Tanner: Whoa. Quite the accusation, Liss.
Me: Don’t turn this around on me. You could have just told me.
Tanner: If there were something to tell, I’d tell you.
Me: I’m all ears!
I watch and wait for his response. My heart is in my throat and I can’t decide whether to scream or cry. Maybe both. It’s not that I want to be with Tanner. It’s more of a respect thing: you don’t screw your ex’s friend. It’s common knowledge. If he’s trying to get back at me for breaking up with him, then he deserves the asshole title.
The three little dots flicker below my last message. They flicker and flicker, then disappear. Then they reappear. Flicker, flicker, flicker. Gone again. Yeah, go ahead and try to backpedal on this one, buddy. I throw my phone against the couch, feeling the burn behind each of my eyes.
What am I doing? Am I looking for someone else to blame? A bandage to conceal the wound? Because that’s never worked before. All it does is hide the truth.
I can’t do this. It’s too much.
I change my clothes and leave before Aspen has a chance to come back and make up stories about who she was with last night. I want to know, but at the same time, I’m not sure I can handle it. No. I’m pretty sure I can’t. She just told me she was taking a guy break…so what is this?
The second I step outside, I realize I left my car at the bar last night. Fantastic. I’m also realizing I probably have ten parking tickets on my windshield too.
The sun hurts my eyes, maybe as a result of the beer last night. Sunglasses are in the car. And so are my cigarettes.
I didn’t see the Starbucks the other day when I was looking for somewhere to hide. Beautiful. So beautiful, I’m going to pretend there aren’t at least fifteen people in front of me as I pull out my phone to serve as a distraction. When I open my email, I see some Facebook notifications piling up. I’ve been actively avoiding social media due to the types of sympathetic messages that are probably lining my wall. It’s all waiting for me regardless.
I’ve always been a silent crawler on the Facebook pages of the deceased. Curiosity has always gotten the best of me when it comes to finding out why someone died and how much pain it’s brought others. Their walls are usually filled with prayers, apologies, and run-on sentences filled with how much they’re loved and will be missed—I just never thought I’d be the one who’d have to see and accept them all. I’ve been living in this dark hole for almost two weeks, and now I feel like I have to start making Blake’s ending more official. I should delete his email account and his Twitter page. Am I supposed to leave his profile active like it’s some kind of memorial? Every time someone leaves him a message on there, it’ll pop up in my feed. And for a second I’ll forget he’s dead.
It sounds like torture.
With my thumbs hovering over the display screen, debating whether or not I feel like dealing with it right now, a text pops up from Hayes.
Hayes: I’m peeling a parking ticket off of my windshield. Oops.
Felicity: I was afraid of that. Coffee?
Hayes: Jamaican?
Felicity: Not today.
Hayes: Regular with lots of caffeine would make me a happy man.
Felicity: See you in…ten people in front of me.
Which turns into an entire half hour. Thankfully the thought of seeing Hayes distracts me from Facebook, which in turn probably saves me from a waterworks display in the middle of Starbucks.
I step out of the shop to find Hayes parked out front. “Hop in, Blondie-locks. I’ll take you to your car.”
I hand him the coffees through the open window and let myself in. He’s dressed in slacks and a button down. A bit dressy for the unemployed. “Where are you off to looking all dapper?”
“Work,” he says, casually as if we didn’t have a conversation about him being on a self-imposed work hiatus. Taking a sip from his cup, he puts the car in drive and takes off down the street.
“I thought you were out of work?”
“I am, but I do some contract work for a small PI firm an old buddy runs.” He takes another sip, causing an awkward pause. “It’s temporary. Just until I figure out what I want to do.”
We’re stuck in the truck for at least five more stoplights, which gives me time for questions. “Why did you quit being a detective?”
“Sorry in advance, but you probably have a hefty parking ticket,” he laughs. He swallows hard and lifts his coffee from the cup holder.
