He chuckles and leans his forehead against mine so our noses touch. “So, we’re going to make this work?”
“Yep.” I pop the “p” driving home my point. Growing serious, I add, “I don’t want anyone else, and this may not be how I imagined us getting together, but I don’t regret it. It’s part of our story and that’s a beautiful thing.”
He cracks a grin and leans back. “Look at you being all poetic.”
I shrug and wrinkle my nose. “It happens every once in a blue moon.”
Cade’s footsteps sound into the room—I know it’s him, because he walks like an ogre—and he makes a gagging sound. “Do you guys have to be so lovey-dovey all the time? You’re making me sick with all this sweetness.”
I stick my tongue out at him. “It’s about time you got a taste of your own medicine. Deal with it.”
He shudders and opens the refrigerator, scanning the items inside. He grabs the orange juice and pulls it out, taking a swig straight from the bottle.
I give Xander a horrified look. “Remind me to never ever drink the orange juice under any circumstances.”
Cade closes the bottle and wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. “You might want to avoid the milk too.” He winks before heading from the room.
“Ew,” I groan, and reach for the only thing on the table that’s acceptable for throwing; I toss the orange at him and it hits him square in the back.
He doesn’t even flinch.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t do that,” he calls back.
I shake my head, laughing under my breath. “Maybe our own place wouldn’t be so bad.”
Xander smiles. “All you have to do is say the word.”
“Are you always going to put the ball in my court?” I ask him.
“Well, yeah, you’re the bossy one in the relationship.”
I bust out laughing. “Is that so?” He nods, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Eh, I guess you’re right,” I say after a moment.
He chuckles. “I like that you know what you want. It makes things easier for me. There are no guessing games with you.”
I slide off his lap and pick up the envelope. “I better give this to her and make sure it gets signed and sent back. The sooner this divorce is final, the better off we’ll all be.”
My dad has been driving by more and more frequently, and he hasn’t even gotten the divorce papers yet. He’ll probably go ape-shit when that happens.
I head upstairs with the envelope, surprised by how heavy and thick it is. Apparently, you need a lot of big fancy words to end a marriage. I always imagined it would simply read:
THE END.
I knock on her bedroom door and she calls out for me to come in.
I hold up the envelope. “They’re here.” I watch surprise, pain, and finally happiness flicker in her eyes. “All you have to do is sign your name and then you’ll be free.”
“Free,” she repeats, padding across the room and taking the envelope from me. “I’d resigned myself to being stuck in my own personal hell for the rest of my life, it’s strange to realize I’m coming out of the hole on the other side.”
“Believe it.” I give her an encouraging smile. “Now, sign these papers and end it.” She opens the package and pulls out the papers. I grab a pen off the desk and hand it to her. “I feel like I should take a picture,” I joke. “This feels like a very important moment.”
She laughs, signing her name in the designated spots marked off with brightly colored sticky flags. “Maybe we should.”
“Hang on,” I tell her, and pull my phone from my pocket. “Smile,” I tell her.
She does, and then I take another with her holding up the papers proudly.
I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. In fact, I can’t recall a time when I’ve seen a smile this genuine on her face, and maybe it’s strange to say, but I’m proud of her. She left a bad situation and she’s gaining back her life. Some might argue that she should’ve done it sooner, but I don’t see it that way. She did it and that’s what matters, not the when.
“Well,” she says once she’s done signing everything, “this will all be over soon.”
I hug her. “And your life can finally begin.”
She hugs me back. “It already began, it just took a detour and I hit a few pot holes along the way, but I’m finally on the right route again.” She lets go and holds me by my shoulders, looking me over. “I don’t tell you enough, but I’m proud of the woman you’ve become. You’re strong and caring and funny and amazing. I’m lucky to be your mom.”
I sniffle. “Don’t make me cry.”
It’s too late, though. The tears begin to fall and I’m helpless to stop them, but instead of sad tears, these are happy ones, and they cleanse my soul.
Practice kicked my ass. Each one gets more and more intense as we grow closer to the game season. I feel ready to fall over as I head to my truck. All I want to do is get home and fall into bed.
“See you tomorrow,” one of the guys calls after me.
I stifle a yawn. “Yeah, see you,” I say back, not even paying attention to whom I’m speaking too.
It’s late, we practiced all day, and the sun has almost completely set.
I reach my truck and climb inside the cab. I pull my phone from my pocket and check for messages. I smile when I see a text from Thea. I open it and laugh. She sent a picture of herself holding Prue. I text back: Cute and seconds later my phone rings, and it’s Thea calling. “Are you on your way home?”
“Yeah,” I answer, stifling another yawn. “I’m really tired so I think I’m going to head straight to bed.”
“Okay …” There’s a long pause on her end, and then, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“What?” I ask, starting the truck and heading toward the exit.
“My stupid dad is parked out front. Can’t he catch a hint and disappear? No one wants him around.”
I instantly tense. “Is Cade home?”
“No,” she answers. “He took Rae out to dinner. It’s just Mom and me.”
