I want to say he can’t. Today is mine and the kids’ day to try and get her back in our lives again and I don’t want him pushing her. But maybe having him there will help my case?
“Sure. Will Harm be okay here on her own?”
“She has to be at the studio in an hour anyway.”
“Don’t you have work, too?”
He shrugs. “I’ve been delegating and cutting back my time at the office since it’s summer. Plus, without Amelia around there’s not a lot of people I trust with my kids and Harm can only take them into the studio so many times a week.”
“You need time off anyway, you’ve worked yourself into the ground.”
He chuckles. “I guess I have. Why don’t you grab the kids and I’ll say bye to Harm?”
“Sure.” I head toward the kids’ rooms and tell them to get their shoes on before walking with them down the stairs, seeing Harm and Tris saying goodbye in the entryway.
“Eww,” Clay mutters under his breath.
“Right?” I say to him with a brow raised. “Get a room.”
Tris laughs and places one last kiss on Harm’s lips before she climbs into the rust bucket she owns.
I cringe at the squeaking of the door opening and closing. “How long until you buy her a new car?” He points to a brand-spanking-new yellow beetle in the driveway and I laugh. “Won’t take it, will she?”
“Nope.”
Harm has always been bad at taking gifts if they cost money. In college she used to insist she was paying for dinner sometimes because one of us would pick up the bill the time before. We didn’t mind one bit but she always did.
When everyone is buckled into my SUV, I start the drive to the other side of town.
“I presume you got an address,” Tris states loudly over Izzie singing the song on the radio.
“I did.”
“Do I want to know how?”
I shake my head, the idea of how I got it sending a sour feeling through my taste buds. “You do not.”
He laughs. “You know, you’re pretty shady for a lawyer.”
“Hey, I didn’t do anything, my hands are clean.”
“Mmmhmm,” he hums and the conversation turns onto trivial things like surfing and my family, avoiding topics that would weigh our minds down.
As we get farther and farther on the north side of town, the houses start to turn derelict, the streets littered with garbage. I turn down a street and pull into the lot of a block of apartments, staring up at the brick structure with graffiti on the outside.
“What the…” Tris has the same expression on his face as I do as he stares at the building in horror.
“Why are we stopping?” Izzie asks innocently.
Tris ignores her as he adds, “There’s no way this is where she’s living now. It can’t be.”
I park and climb out of the car before looking around us at the area she’s chosen to move into. My protective instincts kick in as Tris climbs out of the car and carries Izzie, not putting her down. I walk with Clay by my side to the front doors of the building, hearing shouting coming from inside before a woman pushes the door open with such force that it crashes against the wall. I catch it before it closes and hold the door open for Tris, Izzie, and Clay. Tris shoots me a look that shows he’s thinking exactly the same thing as me: we need to get her out of here.
We hear more shouting coming from inside an apartment we pass on the first floor and Izzie cuddles into Tris as he growls, “This is ridiculous, I’m dragging her home if she won’t leave.”
The word “home” turns my stomach. His home isn’t hers, she made that abundantly clear, so I don’t say anything more as we reach the third floor and find apartment 7B.
The door is a dirty off-white with the paint peeling in places. It’s definitely seen better days, as has the rusty number and letter telling us we have the right apartment. It’s in front of me plain as day and yet I’m still wishing Holland's got it wrong; she can’t have been living here for the last week.
“Daddy, I don’t like it here,” Izzie moans from his chest when we hear another shout.
“I know, pumpkin, we won’t be long. I promise.” Tris rubs her back and shoots a smile down at Clay who has so far stayed silent, taking in the place through wide eyes.
I lift my hand and bang a beat on the door. The wood vibrates and I can tell all it’d take is a hard kick in the right place to break in, but I continue knocking before stopping and listening.
“I don’t think Amelia’s here, Dad,” Clay finally pipes up, making Tris look at me.
I shrug and knock again. “Amelia, it’s Nate. Open the door.”
When we don’t hear anything, I tell Clay to tell her that he’s here. She won’t be able to say no to him.
He hesitates before saying, “Hi, it’s Clay, and Izzie is here, too.”
Everyone waits on bated breath but no one more than me. I’m trying not to show my frustration and worry that’s raging on the inside, but I can’t help the deep noise in my throat from slipping out as I bang on the door again. “Lia, open the door!”
“Alright, kids, I don’t think Amelia is here. Let’s go.” He ushers Clay ahead of him down the hallway toward the stairs but turns around and gives me a hard stare for losing my shit in front of the kids, or at least that’s what I think his look means. “I’ll meet you in the car.”
I hand him my keys and wait until they disappear before knocking again and leaning my forearms against the doorframe. “Lia, if you’re in there, please come to the door.” It’s like everyone in the building has gone silent for this moment, waiting to seeing if she’s going to ignore me like she has done for the last two weeks. “If you’re not going to come to the door, then I’m going to talk anyway and you’re going to listen. Tris is here, by the way. If he didn’t know I liked you before, he does now.” I lean my forehead against the rough surface of her door. “Do you realize how much this is killing me? And now it’s going to be worse knowing you live in this… shithole. I don’t know what possessed you to move into a place like this, but if you need money or…” I lift my head and push off the doorframe, still talking to the door as if it’s her. “I dunno, something, anything, then you knew you had people you could come to. Instead you choose to stay locked away from everyone that loves you.”