I press my hand over his wrist. “Tell me.” He places his cup back down. “No more changing the subject. I’m not going to judge you. I burnt down my house, for God’s sake. You don’t seem to be judging me, so I can at least do the same for you.”
“Fires happen. You don’t know you started it. Stop blaming yourself.” He sounds upset, maybe even a little heated. “A kid lost their life because of me.”
The simplicity of his statement is like a sucker punch. His knuckles are white from the death grip he has on the wheel, and his jaw is tight, grinding back and forth. I regret forcing this out of him now. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.” I look out the window giving him as much space as I can given our confinement.
“I was on a case. A three-year-old kid had been abducted. The kidnapper was armed and traveling with an array of drugs. That’s all we still really know.” He inhales sharply and looks out the window like he’s taking a break. I don’t want to say anything. Or maybe I just don’t know what to say. I’m not even sure if he’s done explaining or just collecting himself. All I know is that I’m staring at the back of his head, not knowing where else to look.
With a startling honk from behind us, I mention the obvious. “The light is green.”
He turns his head forward and continues driving. “It took us a week to find the kid,” he begins again. “The asshole was playing with us, trying to throw us off. It worked. I followed the wrong trail. It was all a big game to this guy.” He looks over at me as we pull up to another stoplight. “I was literally five minutes too late. The kid was ditched on the side of the street, still alive when I got there, but the poor thing had been shot in the chest. Died in my arms a few minutes later. They still haven’t found the guy who did it.” He’s looking into my eyes as he tells me this. There’s nothing I can say. I place my hand over his knee, which I feel trembling beneath my grip. “I couldn’t face another case after that. So I cashed out my retirement, enough for a year of salary, and now I’m deciding if I’m cut out to be a detective, or if I want to try something else.”
How do you respond to that? “Do you like what you do—um, did?” I stumble.
“Loved it. Worked my ass off for seven years to get that job.” With a deep inhale he looks over at me briefly, and then back to the road. “Anyway, this is life, right? Just trying to survive one day at a time.”
We pull up to my car and there’s a spot in front where he’s able to pull in. There’s a big fat parking ticket on my windshield. I hop out of his truck, and he joins me in front of my car, reaching out in front of me to snatch it up before I do. “Well, this sucks.”
I try to take the ticket from his hands, but he holds it tightly. “I got this.” He slips it into his pocket and leans back on the hood of my car, pulling me toward him. “It’s the least I can do. Coming here was my idea.” His hands wrap around my back as he pulls me in closer. “Now I can call this a date. I’m paying for your parking ticket.” He grins. It’s like an aphrodisiac.
“I’ve been warned about people like you,” I tell him. “Always having a secret agenda with their nice-doings.” I chew on my lower lip, raising a brow with intentions of making his grin stay just as it is.
“My agenda is no secret.” He pinches his fingers around my chin then presses his lips into mine, allowing me to taste the sweet dark roast of his coffee.
I hear the slowing of an engine coming toward us and I look over my shoulder to see a cruiser pull up. They’re either here to give me another ticket or—I don’t think
PDA is prohibited. Regardless, my cheeks are burning. As the window of the cruiser opens, a strong-jawed, wide-eyed brute looking woman stares between the two of us. “Is this your car?” she asks.
“Yes ma’am,” I nod.
“If you don’t move your car, I’m booting it. You understand?”
“She’s leaving,” Hayes says, moving in front of me. He leans down into the window of the cruiser; his voice softens to the point where I can hardly hear him. “Helene, don’t you have something better to do right now?”
“Not like you,” she retorts, twisting her head around Hayes to look at me. She gives me a coy wink then rolls up her window, forcing Hayes to back up.
As he turns toward me, he waves her off over his shoulder.
“Know her?” I ask, laughing.
“Yeah. She’s worked for the police department for years. She’s a force you don’t want to reckon with.”
I unlock my car and Hayes opens the door for me. “I guess I better get going then.”
