I light the thing, inhaling so sharply the burn reaches all the way down to my stomach. I close my eyes and enjoy the calm it brings. But it’s only temporary.
I have to do something. I can’t just keep fighting to survive each day. I’m afraid of sleep. I’m afraid to be awake. I don’t trust anyone.
This is ridiculous.
* * *
Another week. No answers. No calls from the detective on the case. Aspen has stopped texting me. Hayes has left me alone like he said he would, and even Tanner has been quiet. They’re all slowly disappearing from my life, just like I wanted. Considering I’m moving into my new apartment today, I probably won’t talk to Mom and Dad much either now. Not that I want to cut them out of my life, but the hovering and the smothering have become too much.
“I really don’t want you to leave, sweetheart. It’s too soon,” Mom says. It’s been five weeks—not a long time at all. But I have to start somewhere. I cannot sleep on their couch any longer. My back is aching and the bags under my eyes have doubled in size. I need my own space. I need to try and put my life back together.
“Honey, it will be good for her,” Dad says to Mom as he lays his arm around her shoulders. “She’s going to be fine.” I wonder if they said that when I bought my house a couple of years ago. I wonder if they ever imagined it would burn down, taking Blake with it. I can’t say I blame Mom.
“As soon as I have everything set up, I’ll have you over for dinner and you’ll see I’m okay,” I tell her. “I need this, Mom. For me.”
She ducks out from Dad’s arm and reaches out for me, wrapping her arms around me tightly. “I’m proud of you for being so brave. You know we’re only a phone call away.” I’m almost twenty-six. This is a conversation for a newly turned eighteen-year-old going off to college. But I get it. Blake’s gone. I’m their only child.
I’m all they have left now.
I give Dad a quick hug and grab the bags I’ve accumulated. I’ve had rental furniture delivered to my new apartment over the past week, and I’ve spent hours every morning for the past few days setting everything up, making it habitable. It’ll take time to make the place mine, seeing as I have no pictures, artwork, or personal belongings. But it’s a start.
The restaurant is in downtown Providence, so I decided to move to the East Side, like Hayes and Aspen. They have the right idea. Everything is at my fingertips there, and there are always people around. Plus, the apartment is a block away from the park, and it just feels right.
The second I make my way inside, I lock the five deadbolts, cross the chain and fall heavily against the inside of the door. Sealing myself off from the world is the most freeing thing I’ve done in weeks…and yet, I’ve never felt so alone.
I drop my bag on the couch and pull out my new laptop. It’s the one item I didn’t feel guilty about purchasing; I’ve needed a new one for a couple of years anyway. I’m trying to hold out on buying the rest of the things I need until the insurance company comes through. At this rate though, who knows how long that will take. They told me I’d have to wait until the investigation is over. I’m certainly not holding my breath.
At least I have the Internet. It’s been keeping me company and aiding me in my research on arson. I’ve been obsessing over it. And now that I finally have a more powerful connection, I’m going to really dig in. A couple of weeks ago I submitted paperwork to Blake’s email provider, explaining his death and the reason I need access to his account. They asked me to send proof of my relationship to Blake and said once they received it, it would take ten to twelve business days to get a response with his login information. My patience is wearing thin.
I open up a search engine and type in Blake’s webmail domain. I’ve already attempted this a couple of times using various sequences of his name with different numbers; his birthday—our birthday, the last four digits of his phone number, our house number. But nothing works. How do I not know what my twin brother would use for a password?
After spending another hour trying out various combinations, I give up. I open my email instead and find a slew of store sale advertisements and reminders to pay my bills. I scan over the bills due and stop when I see the statement for the phone bill. Why didn’t I think of this sooner?
I log into my account and pull up last month’s statement. Blake’s phone was on my plan because it was cheaper for him that way. He just gave me the money every month. I have the payments automatically deducted from my bank account.