I look down the hallway before turning back to the door. “I’m trying to be understanding because I know deep down in my gut that you’re going through something, but if it’s something I can help with, then let me help you. Let me be there for you, because I sure as hell want to be.”
I take a deep breath, my gaze focusing on the door handle like it’s my lifeline, waiting for it to move. When it doesn’t, I run my hands through my hair. “You can’t leave it like this, you can’t pretend like I don’t exist—like Tris and the kids don’t exist. If you want out of our lives then at least have the decency to tell us instead of moving out and cutting contact.” My mind zeros in on the message I got a few days ago and I laugh mirthlessly but keep my voice even and low. “If that’s the way you want it then I’d appreciate it if you didn’t send me messages telling me you miss me, and instead tell me we’re done. But I want you to know I want more than anything for it not to be over. I want you to lean on me, Lia, because that’s what people do when they’re together. I want you to lean on me because I love you.”
Isn’t it funny how one eight letter phrase can both make your heart feel like it’s being ripped in half and mended at the same time?
I spent all day yesterday cooped up in my childhood bedroom, the same as I have for most of today.
She still hasn’t followed me and I don’t get the same prickling feeling I do back home when I can feel her watching me. She’s not here—my plan didn’t work.
I know deep down she’s not going to come back here; there’s a reason she’s staying there and not coming back here, but I can’t work out what it is.
My cell pings with another message from Tris and I don’t
even bother to look at it. There’s no point because I won’t answer it and put him or the kids in any more danger than they’re already in. Especially now I know what happened after I left. She was committed to a mental health ward and stayed there for a year. That means she was unstable, but is she now?
I can’t help thinking she is, because any normal person wouldn’t do what she’s doing.
Standing up from my bed, I walk over to the window, watching the sunset in the distance. It doesn’t take long for my eyes to be drawn to the house again. I don’t know how long I’ve stayed here and stared at the house, but I know I need to go back in there one final time.
Tonight is the cutoff point and if she hasn’t reached out, Dad will be booking flights for us to catch in a couple of days.
If she is here and she sees me going in there then she’ll make herself known, of that I’m sure.
My feet are moving and before I know it, I’m standing on the porch of the house opposite ours and ringing the doorbell. I instinctively know I’m not going to get an answer so I try to open the door, it creaking under the pressure. I’m surprised when it opens considering it doesn’t look like anyone has been here in a while.
Stale air greets me and I wave my hand in front of my face as I squint to try and see through the darkness surrounding me. The curtains are closed, furniture covered in sheets. They haven’t lived here for a long time. The thought rolls through my mind, but that doesn’t stop me from stepping toward the staircase, my hand gripping the rail that’s covered in dust as I walk up the stairs.
I haven’t been up these stairs since the last time I checked on her.
My breathing turns into pants and I will myself to keep it together as I get to the top of the stairs and to the last door on the right.
It doesn’t matter how many times I squeeze my eyes shut and wish to go back to that night, nothing I ever do works—it doesn’t change the outcome and it won’t bring her back.
I take a deep breath before I push the door open and step inside, a sob bubbling up when I see her name on the wall in pink letters—Avery—and the white cot with the mobile above it, gently swaying from the movement of the door being opened.
Managing to make it to the rocking chair in the corner of the room before my legs give way, I crumble down into it, letting all of the emotions out I’ve kept locked away for all of this time. I didn’t realize I was doing it, but now I’m back here, I understand I was trying to cover my wound instead of letting it heal in the open.
I never should have run away all those years ago, but they say everything happens for a reason, and had I not left, I wouldn’t have met Tris and the kids, or… Nate.
God, Nate.
What must he think of me? I up and left without a word—he doesn’t even know where I live.
Pulling my knees to my chest, I rest my chin on them and stare at the cot, wondering how my life could have been different had she not found where I escaped to. I could be playing with the kids, laughing with Nate, eagerly both awaiting and hating the next surprise he had in store for me. But instead I’m here, hoping to find answers I’m not sure can ever be retrieved.
My gaze moves around the room as I stand up and frown, wiping the tears from my face. In here is nothing like downstairs, in fact it’s the opposite. There’s not one spec of dirt.
Has she been coming back here to clean this room?
My fingers trail over the side of the cot, not picking up any dust but being this close to where Avery used to sleep has sobs bubbling back up my throat.
Everything from that night flows through my mind: giving her a bath, singing lullabies to her, making her coo, and dressing her in a pink onesie. My fingers touch my lips as I remember placing a kiss on the top of her head, her soft baby hair tickling my cheek.
She was so full of life when I placed her in her cot, running my palm down her front as she started to doze off. It was only thirty minutes later I checked on her and she was still fast asleep, but most importantly—she was still breathing.
Why is the world so cruel? How could it happen so fast and for no reason whatsoever?