Should’ve gotten that security system.
“Whatever you do, don’t let him in.”
I instinctively know, rather than see, that she rolls her eyes. “Yeah, he might be my sperm donor but I’m not letting him in the house. He can rot and die for all I care. Don’t worry, okay? When it comes down to it, the man’s a big chicken. He won’t do anything.”
“Thea—” I warn.
“Iloveyoubye,” she slurs and hangs up.
I sigh. “I love you too,” I say to the empty line, and toss my now silent phone on the passenger seat.
I try not to worry on my drive home, but it’s hard not to. Thea might not think that her father’s capable of anything, but I saw the look in his eye that night in the basement, and the man is unstable.
A person who has lost it all is the scariest kind out there, because they have nothing left to lose. There’s nothing holding them back from going off the deep end.
When I’m about twenty minutes from the house, I call Cade.
“What? This better be important?” he says when he answers.
“Are you home?”
“No, I’m out with Rae. We’ll be home soon.”
“How soon?”
“What the fuck is going on, Xander? You sound weird.”
I’m sweating now. It’s like a sixth sense has come over me that something bad has happened or is going to happen, and I’m powerless to stop it.
“Thea called me when I was leaving practice and she said your dad was parked out front. I have a bad feeling about this.”
Cade grows silent on the other end. “Shit,” he breathes out after a moment. “I’ll be home as soon as I can, but I don’t think I’ll be there for at least thirty minutes.”
“Fuck,” I curse. “I’ll be there before you. Hopefully, I’m freaking out for no reason.”
But my gut says I’m not.
“Drive faster,�
� Cade says and hangs up.
His parting words are enough to tell me he doesn’t think I’m crazy.
I just have to hope I can get there in time.
“Sorry, Prue, but you’re going to have to wait until Daddy gets home to go for your walk. He might be tired, but I’m not going out there with that psycho sitting in his car.”
I peer out the window for the hundredth time and sure enough my dad’s car is still parked by the curb right by our mailbox. I called the cops, but they were extremely unhelpful and said that as long as he was parked there and not disturbing anything then they couldn’t help me. If that isn’t insane then I don’t know what is.
My mom’s footsteps sound on the steps behind me, and I immediately turn away from the window. Too late, though.
“What were you looking at?” she asks, trying to see behind me and out the window.
She looks better than she has in a long time. Her hair is fuller and bouncy, her face isn’t so sallow, and her eyes have a brightness in them now. She looks happy.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. She gives me a look, so I quickly lie. “The woman across the street is watering her plants.”
Apparently, this explanation still isn’t good enough, because she pushes around me and moves the curtain to peer out. She immediately hisses and rears back like she’s been burned.
“What’s he doing here?” she seethes. “Why can’t he leave me alone?”
I snort. “Probably because he likes control and he’s lost all of it, so he’s trying to gain it back.”
She lifts her chin defiantly. “I’m going to talk to him.”
“No, Mom, please don’t.” I grab her arm, but she shakes out of my hold. “He’s not worth it.”
“I want him to sign the damn papers so I can be done with this.” She makes a cutting motion through the air with her arms
“That’s probably why he’s here. I’m sure getting those didn’t go over well.”
“He needs to let this go.” She reaches for the door.
“Mom,” I plead again. “Don’t.”
She doesn’t listen, and I let out an exasperated breath.
I step out on the front steps and watch her head to his car. When he sees her, he steps out and stalks forward, looming above her. I always thought he used his height to his advantage in trying to make us feel afraid. It’s funny, because Xander’s tall, but he’s never made me feel anything but protected.
“I want to talk to you about these. This is fucking bullshit,” he spits, holding out the stack of papers. “A divorce? We’re not getting a divorce. You’ve made your point, now come back home.”
“I’m not coming back home, Malcolm,” she says softly, crossing her arms over her chest.
Anger flares in his eyes. Beside me, Prue slips out the half open door and sits next to me.
“Get in the car,” he snaps. “We’re going home.” He grabs her arm, his fingers digging into her skin.
“No,” she argues. “I told you, I’m not going back. Sign the damn papers,” she snaps, fighting back as she tries to wiggle out of his hold.
I move down another step, edging closer and closer.
“Stupid, bitch, you—”
I’ve heard enough and I stalk over to where they argue by his car.
“Let her go,” I say coldly.
His head whips toward me and his nostrils flare. “You,” he hisses. “You caused this. You ruined everything.”
Before I see it coming, he backhands me across the face. My jaw throbs and my skin stings as my eyes water.
My mom lets out a squeak. “Go in the house,” she tells me.
“Not without you.” I grab her hand. To my dad, I say, “You need to leave.”
“Like hell.”
Mom and I start back for the house, our feet moving quick enough that we’re practically sprinting.
We’re not fast enough.
Before we can close the door he’s there, pushing his way through. I scream when he forces the door open and it rams into my back, shoving me into a wall. I fall to the floor, my head banging against the wall as I go down, and my mom looks at me with a horrified expression.
“Run!” I yell at her. He wants her, not me.