I completely forgot about it…
My pulse flutters as I scroll closer to April 2nd, the day of the fire. I don’t know what I’m expecting to find, but anything could be something right now.
There are a number of inbound and outbound calls that day. A handful of them are from Tanner and another handful from Aspen. Not exactly unexpected.
I guess this isn’t going to help…I can only see phone numbers. I print out the phone records and put them in a folder anyway. Maybe someone else can make sense of them.
I open another browser and type in Blake’s name, curious about what might come up. He has way more social media accounts than I was aware of. I begin clicking through all of them, finding most to be private because I’m not friends with him, or linked with him or following him. I only have Facebook, and I’m hardly ever on it.
“Well, Blake, you’ll be happy to know the life you left behind online is completely secure and private,” I tell him. “I can’t find a damn thing on you.”
My phone buzzes beside me and startles me out of my staring contest with the laptop monitor. I pick it up and click on the display.
Hayes: I found something I think you should know about.
He’s still trying to help me even though I’ve completely shut him out of my life. I don’t know whether to be scared or grateful, but I guess I’d be a little foolish not to hear what he has to say. Although if it’s going to end like it did last time, I’m not sure I want to keep putting myself through this.
Hayes: My firm can send the information over to the police department if you’d rather we work that way.
Maybe that’s safer.
Me: Yeah, maybe that’s best.
So why do I feel so disappointed right now?
Me: Although, I think I’d rather hear it from you first.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
IT’S DAYLIGHT, AND THE PARK is a safe bet. It can get pretty crowded during the day. Plus, it’s one of the first truly warm days we’ve had in months, and I could go for some fresh air. I slip on a white tee and my tight skinny jeans, feeling a slight spring in my step. No work today, so I’m going casual.
I grab my folder with the phone bill printouts; it’s pretty much all I can contribute at this point. I know these papers don’t give me much information, but who knows what it might offer him, being a professional and all. I wish I had more as far as possible evidence, but when everything burns down, you’re not left with much.
I tuck it under my arm as I step into my shoes. Then I grab my keys and stop in front of the hall mirror. I’m ignoring the dozens of caution signs that keep showing up in every aspect of my life, especially the ones surrounding Hayes. I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks, but my feelings have grown, even in light of Tanner’s accusations. It’s easy to point fingers when it feels like the world is against you. I’ve pointed them at Aspen, and even though I could be very wrong, I could also be right. Tanner’s obviously looking for someone to blame too, and the new man in my life is a good option. But my gut isn’t screaming danger.
Maybe I need to stop throwing blame around and focus on finding the truth.
I stop by the mailbox at the bottom of the stairs and pull open the little metal door. Bills, more bills, ads, and a white envelope with a forward sticker and a return address from Dallas. I rip it open and pull out the folded piece of paper. Blake’s email password…finally. It’s a bunch of numbers. I have no idea what they mean, and I never would have guessed them.
I slam th
e mailbox closed, pull my key out, fly out the door and run down to the park. I’m thrilled to have some more information that could assist with the investigation. I just hope it helps.
* * *
I’m out of breath by the time I reach the park. I find Hayes sitting on the stone wall surrounding the fountain. He’s wearing a black tee and faded jeans. His hair has gotten a little longer and the stubble on his chin is even more prominent than it was in the coffee shop. God he looks hot.
I slow my pace as I close in on him. “Hi,” I say.
He stands up and drops his hands into his pockets. “Blondie-locks.” A smile touches his lips. “You look springy today.” I want to throw my arms around him and kiss him senseless right now, but that might seem a little odd. I haven’t so much as called him in a couple of weeks.
“Where’s Lady?” I ask.
“Washing her hair or something,” he laughs. “She’s at the groomer.” I roll my eyes and wonder how he comes up with all of this cheese so quick. “What’s that?” He nods at the folder in my hands.
“Helpful information, I hope. I printed out phone bills and I just gained access to Blake’s email account.” I walk past him and sit down at the fountain. “I just received it in the mail. I had to fill out all of this paperwork and stuff.”
