Never Let You Go (Never #2)

by Monica Murphy

  How dare she?

  “Oh, I’m fine,” I say through clenched teeth. “It’s not like I’m an old maid put up on the shelf yet.” I remember reading that line once, and automatically thinking of myself. That had been a few years ago, though, when I had a different attitude.

  I’m only twenty-one, which is still pretty young. I have plenty of years ahead of me to find a lasting relationship. Why would she imply I’m a lonely loser who’ll never find love?

  “ ‘Put up on the shelf,’ such a quaint saying.” Lisa sounds amused. Of course, she would. I never realized before just how mocking she can be.

  “Are we ready to do this or what?” I ask irritably.

  She clasps her hands together, appearing almost as if in prayer. “Let’s get started.”

  The cameramen enter the small studio as if they knew they were being summoned, as well as Lisa’s assistant. They arrange the chairs so that we’ll be seated facing each other and a large television is brought into the room on a rolling stand, situated behind Lisa and just to her right.

  My nerves immediately flare up, performing a tap dance in my stomach. That TV represents Aaron Monroe. I told her the last time I agreed to this interview that I wouldn’t listen to what he had to say, but this time, I gave in, as did Will. She promised it would be brief and I believe her. But knowing I’ll see his face flash on the screen . . . hear his voice . . . I’m testing myself on virgin ground. Will I be able to stand seeing him? Hearing him? Or will I lose it completely and do something horrible . . . like vomit all over Lisa?

  Oh God, if I do something like that I’ll be forever mortified.

  “I’m not going to talk for long,” I tell her the moment she sits in the chair opposite mine. “We agreed to ten minutes.”

  Lisa nods, her expression betraying no emotion. “That’s fine.”

  I felt the need for a reminder. “If I don’t feel comfortable with the questions regarding Monroe, I’ll put a halt to the entire interview.”

  Her lips shift into an almost sneer. But as quickly as it appears, the expression is gone. “I wouldn’t recommend that.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t,” I retort. Lisa’s eyes widen the slightest bit. I’m not acting like the scared girl who she spoke to only a few months ago. I’m a little savvier, a lot fiercer.

  “Let’s just get this started.” She glances over her shoulder. “Are we ready yet?”

  Within minutes, we are. The cameras are pointed directly at us, the lights bright, making me sweat along my hairline, just like last time. I’m nervous, my hands clutched in my lap, and I will them to relax, forcing my tense shoulders to fall. I don’t want Lisa to know I’m anxious.

  Though knowing her, I’m sure she can sense it.

  The formalities are gone through. The usual introductory questions, the meaningless answers. She segues into the tough questions right off the bat like the pro she is, her expression neutral, her gaze full of that wide-eyed acceptance she’s so good at.

  “What was your first reaction when you heard that Aaron Monroe agreed to do an interview?” She blinks at me, her lips curved into a pleasant smile.

  “Disgust.” I let the word drop like a bomb in between us. She doesn’t even twitch. I have to give her credit. “What could he possibly say that anyone would want to hear?”

  “Quite a lot, actually.” Lisa leans forward, as if she’s about to deliver a particularly juicy tidbit. “More than anything, he wants your forgiveness.”

  Right on cue the television screen lights up and there he is, clad in his white prison uniform, his head shaved down to nothing so that he’s bald. He’s fleshy. Pale. Like he doesn’t get much time outside, which I’m sure he doesn’t. His eyes are dull and so dark, just like I remember. He’d been strong then, too much so for me to fight off.

  I lean back in my chair, as if I need the distance. But I can’t look away, my gaze locked on the man’s face.

  The very same man who thrust his face in mine, screaming filth. I remember those eyes, almost black and full of so much rage as he called me horrific names. Tore my clothes off. Choked me until I almost passed out.

  His voice spills from the TV speaker and I cringe, my hands automatically going to the chair’s armrests, fingers curling tight. I haven’t heard him speak in a long time and I preferred it that way.

  Hearing him takes me right back. The memories assail me, one after the other.