Thankfully, she does, taking off through the kitchen and around the corner. I pray that she can get into a room and barricade herself from him.
He spares me a glance as he takes off after her and that look? It promises a hell of a lot of hurt and pain.
I hear my mom scream, and I wince, but I have to pick myself up off the floor. This isn’t the best place to be.
I need to hide.
My whole body hurts from the fall, though, and now there’s a ringing in my ears from where he hit me.
My heart pounds like a vicious drum, like it’s counting down how many beats I have left and that terrifies me. This can’t be the end.
I crawl up the steps and drag my body into my bedroom.
“Phone,” I mutter. “Where’s my phone?”
Downstairs. It’s downstairs on the couch.
“No, no, no, no,” I chant.
I pick my body up off the floor and lock my door.
From somewhere in the house, I hear a scream again, and a bang that sounds all too much like a gun shot.
I drop to the floor and everything disappears.
Fear holds me prisoner the whole drive and my knuckles are white where I grasp the wheel. When I reach the house, I park half on the driveway and half on the street and immediately jump out of the truck. I was exhausted only an hour ago, but now my body is hard-wired with adrenaline, and I feel like I could take on anything.
It’s obvious that my gut instinct of something being wrong was, in fact, right.
Malcolm’s car is still here, but he’s not.
The tinkling of a dog collar has me looking down and I find Prue staring up at me, and that’s definitely not normal.
I take off running for the front door, which is open.
Each of my heartbeats seems to be chanting Thea, Thea, Thea and I know I have to get to her.
I pause, listening to the soft sounds of the house. Everything is eerily silent and that’s the scariest part and I hope to God I’m not too late.
I head down the hall and glance in the kitchen. A bowl is knocked on the floor and fruit is scattered around, but other than that, it seems undisturbed.
Further down the hall I go, my steps as quiet as possible.
I poke my head into the bathroom.
Empty.
The wave of panic grows even bigger inside me.
There’s only one room left.
The laundry room.
The door is cracked open slightly and I place my hand on the cool wood and push.
It swings open.
I brace myself for what I might find.
Malcolm Montgomery lies on the floor in a pool of blood and Lauren stands above him, the gun shaking in her hands. She raises it, pointing it at me, and I lift my hands in surrender.
“Lauren, it’s me, Xander,” I say softly. Her face is wet with tears, her hair matted from struggle, and there’s blood coming from her arm. I can’t tell whether it’s a cut or she was shot too.
“Is he dead?” she asks, her voice wobbling.
I bend down and the blood makes a squishing sound when I step in it. I’ve never been one to be queasy but my stomach is rolling.
I bend down and press my fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse. “He’s still alive for now.” I stand back up again and hold my hand out to Lauren. “Give me the gun.”
“I’m not going to go to jail, am I?” she sobs. “H-He came after me. I-I did what I had to do.”
“You’re not going to jail,” I tell her, even though I have no idea when it comes to this kind of thing. “Did he shoot you?” I point to her bleeding arm.
“I-I don’t remember,” she sniffles, and finally, thankfully, gives me the gun.
“Come on,” I tell her, trying to take her hand.
“You don’t need to stay in here.”
“I shouldn’t have gone outside,” she mumbles, chin shaking as she holds back tears. “He hurt Thea.”
My body goes cold. “Where is Thea?”
After walking in on this bloody mess I completely forgot that I haven’t found Thea.
“I don’t know,” she sobs. “She told me to run, so I did. I messed up again. I’m a bad mom. I never do the right thing. I should’ve protected her. I should’ve—” She buries her face in her hands and sobs and anything said after that becomes gibberish.
I give up trying to get Lauren out of the laundry room and my sole mission becomes finding Thea.
I drop the gun on the kitchen table and head upstairs, straight to her room.
The door is locked.
“Thea?” I bang on it, shaking the knob.
No sound.
Oh, God.
I feel like I might be sick, but I have to keep my head on straight. I go to my room, and the door is open, so is the one to the bathroom. I head straight through and grab the knob of the one leading into Thea’s room. If she was smart she locked this one too.
But the knob twists beneath my hand and I open the door to find Thea lying on the floor.
I rush to her, expecting to find her covered in blood, but she’s surprisingly unscathed.
I shake her slightly and her eyes flutter open. She doesn’t realize it’s me at first and screams, trying to get away from me.
“Thea,” I whisper her name, and she recognizes my voice. “Everything’s okay.”
All the fight goes out of her and she breaks down crying, crawling into my arms and wrapping her arms around me.
“I thought I was going to die,” she confesses against my neck and my heart stops.
Hearing the person you love say they thought they were going to die feels like a kick to the gut, coupled with the fact that she could have. I hope she knows I’m not letting her leave my sight ever again.
I wrap my arms around her and inhale the scent of her shampoo.
“I almost lost you,” I mumble. Tears burn my eyes. I can’t even remember the last time I cried, but if there was any moment that warranted tears it’s this one.
When Stars Collide (Light in the Dark #2) Page 22