He sits back down beside me. “Are you nervous about what you might find?” he asks.
I exhale loudly. “Yeah. But I could potentially find nothing too, which would be even more disappointing I guess.” I flip the folder open, looking at the letter again. “Will you go through it with me?”
“You sure?” he asks, his voice filled with hesitation but also hope.
“Yeah, I rented my own place. It’s a block over that way.”
“Wow…I guess you’ve been busy.” He stands up and takes me by the hand, a gesture I wasn’t sure he’d still be open to at this point. But I close my fingers tightly around his, enjoying the warmth and comfort his touch brings me as if no time has passed.
“I missed you.” My words come out so softly, I’m not sure he heard me. But after a long second, his fingers squeeze mine tighter.
“Telling you I missed you too would be an understatement,” he says. “You were in my life for two weeks, and I don’t know what you did to me during that time, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Aren’t I supposed to trust my gut? Isn’t it supposed to warn me when danger is looming? Because right now, it’s jumping up and down and doing summersaults. My heart is throbbing and my chest is aching, but not in a painful way. In the I need more of him way. I need to believe he showed up in my life for the right reasons, or no reason at all, rather than for the reason of destroying me.
* * *
He closes my apartment door behind us, eyeballing the five deadlocks. “Felicity,” he says, turning around, “this kills me. You must be terrified.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I am. I’m terrified because someone insinuated that you may have come into my life for bad reasons…and yet, I don’t want to be away from you. It makes me feel crazy and stupid.”
He walks toward me, his face completely neutral, cornering me, his hands press into the wall on either side of me. “Crazy and stupid?” He leans in a little more. “Whatever this is, it’s something.” His lips brush against my ear. “So tell me to stop.”
I can hear my heart beating like a punch to my chest, shortening my breaths. “Don’t stop,” I whisper. “Please. Don’t stop.”
He pulls away, only enough for our noses to just barely touch. I can almost feel it. I watch as his lips move in, but I close my eyes as his nose brushes the side of mine. His breath tickles my lips as I close the gap between us, needing to taste him. His hands squeeze my hips, and I soften a little more. I wrap my arms around his neck and his arm loops around my back as he moves us over to the couch. Our bodies are flush against one another. I feel his hardness pressing against my leg. His hands slide up my back, under my shirt, sending a current of warmth through my body. One of his hands unclasps my bra, freeing me as his other hand pulls my shirt up and over my head.
My fingers slide under his shirt, tracing lines around the bulging muscles between us. “I need to be in you,” he says, low, guttural.
I reach for the button on my jeans, cursing the idea of skinny jeans and the difficulty of removing them. I think he realizes I’m having trouble when his hands grip at my back pockets. I try to shimmy out of them once again, but I end up trying too hard, and we roll off the couch together. He catches me on the way down, allowing me to fall on him instead of the other way around. A deep belly laugh rumbles through me, and I’m laughing so hard I can hardly breathe. God, it feels good to laugh like this.
So good, tears start pouring from my eyes.
Hayes pulls me in between his legs, wrapping his long arms around my exposed torso. His lips press into my cheek. “Hey,” he whispers.
“I’m okay,” I cry, placing my cheek down on his forearm. “Is it always going to be like this?”
“I wish I knew,” he whispers, his lips against my ear.
“I need a cigarette,” I tell him. It’s the first time I’ve admitted it out loud. “I need my chest to stop aching like it is. I need the loneliness to subside or go away completely. I’m scared to leave my apartment. I’m scared to go to work. I feel like people are always watching me. I question the motives of everyone who talks to me. I try to convince myself that the world isn’t against me. But I feel like it is.”
His fingers lift my chin, forcing me to look into his sympathetic eyes. “You’re not alone.” His lips are against mine again as he stands up, pulling me with him. “I bet I can make you forget about that cigarette.”