  “What I did was wrong,” he says, his cigarette-roughened voice even scratchier than I remember. “And I wish for Katherine’s forgiveness, though I know I probably won’t get it. But it would mean so much if she could dig deep and find forgiveness in her heart for what I’ve done. I’ve already found my peace with Jesus. I’d like to find my peace with Katherine Watts, too.”

  The screen goes black.

  As do my thoughts.

  “So, Katherine. Can you find it in your heart to forgive Aaron Monroe for what he’s done to you?”

  It was hot in the shed, but I felt so cold. I couldn’t stop shivering, and I was scared. So scared. I closed my eyes and prayed to God that someone would find me. We’re not a religious family, though it’s not like we’re atheists, either. We never really went to church, but I’d gone to a few services with my best friend, Sarah, mostly holiday-themed stuff. It had been nice. Sometimes even comforting.

  Right now, I desperately needed that comfort. I needed God to tell me it was going to be okay. It didn’t feel like it was going to be, though. I hurt everywhere. My head, my neck, my chest, between my legs . . .

  Would he let me go? Or would he kill me? I’d been here at least a day, but maybe less. I was losing track of time. I think it was the morning, not much past noon if at all, and I wondered where my parents were. Looking for me? Had they called the police? They had to have by now. But would they ever find me?

  Did I even want to be found, after everything the man had done to me?

  The door cracked open and I turned away from the bright light shining from outside. The light was immediately snuffed out, the door slamming shut, and shuddery little breaths escaped me, making my chest ache, my head dizzy.

  He was here, in the shed with me. God only knew what he had planned.

  “Not dead yet?” He sounded amused. Pleasantly surprised. The word dead crushed my heart, my soul. I wished I were dead.

  Then I wouldn’t have to be subjected again to this.

  I release my grip on the armrests and lean forward, as if I, too, am about to impart a juicy little secret. “No. I can never find it in my heart to forgive him and what he did to me. He raped me, Lisa. He almost killed me. The only reason I’m alive has nothing to do with him.”

  “So you believe his asking for your forgiveness is wrong?”

  Nodding, I lean back into my chair, surprised at how light my heart feels after saying those words. I don’t know how many times I have to prove that Aaron Monroe spared me nothing. The only reason I’m here is because I escaped—with the help of Will. “How can I forgive him, Lisa? I can never forget what he did to me, what he did to my family. He almost killed me. His request is quite frankly ridiculous.”

  Lisa’s eyebrows go way up and I’m . . . thrilled. I shocked her. And I love it. “So you’re going to hold on to this bitterness for the rest of your life? Do you really think that’s wise? After all, he did allow you to live.”

  Oh, now I’m all fired up. He allowed me to live? Please. It’s like she’s purposely trying to rile me. “Do you really believe that? That he’s the one who ‘allowed’ me to live?”

  Lisa’s brows are still halfway up her forehead. I’m sure she doesn’t like that I just challenged her. “I suppose not. Are you going to insist yet again that Will Monroe is the one who saved you?”

  “Come on, Lisa. You know the story. Have I ever deviated from it? He is the one who saved me. Not his father. Will.” I stress the last word. I’m trembling, I’m so full of righteous anger, and when I see a sudden movement to the right, it surprises
me. I turn my head.

  And there he is. My Will. Gone is Ethan. All I see is Will Monroe standing in front of me, strong yet unsure. Friendly but wary, which is how he should act, considering we supposedly haven’t seen each other in years. Wearing black trousers and a blue button-down shirt, his hair neatly combed, the beard, the stubble, all of it gone so he looks fresh-faced. Young. He’s not even wearing his glasses. His handsome, masculine features are on raw display, his mouth strained, eyes incredibly dark as they watch me.

  For the briefest, most fleeting moment, those eyes remind me of his father’s. They’re the same. The exact same color, shape, size. The only difference is that when Will looks at me with those eyes, it’s with kindness. Warmth. Never cruelty.

  The shock—some of it feigned, the rest genuine—must show on my face because Lisa doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t stop the cameras from filming, either. They keep rolling. She wants to capture this moment forever.

