“Have you considered talking to someone? A professional? You’re going through a traumatic time and trying to pretend like it’s not happening.” He must see the growing anger in my eyes when he stops talking…his adam’s apple does this little dance into the crook of his neck. “That came out wrong. I mean, you need time to grieve and heal. It’s a lot for anyone to wrap their head around. Do you really think rushing back to work and dating is the right thing to do?” My tension eases a little. At least I’ve lost the urge to hit him. “Liss, look. I love you. I care about you. You may not be mine to worry about any more, but I always will, whether you like it or not.” Blake used to call me Liss; that’s why Tanner does it. They’re the only two. Now he’s the only one. And I don’t really want the reminder right now.
“Why did we break up?” I know it’s completely out of left field and has nothing to do with what we’re talking about, but why was Blake so headstrong on us not being together? I want to know the truth. I want to know every single goddamn truth right now.
“You broke up with me,” he says, like it’s such a simple explanation.
“But why did Blake not want us together?” For the number of times I begged Blake to talk to me about it, and for the number of times I sat down, attempting to engage in a heart-to-heart with him, he would never say more than Tanner wasn’t good for me, that he had a bad reputation with the women he’s dated. It worried him. I questioned him until I was blue in the face, but that was all I ever got.
“He thought I had some kind of track record,” he says. I keep my eyes locked on him with intensity, not bowing down or backing away from this answer I’ve wanted for so long. Tanner won’t look at me. He just tears away at a napkin. “He thought I just wanted to get with you…like that…too.”
“And did you?” I ask directly.
“Of course not,” he says, sounding pained. “Blake didn’t want me touching his sister. It was a very brotherly thing for him to feel.”
“It always just seemed like there was more to it than that.” Blake didn’t act out of haste, and he hardly got worked up about anything.
“It didn’t matter; I fell in love with you. And rather than ruffling Blake’s feathers, you broke up with me. I get it. He’s your brother and family comes first. It just really sucked for me.”
It sucked for me too, but something in my gut told me to listen to Blake at the time. I had just moved home from school when this happened; it wasn’t like I was looking to settle down or anything. I was getting my life together and starting my career. Tanner was a great boyfriend, but focusing on the restaurant made it easy to walk away from anything else that took up my time. Afterward, I didn’t allow myself to feel the pain from the breakup. I just filled the void with work. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to ruin your friendship with Blake, and rather than prolong something that would likely end the way it did anyway, I decided not to drag things out. I thought I was doing the noble thing.”
Tanner leans back in his seat and folds his hands behind his head.” You never had hope for us?” I have to look away from him because I hate that I’m being forced to hurt him all over again.
“I was starting at the restaurant; I was focused on that, and Blake was upset. I didn’t really see things going too far between us. I’m sorry.” And I really am. Maybe if the situation were different, and I was older, and Blake hadn’t made such a big deal about it, I would have considered the future. But it didn’t happen like that.
“You never did take my feelings into consideration,” he says, coldly. “You only cared about Blake’s feelings. Maybe you saved my friendship with him, but it ruined us.” He leans forward, now grabbing his coffee, his fingers squeezing around the cup so hard the lid pops off. “I loved us, Liss. We were so good together. I mean, do you know what I’d do to relive that night in Newport?”
The memory of Newport tugs at my heart just a little. It was our first real date. God, was it awkward at first. After being friends for so long, we knew it would be a risk—trying to take things to the next level, especially while hiding it from everyone. I remember sitting in the front seat of his car, squeezing my hands together so tightly my palms began to sweat. I kept my gaze out the window the entire ride, but when we got there it was like a switch flipped. He jumped out of the car to open my door, offered me his hand, and that was it. That was all it took to make me realize how right it felt. I don’t think he let go of my hand until we were seated in a little restaurant overlooking the water. Even then, he held my hands across the table until the food came. “Did you know how long I’d been crushing on you?” he asks. “I’d wanted you for so long.”
“I guess I always had an idea. The way you looked at me sometimes made me wonder what was going on in your head.” And the fact that he’s incredibly good-looking didn’t hurt. I was flattered and likely turned beet red every time my eyes caught his. But I always thought he was way out of my league. In high school, he was in with the jocks and I was one of the intellectuals, and I had little desire to party. I thought those images followed us through college and past that.
“I can’t tell you how many times I had imagined what it might be like to wrap my arms around you, and feel your lips on mine,” Tanner says. “I knew I was lucky to experience that even if it was just for a little while, though.” His words make me a bit uncomfortable.
We’re not together; I feel like we shouldn’t be talking about our lips.
“You made it kind of clear that night in Newport,” I laugh, softly. Nervously. Embarrassing as it was, that was my first kiss. I didn’t know what I was doing…but he definitely did. I almost forgot how to breathe when he leaned in, lightly pressing his lips against mine. His mouth tasted like mint and felt cool against my lips. His fingers swept across my cheek, keeping the kiss gentle. I wanted more, but that was all he offered that night. He wanted to mark the night as a transition from friends to whatever we were becoming. Things felt so perfect, which is why we agreed to keep it our secret for as long as we could. Everything was more than amazing for those months; it was a summer filled with romance and secrecy…hot sex, and everything else that came along with it.
