by Natasha Boyd
And Liv was concerned about Pete before she even asked about herself.
Without thinking, I reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She flinched and shrank away. It felt like someone slid a knife under my breastbone.
“How did he threaten me?” Her voice was small.
When I didn’t answer, she smashed her hand over her mouth.
“I know you don’t want me here,” I offered. “But I’ll stay until morning and then go get this done for Tyler. The plan is for him to be no longer a problem. Cal too.”
We locked eyes. She dropped her hand and nodded as if drawing strength from my plan.
And I couldn’t help my gaze sliding to her mouth. Would I ever feel anything for the rest of my life close to what had just happened to me a few hours ago in the storm outside? Or for that matter, what had happened to me over the last few weeks.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, blinking and breaking the spell. My spell. My curse.
“The less you know, the better. But, first thing in the morning, get yourself over to Mama’s and stay with Marjoe, or even Bethany, until you know you’re safe. Okay?”
“Are you—?”
“I’m not coming back, Liv.”
Her lips compressed, and her body trembled.
I mean, I could literally see it quake.
I had an immediate recollection of my hand pressing against her breastbone desperate to feel her pulse when she was sick, her bones so delicate under her skin, it was like feeling the bones of a bird in my hand.
“Liv… I’m sorry I lied to you.” I finally addressed it. “I can never change that, and even if you could ever find a way to forgive me, or to understand why I did it, I can’t forgive myself. Not for being part of Abby’s death, not for abandoning you afterward, and never… for abusing your trust in me… or for what I just did to you.” I took a breath. “So, no. I’m not coming back.”
Her eyes watered over, and I fucking had to watch a tear roll down her cheek and not wipe it away.
“But you’re stronger now, Liv.”
“I’m stronger because of you,” she whispered.
I hated her words. I didn’t want her needing me just because she was scared to stand on her own. I wanted her to need me because… “Dammit.” I gritted my teeth. “You were always strong. Don’t take that away from yourself. The shit that happened to you was just that, it was shit. Shit you didn’t deserve. And you fucking survived. You found a way to survive, to get away. That took courage, Liv. You’re stronger than anything life is gonna throw at you, okay?”
I shook my head. When I compared the girl in front of me now to the one who showed up on my doorstep, who was so terrified and so broken and hollow, I realized maybe for the first time, just how much it had taken for her to get here, not even knowing what awaited her. An empty, run-down cottage, no food, no electricity, no means, but paradise compared to where she’d been. What she’d endured.
I DIDN’T CALL Pete. He’d be mad as a copperhead with a flat tail, but damned if I was going to send him on a suicide mission. He only had a finite amount of time left. I didn’t need him wasting it on me.
It was after midnight and sleep was not the agenda. I needed to be ready to roll in less than four hours.
“You need to go to bed, Liv.”
“I fell asleep when you were packing earlier, and I dreamed someone chased me from here all the way to the beach. So, excuse me, but I don’t feel like seeing what else my subconscious has to offer.” She settled on the couch, drawing the quilt she’d brought out yesterday over her legs. Was it just last night I’d lain there, breathing her in?
“What happened when you got to the beach?”
“What?”
“In your dream, what happened?” I sat in the chair closest to the fire, putting us right back into the positions we’d been in earlier when we’d first come inside after I tore her world apart.
“Abby was there.” She furrowed her brow. Her gaze seemed distant as she remembered. “She told me to go into the water to get away. But I knew if I did that I’d drown. Whatever was chasing me though, made it a really viable option.” She shivered.
“God, it would be a psychologist’s wet dream to extrapolate theories from that one,” I mused.
Liv pressed her lips together as she sat opposite me, and her hand shook as she took another sip of tea. “I told you I hated her. I was angry with her. In my dream, I didn’t trust her.” She looked at me. “So what did you do when your parents told you they wouldn’t help Abby?”