“Wait.” His hand encloses my upper arm, pulling me backward and leaving me with one last taste of his lips. “I’ll call you, Blondie-locks.”
* * *
Now that I’ve successfully wasted half the day, I have a little over an hour before I need to leave for work. I was hoping to clear the air with Aspen before I leave. But she’s currently singing in the shower. I suppose I would be too after such a busy night. Unless I was screwing my friend’s ex-boyfriend.
Actually, I wouldn’t do that at all, so…
I drop down on the couch and fumble with my phone until I end up back on Facebook, picking up where I left off earlier. I mindlessly scroll through my feed, deleting every message without reading it. Ignoring all of the sympathy remarks. I appreciate them, but I can’t look at any more. I click on Blake’s page next, expecting the worst. But to my surprise, there are only two comments; one from Aspen and one from Tanner. The one from Tanner says: you left your mark on my life, man. I’ll never forget you. Aspen’s says, “I’ll miss you, Blake. Rest in Peace.” I close the application as tears threaten to make their appearance once again and toss my phone onto the coffee table just as Aspen traipses out of the bathroom with a towel around her body and another wrapped around her hair. She clutches her chest, seemingly startled by my presence. “I didn’t know you were home.”
“Did you know I was here last night?” I come right out with it. I can’t stand this discomfort between the two of us. We’ve never had any issues before, and I hate this. Maybe it’s because we’re living together now. Or maybe it isn’t all about her any more. I don’t know.
“No, I figured you were out with your mystery guy when you didn’t come home after your shift,” she says, taking the towel off her head and wringing her hair out over the floor. I watch the water start to pool below her, losing sight of the point of this conversation. “I take it you heard some things last night,” she says with a crooked grin and one eye closed. The proud look of whatever she accomplished last night infuriates me.
“Aspen, I know you were with Tanner last night.” The words come out flat, almost like I don’t care who she was with any more. Not as much as I did last night when I was drunk, at least.
Her eyes widen, and she sighs, exasperated. “What are you talking about?”
She’s seriously going to make me drag this out of her. “I heard you moaning—with him last night.”
Her cheeks redden and she pulls her towel tighter around her body. “I was not with Tanner last night.” I guess that’s how this is going to be. She’s going to downright lie to me.
“Then who was it?” I ask calmly, which is amazing considering how angry I am. Why is she lying to me?
“You won’t tell me about your mystery man; why should I tell you about mine?” She folds her arms over her chest and leans back against the wall, giving me her I’m not budging unless you do look.
“I’m not telling you about my date because you’d just go run and tell Tanner. And that’s uncomfortable.” I stand up from the couch and walk toward her. “Why did you even tell him I had a date the other night? It’s none of his business.” Not that it should matter, but it’s just weird, and I don’t feel like he needs to know every little detail about my life right now.
Aspen tries the waterworks game, tears pooling in her eyes as her chin trembles. “Like I’ve said, I’ve been worried about you, and I know Tanner is worried about you too. So I’ve been talking to him, hoping we can figure out how to help you.”
“And then you slept with him?”
“No!” she cries. “You know, I can’t believe you won’t tell me anything. Throughout the past year, we’ve told each other everything, and now that Blake is gone, you’ve become this hermit who doesn’t want anyone to help you or be there for you. I can’t force you to turn back into the Felicity I love, but this Felicity is cold and hurtful. And no, it wasn’t Tanner in here last night. It was the guy who gave me my new fucking job. How do you think I got it?”
Oh God. “What?”
“Trust me, I didn’t want to sleep with that fucking hairy ape.” She makes her way into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Shit.
I guess everyone needs a moment of clarity. The one where you realize the world isn’t out to get you and it doesn’t revolve around you. I’ve made my friends out to be the bad guys, and all they’ve been is worried about me, texting each other to make sure I’m not doing something crazy or self-destructive.
I’m such an asshole.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MY SHIFT TONIGHT did not go by nearly as fast as last night’s. I thought—I hoped—Hayes might come back to visit, but that would look weird to Grant, considering he thinks Hayes is a journalist. He would definitely smell a rat.
