memory.
I listened, carried away by his voice and the song, but as it came to a close, a thought occurred to me.
“He was right, wasn’t he?” I asked.
He stopped his playing and looked at me. “About what?”
“You’re doing all this. This house—everything. All this is to try and win me back.” I stood, flailing my arms to encompass the whole room.
“And what if it is, Maddie?” he asked calmly.
“If it is? Then that’d make you an asshole. And me the biggest sucker on the face of the planet.”
“Why? Why does it have to be that way between us? We had something good.” He rose from the piano bench to face me.
“Had! We had it. And you threw it away. Four fucking years, Jared. We don’t get to go back. We don’t get to pretend that nothing ever happened.”
“Why?” he asked as he stalked toward me. “What’s stopping us?”
I stepped back, in time with his advances, until my back hit the wall.
“You think this hurts you? Watching me go through this? Do you have any idea—any clue what you did to me? It took me two years just to talk to someone else. To make friends. Even Nic gave up on me.”
His arms came up, and he pressed his hands into the wall on either side of me as he stared me down.
“I think I can imagine. Do you think it was a cake walk for me, Maddie?”
“It was your decision,” I yelled at him. “You don’t have the right to be hurt over it or even pretend like you know how it felt.”
But even as I said the words, I knew they weren’t true. It was my decision to break up with Law. Didn’t mean it hurt any less. And the fact that he could’ve been hurt and still do that to us pissed me off. Or maybe I was pissed at myself. A frustrated cry broke free through clenched teeth. I tried to slap him, but he caught my wrists, pinning them above my head to the wall.
“I want to kiss you right now,” he said, breathing heavily, his body, his face inches from mine. “But you’re not ready yet. I’m not making a move tonight; it won’t be tomorrow either. Understand me, though…” His eyes grew serious, his tone quiet but firm. “I’ll fight for you. I’ve never loved anyone. Just you. I want no one, but you.”
He released me, t
urned, and walked out the front door.
I stood there speechless, in shock. I was full of conflicting emotions as I stormed to my room. I wanted to scratch his eyes out. Rip off his balls and feed them to him. But part of me, a shameful part of me, liked his declaration and even the way he handled me. I’d always be a sucker for him. I wanted to apologize to Law. I wanted to run away from them both. From everything. It was all too much.
I closed the door quietly behind me, careful not to wake the girls, and spied a red calla lily on my bed. Fucking Jared. I felt the impotent rage well within. I grabbed that little innocent flower and did the unspeakable things I wanted to do to Jared, himself, at the moment.
When I stopped my rage, tiny little pieces of red petal and green stem littered the floor of my room. I buried my head in a pillow and screamed at the top of my lungs.
What I wouldn’t give to have never had met the man. That’s not true, though, because without him my two little angels wouldn’t exist.
I fell asleep into a fitful rest without dreams, my mind playing his words over and over, to torture me beyond consciousness.
Now
I turn in Dex’s arms and gaze into his turquoise eyes. From afar, his eyes appear to be a solid shade of blue-green, but up close there are little flecks of green in the blue that become denser around the pupil. It’s beautiful enough to get lost in. I search those eyes for signs that confirm my suspicions, or if I’m just being paranoid.
My stalker can’t be right about him.
He watches back, and I’m not sure how long we stand like that before his thumb brushes over my lower lip. I have to close my eyes as chills race down my spine. Then his lips are on mine.
His kisses are like air, and I feel like I’ve been trapped in space, slowly dying of asphyxiation. This need controls me beyond all rational thought. I don’t hold back; I don’t think I could if I wanted to. Running my hands around his waist, I tug his shirt up until I feel the heat of his skin under my fingertips.
His hands come up to cradle my face, and I moan into the kiss just before he breaks away. He rests his forehead to mine, his breathing labored.
“Maddie, we need to talk.”
Nothing good ever comes out of a conversation that starts with those four words. But he’s not wrong. The video. Ice fills my veins as I remember, pushing away and stepping back. My mind keeps mulling over the fact that if Chloe could’ve kept something so big from me for years, odds are pretty good that the stalker is right about Dex. And no matter how careful I think I’m being, I’m still entirely too trusting for my own good. I feel a pressure build behind my eyes.
His face scrunches in confusion. “I think—” He’s cut off as the door to my office opens, again.
Bridget stands there looking her usual combination of sultry badass professional. She’s not wearing the jacket to her suit, so the tattoos on her arms are visible. Her lips are pressed in a flat line, and in combination with the crease between her brows, I know she’s not happy.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping to have a few words with you,” she says, leveling her gaze on me.
“Can it wait a few minutes?” I ask, raising both brows.
“No. I need to speak with you. Now.”
I look back at Dex, and he nods his assent. I guess that talk will have to wait. I walk with Bridget toward her office, leaving Dex behind in mine. This better be good.
“Is this important? We were fixin’ to—”
“Yes, it’s important,” Bridget whispers, her eyes darting back to my door. “And it has to do with him.”
“With Dex?” I ask, halting in the middle of the hall.
“Shhh.” She puts a finger over her mouth as she grabs my arm and drags me the rest of the ten feet into her office.