We had a few hours left together, it seemed she was taking my advice and getting as much out of me as possible. I leaned back on the chair, folded my arms across my chest, and closed my eyes. Exhaustion settled over me. My mind slid back in time. “I wouldn’t drop it. How could I? My fucking parents solved every single one of my problems growing up by throwing money at it until the only thing left I could think of doing was snort it or drink it.” I was too tired and emotionally spent to try and worry about how I sounded. It was the truth, anyway. “I finally get my head together, get on the straight and narrow and go to them for help with something real and terrifying, and they tell me to drop it and ask how much we need to go and stay out of the way for a few years.” I opened my eyes to find her listening to me, her lips slightly parted, and her eyes filled up. There was pity there, maybe because it turned out my parents were as fucked up as hers were, but I also saw suspicion. She wanted to know if I took the money. “Ask me.”
“Did you take the money?”
“Not that time.”
Her hand pressed against her stomach. I knew the feeling. Mine was trying to rearrange itself into my hollow chest or my legs or anywhere but where it should be.
“So what did you do?” she pressed.
“That’s when we made our mistake.”
“What was the mistake?” she whispered.
“I decided we needed evidence. So I made Abby call him and ask to meet. We went to this bar. I should have known right then something wasn’t right. We thought we could… record him or something. Record him admitting it, I thought. Fuck, we were dumb. I was,” I corrected. “Abby didn’t really want to, she didn’t want to see him again, but I made her do it. I thought it was the only way.”
The kitten padded out from the bedroom and jumped up onto her lap, settling into a round ball of brown and white. Her hand immediately settled on his fur.
“You should have seen it, two underage kids walking into a bar full of cops. What the hell were we thinking?” I shook my head. “Mike was all, he,y look who it is, and smiling, introducing us around. Abby looked like she was going to faint. One of his buddies, another cop, gave us a drink each. Alcohol.” I shook my head. “It was weird as shit. Of course we didn’t drink them, and we got the hell out of there about ten minutes after we arrived. She was shaking so bad. We got in the car and sat there trying to figure out what the fuck to do. She kept saying we just needed to go back to the cottage.” My eyes closed as I remembered, letting the night I’d blocked out for years slowly slither back into my head. “I asked about you, and she said it wasn’t about you, and you were still too young, and we had time…” I trailed off.
“I don’t want you to say anything else,” she whispered. “I know what comes next.”
But she didn’t, not really. And it was probably better that way.
MY PHONE ALARM chimed, and I jerked awake. It was time to go. My neck was stiff from where I’d dozed on the chair. Sitting up, I ran a hand down my face, chasing away the sleep. It was still dark out and would be for a while with the time change. The fire had died out, and I could barely make out the small shape of Liv curled on the couch, the kitten snuggled against her belly.
I stared, waiting for my eyes to adjust so I could see her more clearly. Quietly, I got up and walked over to her, easing down to a crouch. My hand moved to her hair, and I hesitated for a moment before letting instinct take over and smooth it back from her f
ace.
She sighed and shifted. The kitten let out a barely audible squeak, then broke into rhythmic purring.
I tensed, hoping I hadn’t just sparked some crazy nightmare by touching her. But her face surprised me by tilting toward my hand, as if it sought me out.
All I was planning to do was wake her enough to let her know I was leaving, but I couldn’t make myself stop touching her face while she slept, seeing if her subconscious mind hated me as much as her conscious one did. Letting my hand descend to cup her delicate cheekbone, I reveled in the warmth of it, before my thumb brushed lightly over her lips.
Instantly her breathing changed, and I knew I’d woken her. Just open your eyes, Liv. I willed her. If she opened her eyes, I would kiss her. Say all the things I wanted to.
I waited.
After a few moments, she turned her face away, and my heart sucker-punched me from inside my own body. I squeezed my eyes closed and forced myself to stand. I walked numbly to the kitchen, turning on the dimmest under-counter light and made coffee. Then I went to the bathroom and took one last shower, throwing my same clothes back on since I’d packed everything else. Making my way quietly back to the kitchen, I saw Liv was awake, sitting on the couch, knees drawn up to her chest.