“We should have kept us a secret,” he says, almost under his breath. At the time, it felt good to have a secret. It felt naughty and exciting. I’ve always followed the rules and never stepped out of line, so I enjoyed the adrenaline rush I got when Blake, Mom or Dad were around, and I knew something they didn’t.
But as summer ended, we decided we didn’t want to hide it any longer…though maybe that was just me. We had dinner with Blake, Mom, and Dad. I remember Tanner grabbing my hand under the tablecloth, then pulling it up on top of the table as if presenting our secret. Everyone’s eyes flashed to our intertwined fingers. “The truth was always bound to come out,” I tell him. I know he agrees. Maybe denial is easier to work with though.
Blake’s expression was the first thing I noticed, how the angry red filled in the spaces between his freckles. “We love each other,” I’d said, hoping it would make Blake feel better. It didn’t. Mom was thrilled. She bounced out of her seat, throwing her arms around both of us. Dad reached out for Tanner’s hand with a proud smile. But Blake got up from the table, shoved his chair halfway across the room and left the house. Tanner and I stayed together for another six months, but things grew less and less comfortable as the year mark came upon us.
As much as I loved Tanner, I loved Blake more, and for whatever reason he wasn’t clear about, I knew it wasn’t okay with him. I trusted him and knew he always had my best interest at heart. Plus, my relationship with Tanner would have ruined their friendship, and I couldn’t bear that guilt. So I broke things off.
“I’m sorry Blake couldn’t see it your way—our way. You understand why I had to do what I did, right?” I ask.
Tanner shrugs. “I’m not sure I have a choice. He was your brother. I’m just glad we were able to continue our friendship without any hard feelings, especially seeing as we only had a ye
ar left with him.” He sounds choked up as he explains it like it still hurts him. “I guess we never know what the future holds.”
“Yeah.” I place my hand over his. “Thanks for looking out for me right now. I appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it, I know it’s what Blake would have wanted.”
Actually, Blake would want to be alive right now.
That’s exactly what I want, too.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IT’S BEEN A WEEK. I’ve questioned everyone and everything. I want to hide. I just want it all to go away.
And yet, I need to know.
I’ve called the police station a number of times, begging for information. But I’m a suspect in an ongoing case, so they won’t tell me anything. I have no idea what’s going on. I haven’t even started to heal. With no real answers, I can’t move on. I can’t even make a claim with my insurance company. All that remains of the thousands of dollars I sunk into my house is a pile of wood and ash and a destroyed life.
This has given me the motivation to go back to work. Grant has carefully avoided me. It’s not like I hold him responsible; he’s just the poor schmuck that told me the truth. But I get the whole fear of being too close to a loose cannon. Right now, the only people who aren’t afraid of me, angry with me, or avoiding me entirely are Mom and Dad. So I’ve slept on their couch for the past week.
I keep asking myself how much lower until I hit rock bottom. Maybe that’s the definition of hell, and I’m already there, which is why I only see red in the sky at night. Maybe it’s a warning. The red nights will eventually turn into my final destination.
I’ve gone through book after book the past few days, leaning on any form of escape my mind can journey on. Mom is worried about me. She hovers and watches me like I’m helpless. She wants me to see a therapist. She thinks someone out there can help me through this—pull me through to the other side, as she so nicely puts it. I don’t know how many sides there are, but Blake won’t be on any of them. She thinks looking at old photographs will pull me out of this “funk”—another one of her words that just doesn’t capture the feeling.
“How’s your book?” she asks, leaning over me to look at the cover. “TAG? Is that some kind of romance novel or something?”
“Something like that. It’s pretty good.”
The knit blanket pulled around me tightens over my lap as she sits beside me, placing three albums down on the table. “If you want to take a break from reading, I found some more albums,” she says. With a crumpled ball of tissue in one hand, she pulls the top album onto her lap, carefully opening the cover. The creaking and crackling of the binding sounds in my ears, pulling my attention from my book to the blindingly fluorescent clothes Blake and I are wearing. “Remember we went to Maine for the week here?” She points to the picture and I nod, unable to talk. “And here’s one with the three of you.” Tanner went with us on that trip.
“Mom, I don’t want to look at these right now.” She closes the book, the pages slapping together in unison. “I’m sorry. It’s too soon.”
With gentle hands, she places the album back over the other two and turns to me, taking my hands into hers. “Who do you think did it, Felicity?” It’s the first time she’s asked me this. I don’t know if it was a matter of her not wanting to know, or her having her own opinions, but she hadn’t brought it up until now. “The fire, I mean.”
I don’t stop to think of an appropriate answer. “Me,” I tell her.
“You think you purposely started the fire?” she asks. The words sound muddled coming out of her mouth.
“I don’t think it was purposeful. I think they’re wrong and it wasn’t arson.” I’m not sure if that’s what I really think, but it’s easier to blame myself.
“Dear, your phone has been ringing on the counter for days. Don’t you think you should answer it? Your friend Hayes is probably worried.” Dad holds my phone up in the entryway of the kitchen. “And Aspen has sent you at least a dozen text messages. I haven’t read them, but they keep popping up.”