Once inside, she shuts the door behind us and pulls her blinds closed. My brows draw together as she pulls a file from her desk drawer and tosses it onto the surface.
It takes a second before I realize what I’m staring at—Dex’s juvenile records, the same ones I had in my hands yesterday.
“How’d you get that?” I ask in a hushed tone, my eyes darting to the door and back to her.
Her lips purse as she studies me. “You know what that is?” she asks.
“Of course I do. He showed it to me yesterday. What I don’t understand, is how in the hell is it sitting on your desk right now?”
“Maddie,” she sighs. “We need to have some real talk. How much do you know about your new boyfriend?”
“Whaddyou mean?”
“What I mean is that I ran a background check on him because, you know, all the other stuff going on. I found this file on him. I went down to the station and asked my contact. Turns out he’s an undercover cop. You don’t want to know what I had to do to get that info either.”
“I knew that,” I say. “He’s actually shown me that file.”
“What in the ever-living fuck are you thinking, then?” she yells, her hands flailing around in the air.
I raise an eyebrow at her. “That he was assigned to follow me and try to catch my stalker. Under the guise of being my boyfriend.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Why am I just now finding out? I’m your fucking lawyer, Maddie. You don’t need to be talking to the police, much less romping around with an undercover cop.” She pauses and pinches the bridge of her nose. She stops and leans down to level a look at me. “What do you think he’s investigating?”
“They said they think the stalking and murder cases are tied. They wanted Dex to follow me and see if he picked up on clues or somehow sees the stalker by being near me.”
“What has he done to further his investigation?”
My stomach drops, because I think I know where she’s going with this. It’s the same niggling feeling I’ve had since I woke up. Confirmed, first, by my stalker, and now Bridget. Could this get any worse? I drop my head into my hands, burying my fingers in my hairline. How fucking gullible am I? I feel sick.
“He shared that file with me last night. Told me about his life growing up and why he ended up becoming a cop. He said he was telling me to earn my trust, but the thing is…” I sigh as I sit back in the chair and look at Bridget. “He told me when we got to the house and all the paparazzi were there that—that file is easily accessible and part of his cover. It didn’t even strike me as odd until I woke up this morning. And last night after we left the diner where he showed me that, a cop conveniently shows up before we get down to business when we parked at Zilker. One that just happened to know who I am.” Tears well in my eyes. “Fuck, Bridget. I screwed up.”
She comes around her desk and drags the other chair next to the one I’m sitting in. She pulls me into her arms and holds me there.
“I don’t have any proof of what his purpose is,” she says softly. “But his eyes are always on you when you’re around, and either he’s bad at his job and really likes you, or he’s investigating you, Mads. It’s been four years, and as far as I know, you’re the only person they ever investigated. Your DNA was all over the crime scene, and no one else’s.”
“But you said the security tapes—”
“Put you somewhere else at the time of death, I know, but that still doesn’t rule you out completely. They can still make a case. You should’ve come to me, Maddie. Always let me handle the police. I know you want to trust Detective Martinez, but you need to let me handle this. And you need to get Dex out of here, now.”
I nod and take a deep breath. My finger twists in the rubber band at my wrist.
“Before you go, I need to know what else you told him. Did you tell him anything else about that night? The stuff I had removed from the case file or otherwise?”
“No, we haven’t talked about it at all.”
“Good,” she says with a half-hearted smile. “Let’s see if we can clean this mess up before it gets out of hand.”
I rise from my seat, and she stands with me. In
hale, summoning strength and courage to move forward. Exhale, releasing my fears and reservations. I can do this. I’ll fix this.
Then
“Have you heard back from any of the places you applied to?” Jared asked.
We sat on a park bench at Zilker Park, steps away from where the girls were playing with tons of other kids on the huge playground. The sun was bright as I leaned back and looked over at him through my sunglasses.
“Yeah. I’ve three interviews set up for next week. All internships, but I’ve gotta start somewhere.”
“That’s awesome. I’m proud of you.” He smiled but still faced the playground, keeping an eye on the girls.
“Yeah… I’m excited about the possibilities. Learning the ins and outs of recording.”
“You’ll do great.”
This was what we had become. Harmless chitchat about trivial, day-to-day things. We hadn’t spoken again about that night three months ago when he told me he was going to fight for me. He hadn’t made a move or acted awkward.
I hadn’t talked to Law either. He went out of town with his father, according to Sloane. He’d qualified for pro and started the fight circuit. I wanted to be happy for him—it was great news—but I knew deep down that it wasn’t what he wanted. The guilt that I’d inadvertently pushed him into it surged within me every time he crossed my mind.
“What are you thinking about?” Jared asked, snapping me out of my melancholy thoughts.
“Nothing important,” I said with a sigh and looked away.
“It’ll get better.”
“You speakin’ from experience?” I asked snidely. I instantly regretted it.
“No. It never got easier for me. But that’s what they say. The general consensus.”
“How’re you okay with this? Why isn’t this driving you crazy or making you angry? If it really means that much, I’d think you’d feel something other than okay about it.”