Winter (A Four Seasons Novel)

by Rae, Nikita

  A strangled sound comes out of his throat as he sinks down and sits on the edge of my bed. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Ave. You still don’t know what happened back when I was a kid. I should have been honest with you when we started all of this. That would have been the right way to do things.” He smiles a sad smile. “Why is it that the right way is always the most scary way, huh?”

  I’m too overwhelmed to answer. I wait with baited breath to see what he’ll say next. Whether he’ll tell me that he’s happy I’m okay, but he really should be getting back to New York. That I screwed everything up and it’s too late for us. He clears his throat and I prepare myself for the worst.

  “If anything, I’m the one who should be sorry.” I can’t keep the surprise from my face. Luke holds a hand up to stop me before I can start speaking. “I should have figured it all out. Chloe would never have been able to get close to you if I’d realized she was involved in this whole thing.”

  “You couldn’t have known, Luke. How could you? She’s a cop for crying out loud. She knew exactly what to do and what not to do to stay under the radar.”

  “She bragged about that,” Luke admits. A look of pure bewilderment crosses over his face. “She told us everything. They worked together, the four of them, each took it in turns to kill whoever they felt like killing. Chloe knew the four different signatures would throw us off. She fed the others information about our investigations. Made sure we never got too close.”

  The one question that has been bothering me since Chloe pulled the ski mask off her head and revealed herself back in the basement forces its way out of my mouth. “I just don’t get it. Why? Why would she want to kill anyone in the first place?”

  “Her twin sister died when she was eight. Their parents had strychnine traps all through the crawl space under their house to deal with a rodent problem. The two of them crawled under there one day during summer and Chloe dared Michelle to eat the stuff. She didn’t realize it would kill her. Anyway, it changed Chloe. She became obsessed with her sister and the way she’d died, and how it was all her fault. She wanted to relive it over and over again.”

  I shiver, the horror of the story sinking deep inside my bones. Luke sees my reaction. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispers. “It’s all over now. She’s going to prison for the rest of her life. Let’s not talk about that.” He inches closer up the bed, a determined look forming, and slowly reaches out to stroke my hair back out of my face. I close my eyes and lean into his touch. My eyes are stinging again. Sadness weighs heavily on me, fear racing through me as I pluck up the courage to ask my next question.

  “Luke, what happens now?”

  His hand stills. “What do you mean?”

  “Well…” my voice hitches. “We obviously can’t—”

  Luke moves instantly, closing the gap between us. He scoops his hand beneath my head, supporting me as he pulls me to him. “Avery, I’m so sorry for letting you down. For being so selfish. I just have to hold you one last time.”

  My throat closes up, refusing to let me breathe properly. He can’t do it. I hurt him too badly when I ran out on him. I want to tell him that I understand now, that my mother’s vicious words confused me and I wished I’d stuck around so he could explain. I guess I deserve this—him leaving me—but that knowledge doesn’t temper the all-consuming devastation I experience as he lets me go. I finally crumble when he pulls back, and a loud sob escapes from my mouth.

  Luke doesn’t even try to hide the tears rolling slowly down his cheeks. “I understand, Avery. I really do. I get that too much shit has happened for you to want this—” he gestures between the two of us, and the motion means so much. It means us; me and him, everything that we could ever be. Confusion crowds inside my head. He thinks I don’t want him?

  “Of course I want it, Luke. I love you,” I whisper.

  His brows draw together. “But you just said, yourself…‘We obviously can’t…’”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. I was going to say we obviously can’t carry on with all the secrets, Luke. I need to trust you and you need to trust me. Because this isn’t something either of us can run from anymore. Our pasts keep trying to bury us. Brandon was right; we need to help dig each other out. Which means—”

  “Which means I need to tell you everything that happened to me. Starting from the beginning, right?”

  I nod my head, suddenly tired. “Can you do that?”

  Steel resolve solidifies in Luke’s eyes. “I can. I will.” He’s telling the truth. He really will tell me. Finally, all of the secrets, all the pain acting as a buffer between us, pushing us apart, it’s all going to be over. Luke inhales, preparing himself. “You father’s been cleared of all the charges against him. That’s the first thing you should know. He didn’t kill any of those men, nor any of the girls. I knew it all along.”

  A surge of emotion so powerful floods through me, bringing tears to my eyes. To call it relief just isn’t doing the sensation justice. Luke reaches out for my hand. “Avery, your dad did do something though.” He looks away, his eyes shining brightly as he stares at the floor. “He did kill one person.”

  And like a candle flame being snuffed out, suddenly the relief is gone. Vanished in a heartbeat. It isn’t over. After everything, after all the pain and hurt, something still remains. Adrenalin lights my nerve endings on fire as I wait to hear what Luke will say next. A single tear forms on the tip of one of his eyelashes.

  “He killed my father for me, Ave. He protected me. He saved me. And I'm ready now. I'm ready to tell you why.”