  So I let her.

  Slowly I rise to my feet, my gaze never leaving his. I take a few steps toward him but he takes the rest, his long stride bringing him to me that much faster.

  We’re standing toe to toe. Face to chest, since he’s so much taller than me. I tilt my head back, our gazes meeting, his warm and full of so much tender emotion as his eyes roam over my face, I almost want to cry.

  In fact, I do. The tears form but never quite slip from my eyes and he sends me a look. One that says please don’t torture me, but it’s too late. I blink, hold my eyes closed for a moment to ward off the tears, and when I reopen them, he’s already reaching for me, my name falling from his lips in a hushed breath. He wraps me up in his arms and I hug him in return, squeezing him tight.

  He feels good. Strong. He smells good, too. I’m glad I didn’t see him before we left separately for the studio. The transformation seems real. It’s so weird, but no longer do I feel like I’m in the presence of Ethan. I’m with Will, the hero from my past. The boy from my dreams, my letters, my texts, my phone calls. Those stolen moments when I watched him on TV during the trial, he’d looked so different then.

  And here he is now. All grown up and holding me close. I’m being foolish, thinking like this. Delusional even. But I need to keep up the illusion, so I’m wallowing in my imaginary state. The pretense has become reality.

  “You two are adorable,” Lisa says, her smug voice causing the two of us to remember where we are, and we spring apart from each other. My cheeks are warm. Will offers me a sheepish smile. “Stop taping.” She turns to the cameramen, and they do as she bids before she returns her attention to us. “That was perfect. I couldn’t have orchestrated it better! We need to get a chair for Will and then we’ll start the interview with the both of you together.”

  I chance a glance in Will’s direction to find he’s watching me, a closed-mouth smile curving his lips. I smile in return, feeling shy, which is ridiculous because this man has seen me naked. He’s seen me in my most vulnerable moments, yet I feel like I don’t know him at all.

  In reality, I guess I don’t. Ethan only allowed me glimpses into his life, but never the whole truth. Never the real him. What are his struggles? His dreams? Does he have a hard time sleeping at night? Do his memories haunt him? Is he happy? Does he want more?

  I want to know everything I can about him.

  Not Ethan, but Will.

  Lisa’s busy directing her poor assistant in moving the chairs around the set and Will approaches, his expression full of concern. “Are you all right?” he asks, his voice low, for only me to hear.

  I nod, not wanting her to think we’re sharing secrets. Speaking intimately will spark her interest and I really don’t want Lisa paying any more attention to us than is necessary. “I’m fine,” I whisper out of the side of my mouth.

  “We were convincing, huh?” He looks proud of himself. I can’t blame him, but he probably should tone it down.

  “Very.” I turn to smile at him, unable to stop myself from reaching out and running my index finger down the front of his shirt. His chest is firm and hot, and something mysterious swirls low in my belly. “You dress up really nice.”

  “So do you.” His gaze roams over me once again, starting at the top of my head and wandering a path along my entire body, until I feel warm and flush, a little shaky. “You look beautiful, Katie.”

  The air shifts, changes. Becomes heavier, charged with some unknown force. I’m caught up in the romanticism of it all. Two kids reunited after all this time, the connection between them just as strong as it was before, made stronger by what they’ve shared as adults.

  “Thank you,” I murmur, my gaze cutting to where Lisa stands. She’s now yelling at her assistant and I wince. I would never want to feel the wrath of Lisa Swanson. She’s on her best behavior in front of us, so I can only imagine what she’s like behind closed doors. “We should probably be careful.”

  “Why? This is exactly what she wants.” He leans in closer, his mouth by my ear. “She talked you up to me, before she started our interview. Told me how beautiful and poised you are, how genuine and sweet. I could only silently agree, though I did tell her I watched your earlier interview.”

  “She acts like she wants to set us up.” Fear twists my insides. I’m terrified of the public reaction if people found out what we’ve shared. I’m also concerned for my sanity if we were to pick up where we left off. It’s so troubling, how easily he lied, if I let myself think about it. It means he could do it again.