I’m mortified that he almost always sees me at my worst. He has no idea who I used to be. It wasn’t so long ago that I had a bounce in every step I took, kind of like I was floating on clouds. Everything was organized and right in my life. It was perfect. Maybe he wouldn’t have liked that version of me—the put together, competent, hard-working, no-nonsense Felicity.
Maybe he only likes me broken.
With his arm draped around my shoulders, he leads us down the hall and into the bathroom. Once inside, he cranks the tub knob all the way to the left and plugs the drain. He releases me and takes one of my colorful bottles of bath soap into his hands, reading the label. “Girls really dig this flowery shit, huh?” he laughs.
“It’s aromatic,” I croak.
“Is that like an aphrodisiac too?” I can tell he’s trying not to smile, but he’s sort of losing that battle.
I nudge my shoulder into his chest. “Like either of us need to increase our desire.”
“Just hearing you say that increases mine, Blondie-locks.” His hands reach around my hips to try lowering my pants once again. “Are these things glued on, or what?”
“Turn around and face the door.”
“What?” he laughs. “Why?”
“There is no pretty way to remove these.”
Hayes turns around, chuckling softly. “Tell me when.”
I shimmy the pants off, almost tripping over myself. And now that I’m completely naked and exposed, I decide to slip into the tub before telling him he can turn back around.
The water splashes as I get in, and he whips around at the sound. “Hey—no fair!” He pulls his shirt off and steps out of his jeans, then his boxer briefs. Good God. Is this what I do to this man? He’s hard and…I’m staring. “Like what you see?” he asks.
I close my eyes, finding the image of him burned into my head. “What do you think?”
He sits on the opposite side of the tub with his long legs bent to fit and reaches across for my hand, twisting me around and pulling me in between his legs. I can feel all of him against my backside. We relax into the water, the bubbles tickling the area where the air meets my skin. My head falls to the side, lying comfortably against his chest. The steam in the bathroom is calming, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel l
ike hiding or running away.
His lips trail up to my ear, and his teeth clamp over the lobe, gently but firm enough to drive searing sensations down between my legs…he’s tending to that as well. My eyes close as my body becomes one with the water, melting into him as his fingers make a smooth entrance inside of me. His free hand is pinching around my nipple, making it firm within his grip. “Mmm…” His fingers slide out slowly and then back in with a firm thrust, making me cry out, begging for more.
He helps me turn around to face him. Straddling him, I press my lips against his neck.
“Are you on the pill?” he asks.
A responsible man is an incredible turn-on. “Yes,” I breathe. He lifts me up while guiding himself into me. He’s so long…I can feel him so deep inside of me. His hands grip tightly around my butt as he rocks me back and forth. His lips use my skin as a canvas, creating an abstract sensation over my neck and chest.
His gaze doesn’t shift from mine. He’s allowing me to see his desire. The want. The need. And I feel it all with each thrust. A mutual exchange of unadulterated lust. We’re moving so hard and fast that the water is spilling over the side of the tub. But all I care about is the way he fills me entirely, the way I’m crying out his name like I’ve never cried out anyone else’s. His hands graze the soft skin under my thighs and I press harder against him, feeling like a firework spiraling into the sky, screaming against the winds right before detonating. “I’m going to…” I pant, “I….” He plunges into me harder again and again until I feel his release flush through me. His head falls into my chest, his breathing erratic and fast.
“Holy shit,” he groans, as he grows calm again. “Still need a cigarette?”
I murmur a laugh into his shoulder. “No. I’m good now.”
* * *
I feel numb and lazy and calm.
We’re resting comfortably on the couch, he in his t-shirt and boxer briefs, me in my t-shirt and panties. My legs are slung across his thighs, and he’s drawing tiny circles over my calves. “This is nice.” While I think he agrees with my thought, he has this twisted look on his face. “What is it?”
Red Nights Page 17