I squeeze my eyes shut as the sounds of her screams reverberate around my head. I could hear them from my bedroom only minutes after I entered it, ten minutes after last checking on baby Avery.
My legs give way as the tears stream down my face, nothing able to stop them. My knees hit the floor as I stare at the rocking chair.
I should have been sitting in here watching her. I would have been able to see her take her last breath and bring her back to life.
Rationally I know it’s not my fault, but that won’t ever stop me from blaming myself for not being in here with her.
Oh God, she died alone. She died alone.
“Dad’s on the late shift so I thought we could have a movie night.”
I turn around on the sofa, my blanket slipping off my lap as a grin spreads on my face.
“I missed our movie nights,” I tell Mom.
“Me too!” She sits down next to me, dropping a bowl of popcorn on my lap as she snuggles under the blanket with me. “What are we thinking?” she asks, grabbing the remote. “Rom-com? Horror?”
“What about something with superheroes in?” I ask, not wanting to be reminded of love in the rom-coms or to have the memories of Nate walking in on me while I watched a horror movie.
“Superheroes it is!” She clicks on one, and we’re not ten minutes in when she says, “So… tell me about Nate.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, taking a deep breath, knowing I won’t be able to get away with saying nothing.
“He’s… amazing,” I sigh. “Thoughtful, great with the kids and… romantic.”
“Yeah?”
I nod, my eyes focused on nothing in particular. “He took me for a picnic under the stars.” I groan at the memory of his food. “He’s a fantastic cook, like orgasmic.”
Mom chuckles. “He’s a chef?”
“No.” I shake my head, popping a few kernels of popcorn into my mouth. “Lawyer.”
“Prosecution?” Her voice is hopeful.
“Defense.” My voice is low as I turn toward her. “Dad probably wouldn’t be happy, but I know Nate would win him over.” I smile a secret smile, knowing there’s no way anyone could dislike Nate. He’s too nice, too addictive.
“That’s the look.” I raise my brow at Mom as she points her finger at me. “The look of love.”
My eyes flutter closed and I swallow before answering, “I love him more than I ever thought possible.”
Mom’s hand lands over mine, bringing my attention back to her. “Then why didn’t you tell him what was going on, sweetie?”
“I thought I was protecting him. If I could go back and tell him that first night, then I would.”
We’re both silent for a beat until Mom reaches for some more popcorn but comes up empty. She stands up, signaling she’s going to get some more and I pause the movie.
My gaze roves around the living room, over the open fireplace and the brown leather chair Dad always sits in. Images of me as a little girl sitting on his lap there while we watched cartoons on a Saturday morning together and eating our weight in cereal assault me.
“Hello?” I tilt my head as I hear Mom’s voice in the kitchen. There’s a beat and then she says, “I’m her mother, and who would you be?” Has she answered my cell? “Oh! Tristan, it’s nice to hear your voice after everything we’ve heard about you… yeah she’s here…” Her footsteps near and I jump off the sofa, not believing she’s answered my cell. “I know, she’s got some things going on at the moment. I’m sure she hasn’t been ignoring you on purpose.” She raises a brow at me when she walks back into the living room. “I’ll hand you over to her.”
She holds the cell out to me and I stare at it like it’s a bomb that could detonate at any second.
Wiggling it at me, I finally take it from her and put it to my ear.
“Tris?”
“A.” I hear his reli
eved breath come over the line and I immediately feel guilty. I haven’t spoken to him since I moved out over a week ago, not for the lack of trying on his part; he’s called me at least twice a day. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“It’s good to hear yours, too,” I reply, feeling a lump build up in my throat as I start pacing on the rug that sits between the TV and sofa. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah… well no, not really.”
My heartbeat accelerates, my pulse spiking. “What’s happened?” I ask, my voice loud and jarring. “Are the kids okay?”
“Ah, yeah. They’re good… missing you, but good.” A relieved breath rushes out of me. “I’m actually calling to ask if you can watch the kids for me tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” I ask, flicking my eyes to the front door as it opens and Dad walks in. He stops when he sees me, concern flashing over his features. “I’m not in the state right now—”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, A. Mom’s in Japan again with Edward and Nate can’t look after them because he’ll be in court with us.”
“Court?” I ask, knowing I’m talking in syllables and not full sentences.
“Yeah… okay, let me start from the beginning.” Dad squeezes my shoulder and sits down next to Mom, both of them observing me. “Harmony has been going to the hospital to cuddle babies.” I nod, knowing this already because he told me a few weeks back. “There’s this one baby, and fuck, A. We’re attached to him but they’re trying to put him in foster care... we can’t have him go in the system.” Tears burn the back of my eyes. “He was addicted to the drugs his mom was taking when she was pregnant. He’s already had a rough life and he’s only a few months old. We want to fight for him to be our son.”
I make a noise in the back of my throat, not able to get full words out as images of Avery lying in the cot across the road six years ago flash in my mind. She was so helpless, only a baby who never knew her life was going to end that night. She’d be a little older than Izzie now, and the thought crushes me. What would she look like? Sound like? Act like?
Fighting Our Way (Broken Tracks Series Book 2) Page 27