  “Doesn’t that work out with our plans?” He leans back when I turn to look at him, his expression impassive. Only the slight lift of his eyebrows indicates he wants an answer.

  “You look different without your glasses,” I say instead, changing the subject. If he objects, he doesn’t say a word.

  “I thought it best to keep them off for the day. It keeps our façade going,” he explains, squinting a little.

  “Can you even see?” He usually wears his glasses all the time.

  “I got contacts a while ago and just never got used to putting them in.” He smiles down at me. “Thought I’d bust them back out and give it a go. Poked my eyeballs twenty times each, but I eventually got them in.”

  I smile in return, getting a little lost in his deep brown gaze, when I hear footsteps approach. A throat clears.

  Lisa.

  “Well, aren’t you two cozy?” I look at her, my smile fading while hers stretches wide. “Sharing secrets already?”

  “Just catching up,” Will says easily, standing up straighter and taking a step toward Lisa. “Are you ready for us?”

  I watch him, admiration running through my veins. He just took command of the entire situation and I’m sort of . . . turned on? No, that’s not the feeling I’m experiencing.

  Or is it?

  “I am.” She looks at the two of us, her gaze going from him to me. “Are you ready?”

  “As we’ll ever be,” Will says smoothly.

  Katherine is being . . . odd. Not like her usual self, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. I know we’re playing a part and pretending that we haven’t seen each other in years, but still. She’s looking at me in this sort of dreamy way, her gaze full of longing. Like I’m her Prince Charming who just burst into the room, sword drawn and ready to fight for his princess till the death.

  I sort of feel that way myself. I’m here to protect her, something I will always do. My one-on-one interview with Lisa wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and I was fully prepared for the worst. She asked a few general questions before getting to the meat of it, her curiosity apparent as she asked if I’d talked to my father, if I was prepared to go see him, if I’d ever be able to forgive him.

  The answer to her questions was pretty much all no. I have no desire to see him ever again. I’ve had enough of Aaron Monroe to last twenty lifetimes. I don’t need to see him. It’s like he doesn’t even really exist anymore. He’s going to be executed soon. I don’t know how many appeals and stays this man can
get. When does he run out of chances?

  Sometimes I wish he were already dead, so this nightmare would be completely over.

  A terrible thought. I feel guilty every time I have it, but does he ever feel guilty for the lives he took? The lives he ruined? He claims he does, with his crocodile tears and false pleas for forgiveness. But I see his tactics for what they really are.

  A cry for attention.

  “Sit down, please,” Lisa says, pulling me from my thoughts. She waves a hand at one chair, saying, “Take that one, Katherine.”

  I take the other, Katie and I sitting next to each other. Lisa smiles at us, the makeup artist appearing out of nowhere and patting her face with powder, then coming over to Katie and patting her cheeks and forehead as well.

  When the makeup artist turns toward me I shake my head. It’s bad enough I let her brush my hair and tame my freaking eyebrows. My man card is in serious peril right now.

  “Before we start, I wanted to discuss with you both the questions I’m going to ask. I want to focus on what happened that day, when you took Katherine to the police station, Will.” Lisa pauses, her expression grave. “Are you both okay to talk about it?”

  I’m surprised she’s concerned about my so-called delicate feelings. “I’m fine with it.”

  “And you, Katherine?” She turns to look at Katie, her expression almost . . . mocking? I think maybe Katie’s made her mad and Lisa doesn’t like it. “Are you okay with discussing that particular day?”

  Katie nods, her posture perfect, head tilted high. She reminds me of royalty, ruling over her court. “Yes, I am,” she murmurs.

  “All right, then.” Lisa smiles. “Let’s get started.”

  Panic had hit me at one point during the walk with Katie. What if the police didn’t believe me? What if they thought I was the one who hurt her? Who . . . raped her?

  I flinched just at the thought. I couldn’t stand the idea of the police believing I was the one who did that to her. Put those bruises on her, held her down, forced her to do things that revolted her, shit that revolted me. Things no girl her age should ever have to go through.