Unanswered questions flowed and pulsed around the cottage. But, as if we both knew addressing them now, at this late stage would cause more harm than good, we stayed quiet. The time for answers and recriminations had passed. Liv was going to move on regardless. I poured a quick cup of coffee and drank it while it was still scalding, maybe it could cauterize my heart on the way down. I rinsed the cup and put it in the sink.
The weight of Livvy watching me slowed all my movements.
I grabbed my duffle, slung it over my shoulder, and headed to the front door.
“Please lock up after I’m gone.” I spoke quietly, easing into the heavy silence. “And head to Mama’s as soon as you can. Don’t stay here today, okay? And…” I stared at the wooden door as if it was a mirror that could reflect her back to me from where she sat, “if you need something, if you are in trouble,… or scared…” Shit. I exhaled roughly. “…you can still call me or text me.”
“Just leave. Please.”
I nodded. Opening the door and the screen, I walked through, into the cool dark morning air, letting the screen slam behind me.
I SLEPT HEAVILY, and dreamlessly. For once. When I awoke on the couch, it was still early morning. The kitten was sitting on my chest staring at me. I jerked with surprise at being studied at such close range. The kitten yawned, baring his tiny white pointed teeth and pink, barb-covered tongue, and then puffed fish breath all over me.
Daylight filtered into the interior of the cottage. It wasn’t sunny but at least it wasn’t raining anymore.
The cottage was threateningly and painfully quiet. I looked around, unsettled. The aching void left by Tom’s departure wasn’t just inside me.
I moved mechanically, feeding the cat, drinking burned coffee left on from the early hours, showering and getting dressed into shorts and a T-shirt. I needed to head to Mama’s. Not just because Tom had made me promise, but because I wanted to see if I could help if anything had been damaged. I wasn’t sure if the branch that came down behind me the night before had blocked the whole road, so I decided I would leave the cart and walk. I hurried to get ready. Searching for my phone, I remembered I’d left it in the cart when I’d arrived in the storm last night. Shit, it was probably ruined.
It was warm outside, but the rain had broken the mugginess, although the heat of the day would soon hit the leftover dampness, steaming the island. The air smelled of earthy mud and split wet wood.
The first thing I saw was my torn underwear, caked with mud and drying in the morning breeze. My skin flushed hot and prickly with embarrassment, and then my belly dipped at the erotic memory. I grabbed the material, my chest pounding with painful emotions I refused to acknowledge. My phone was dead and waterlogged. Dammit. Feeling the first stirrings of panic, I jogged back inside and stuffed it into a bag of rice. Let’s see if that shit actually worked.
I picked up the cat and gave him a gentle squeeze. He meowed mournfully. “Don’t think I don’t know you can’t wait for me to leave so you can climb the curtains again,” I admonished.
MAMA’S LOOKED WORSE than it actually was. Tables and chairs were strewn around but mostly undamaged. Pete’s boat was gone. I wondered if he was on it with Tom, Whit, I corrected myself, and crossed my fingers reflexively saying a quick prayer that whatever he was planning would be done fast and effectively.
The hurricane shutters were half removed. I got busy righting some chairs and tables and heard Marjoe talking inside. I decided to head in and let her know I was here. She was talking with Big Jake, saying something about Pete. “Hi,” I greeted, approaching. I looked around to see if anyone else was inside. Bethany was coming through from the kitchen. When she saw me, she almost ran toward me.
I stopped, suddenly terrified for Tom. Whit. Scared for Whit. She grabbed my arm and hauled me back outside. “What’s going on with you and Tommy?” she spat, and I realized it wasn’t worry in her wide eyes.
“What?” I said, taking a step back in surprise.
“Is this some kind of sick joke or something?” Her eyes were full of tears now. “I thought you guys were like brother and sister or something, and I see that you’re… to find out you’ve been… God!” she choked out. Her tone turned acid. “You’re sick! No wonder he’s barely touched me in weeks, he’s been quite well taken care of.”