I pull my phone out of my coat pocket and feel a little bummed to see there aren’t any missed texts or calls either. Not from Hayes or Tanner. I suppose I should probably apologize to Tanner for accusing him of sleeping with Aspen. I think it’s kind of weird that he didn’t just deny it all in the first place, but Tanner gets sensitive over dumb things sometimes. It’s probably his way of closing the door in my face and silently telling me to jump in a lake. I need to be alone tonight anyway. It’s been a couple of nights since I’ve looked at the stars or talked to Blake or begged for his forgiveness for something I’ll never truly be forgiven for. Regardless, it’s something I feel like I need to do every night.
I change in the restaurant bathroom, slipping into a pair of leggings and a long jersey. I pull my sweatshirt over my head and shut off the kitchen lights. I’m usually the last person to leave the restaurant at night since I like to organize everything for the next day, because I won’t be able to relax if it isn’t prepped perfectly before I leave.
My keys are in my hand as I make my way through the dark parking lot. My car is the only one left—kind of symbolic considering how I’ve felt for the past couple of weeks: alone…even with the sudden influx of attention. I feel like I’m in the middle of dark woods, with the trees crowding me, making it hard to find the right path. I could scream for help, but no one would hear me. So why bother? Imploding seems like the only option.
I hold the thought of being lost in the middle of the darkness where no one will hear my cries as I drive to the park. I find my usual spot in the grass, feeling the cool blades tickle the palms of my hands. Instant gratification sweeps through me as I find myself connected with the millions of stars, but it’s only seconds before the fire glows in front of me. I don’t know why it’s all I see when I look at the night sky now, but it could be Blake’s way of making sure I don’t forget. Or maybe it’s my screwed up mind making sure I don’t forget. I close my eyes, seeing the red, feeling the heat from the flames.
I speak softly, barely hearing my own words. “I’m sorry, Blake. I know I haven’t visited you yet—you know, in the cemetery. It’s just…I can’t bear to see your name, or the short time span your life lasted, or the words ‘lov
ing twin’ etched into the stone. I feel like we were only meant to be two in this world. It’s like you took half of my heart and my mind with you wherever you went. I had never imagined a moment I wouldn’t have you here with me. We were born on the same day; I just thought that we’d die on the same day, too.”
I wipe the forming tears, feeling heaviness in my chest. I want to get it all out—the guilt; the pain. Although, I don’t think it will ever happen. “Blake, it was my fault. I’m taking the blame. I should have felt you were home because we’re twins. Aren’t twins supposed to have that kind of crazy connection? Why didn’t we? I should have tried to save you. I miss you so much.” I pry open my wet eyes, the red haze in the sky slowly disappears into a shadowy darkness lit with a splattering of stars. I hope he heard me.
And I’m suddenly pretty sure someone else did, too…
The sound of metal clinking against metal chimes softly in the distance. I look to find a dog, hopeful of it being Lady. I’m quick to see it’s not. Instead, it’s one of those big dogs with the foam dribbling from its mouth. A St. Bernard, I think. The guy walking with it looks over at me, probably because I’m looking over at him. He squints into the darkness and walks toward me, so I turn back in the other direction, hoping he takes the hint. I wasn’t inviting you over. My heart thuds in my chest, and worry fills my gut.
Why worry didn’t consume me the night Hayes approached me in a dark park, I’m not sure. Right now, though, I have a bad feeling.
“What’s a pretty young lady like yourself doing alone in a dark park this late at night? Do you need help?” He’s calling me a young lady, and now I can see he’s in his forties, maybe. I’ve always been told I look way younger than I am, a solid reason for him to not approach me…unless he’s a psycho killer.
Oh, God. Please don’t be a psycho killer.
“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” I look away, wondering if there’s anyone walking in the distance. I don’t like the thought of being alone with this guy right now.
Red Nights Page 9