I reach my hand out for the phone and Dad tosses it over to me. I scroll through Aspen’s texts, each one a plea for me to call her. There are some texts from Hayes, too—even a couple of apologies…but for what? I’m the one who told him to leave. I deserved every word he said to me. He also says he needs to speak to me as soon as possible. Apparently he has some explanations, whatever that means.
I still can’t shake what Tanner said. Why else would he be searching for so many new suspects unless he was trying to take the focus off of himself?
It’s not possible. I can’t be that poor of a judge of character.
I respond to Hayes’s last text:
Me: Explanations?
Hayes: Will you meet me somewhere?
Me: Rasta Man Coffee in twenty?
I’m pretty sure this is a stupid idea, but since I feel like I’m banging my head against a wall trying to find the truth, and my life has already fallen apart, I don’t have much to lose.
Hayes: Ja-mai-can me crazy. See you in twenty.
Even though I’ve been the complete antithesis of “happy,” no matter how corny his jokes are, I still manage to laugh a little. I reach for my sweater and drop my phone into my pocket. With tunnel vision to the answers awaiting me, I make my way across the room.
“Where are you going, honey?” Mom asks, taking my tear-filled blanket from the couch and folding it neatly over her arms. “Are you going to meet with this Hayes?”
“Yes.” I press up on my toes, looking into the mirror over the mantle, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I won’t be long.”
“Didn’t Tanner warn you about this man, Felicity?”
I turn to face her as I take my purse from the coat-hook. “Mom, I’m questioning everyone right now. I’ll be fine.”
“Want me to come with you?” Dad asks, shouting from the TV room.
“Dad, no. I’m fine. I’m a big girl.”
* * *
The pit in my stomach grows heavier as I near the coffee shop. I see his truck parked across the street and at this moment, I want nothing more than to believe Hayes, to be with him and to have the support from him that I’m so desperate for right now.
I walk into the sound of steel drums and find a different guy with dreads dancing behind the counter. Hayes is sitting at a table in the corner. He doesn’t turn to acknowledge me.
I pull a chair out beside him and sit down, placing my purse on my lap. “Hi,” I say, feeling a bit mousy and uncomfortable.
He turns to me; the look of fear is encompassing the green in his eyes. The hair on his chin is darker and thicker than the last time I saw him and he has dark, puffy circles under his eyes. Did I do this to him? “I know what you’re going through. I know what it’s like to think that everyone around you is your enemy—especially if you have people filling your head with bullshit.”
“Tanner said you tipped the police off, which led to questioning for Aspen and him.” I don’t know what I want to hear, but maybe if he at least admits to it, I’ll feel a tiny bit better.
“Didn’t you want my help? The PI firm I work for sends reports over to the police department. We talked about this.” We did.
“What did you find?”
He takes a sip from his water bottle and presses into the back of his seat, one leg now outstretched beside me. “When you have a past with someone, one with a less than positive history as Blake warned you, and the person is still current in your life, they need to be questioned—not always as a suspect, but they just might have information that could be helpful to the case. Aspen and Tanner were simply being questioned as friends of the victim—you.” This isn’t how Tanner made it sound. The anger and apprehension in his voice made me feel like the questioning was more invasive, more accusatory. “If you don’t want my help any more, just tell me, and I’ll stop. It was never my intention to cause you more stress.”
I didn’t think more stress
was even possible.
“I just feel like I can’t trust anyone right now,” I tell him. “Like you said, I’m scared. I feel alone. I can’t sleep. I don’t eat. Most days I can hardly breathe. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” I feel my chest ache and I start to tremble—a sign of approaching sobs. The tear ducts behind my eyes are reprogrammed and uncontrollable. I hardly ever cried before the fire. Now, my emotions are all over the place and I feel crazy. My eyes well up, and it makes Hayes visibly crumble.
He scoots his stool closer to mine and wraps his arm around my shoulders, kissing my temple. “Okay. So let’s say you don’t trust me. I’m okay with that for now. I think trust should be earned and in some situations we need to prove ourselves a little more. I want to help you, but I’m not going to force myself into your life. I don’t want to make things harder for you. I can simply be the private investigator you need for this case and we can re-visit us when the case is closed. It’s up to you.” He sweeps a loose curl around the back of my ear, looking at me with sincerity. “Which means in about thirty seconds, I’m walking out of this coffee shop. If you need my help or you just need me, you know how to find me. No hard feelings either way.” I can see he doesn’t exactly mean what he’s saying. His words sound rehearsed. And forced.
Every part of me wants to say, Wait. I need you. I don’t want to be alone any more. But there’s the little voice in my head, Tanner’s voice, telling me to watch my back.
I don’t say anything when Hayes stands up and tosses his bottle into the bin. I don’t say anything when he places his hand on my shoulder briefly as he walks by. I don’t say anything as he walks out the door or past the window. I can’t.
I want to. But nothing’s coming out.
I leave the shop and find a quiet corner at the end of the block where I pull out my second to last cigarette. The thought of buying another pack stresses me out, and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to quit cold turkey, especially right now. Hayes was supposed to help with that, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen.
Red Nights Page 16