“Bethany, what the hell are you talking about?”
My God, had Tom come here and told Bethany that something happened between us? I couldn’t fathom he’d do that. Shock made my mind spin. Caught off guard, I decided to stick to current facts. “There’s nothing going on between me and Tom.”
“I’m so stupid, so damn stupid. I can’t believe you both did that to me. And to think I felt sorry for you. Were you having a good laugh? Having me over for dinner and then laughing at me when I was gone?”
I grabbed her arm. “What the hell are you talking about?” I raised my voice, trying to break through to her. And she felt sorry for me? Fuck that. Now I was mad, in addition to confused.
Marjoe slammed outside. “What is going on out here?”
“Get off me,” screeched Bethany, wrenching her arm out of my grip.
I dropped my hand quickly, hoping it didn’t look bad to Marjoe.
Bethany pointed at me. “She’s fucking Tommy, like the sick little slut she is.”
Blood drained from my head. “I’m not,” I whispered in agony.
“I saw you!” she shouted.
Staring at her in horror, I felt my heart ooze up to beat in my throat.
“I saw you! I was worried about Tommy being out in the storm so I raced over there. In. The. Storm.” she emphasized every word. “To make sure he’d made it back safely, only to see you… you and him…” She sobbed and turned away.
“Is that true?” Marjoe’s rough voice asked, surprise lacing her tone.
I swung my face in her direction, but could hardly focus. My mind was replaying everything from last night, trying to see it all through someone else’s eyes.
“Honey,” she soothed, and I blinked with relief until I realized she was talking to Bethany. “I’m sure you must have misunderstood what you saw.”
Bethany fell crying into Marjoe’s arms. “I didn’t.”
“She didn’t,” I said quietly, barely finding my voice. Bethany had seen every ugly, dirty, and desperate moment.
Marjoe looked up, confused and… disappointed. My mother always looked disappointed. But disappointment had never skewered me so thoroughly.
They both looked at me. And I backed up, one foot stumbling behind the other.
Turning, I ran as fast as I could. I was almost glad I didn’t bring the cart. Having to stop right now and start it up was beyond the simple commands I could give my body. Get a
way was all I could think. Go where I was alone, where I only had to worry about me, my feelings. My feet pounded along the dirt, my chest heaving, my head full only of the sound of my breathing. The warmth of the day and steam from the earth tried to sap what little energy I had left.
Halfway back, I stopped running. I was tired and emotionally spent. I paused, bending over to catch my breath.
I knew I had some explaining to do to Marjoe, and Bethany too, at some point, and I began to get pissed that Tom had carried on with Bethany and used her so badly. Look at me grow, I thought in an abstract and lucid moment just as the sun filtered through the leafy canopy above.
God, what was I going to do? Would Marjoe ever have me back? And a waitress? Was that who I wanted to be, forever? The “what next?” was too much to think about through the pain in my heart. I’d never felt so lost.
Even thinking beyond walking home to the empty cottage was crushing my head and my heart. I needed to do something, to just get through until my mind caught up, and I felt like I could breathe. Today, I was going to paint those damn shutters. I knew there was no boo hag to be worried about, but it was actually a lovely gray blue color. White tinted with indigo. The shutters needed painting. The cottage was my responsibility now that Abby was no longer around to share it with me. Or Abby’s widowed husband. The thought was still alien to me.
The kitten, I couldn’t call him by his given name anymore, was ecstatic to see me. He leapt from the rafter, narrowly missing me, then started hissing and meowing and climbing up the curtains again. As soon as he put on an ounce more weight, they would shred under his efforts. “What the heck is wrong with you?” I muttered.
A sound came from the hall.
Time slowed as I looked at the cat and realized it wasn’t him making the noise.
A step.
Breathing.
Then my pulse slowed to stillness and I turned.
Cal Richter stood silently watching me, in one hand a thin white rope that he was looping through his fingers absently, an odd grin quirked on one side of his face. The non-tattoed side.
