If I Say No (Say Something #2)

by Brandy Jellum

  Whatever you decide, I just want you to be happy.

  Guilt sets in as I stare at her phone. I’m the reason she’s questioning our relationship. I did this to us.

  Her phone beeps again, startling me, and I almost drop it. It’s Eli again and I’m not sure I want to read it but I can’t resist.

  I hate to admit it, but the guy really loves you. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you to not give him a chance to explain himself.

  I didn’t expect that at all.

  “What are you doing?” Liza says in a sleepy voice. I jump back, dropping her phone, and it hits the nightstand before hitting the floor.

  “I…uh…” She flips on the lamp sitting on the nightstand. I blink as I try to adjust to the light and rub my face with my hands. “I was just…”

  “Snooping through my phone?” She stretches out her arms and pushes herself up into a sitting position. “You have no right to do that.”

  “I know.” I sigh and sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Anything interesting?” She yawns.

  “Yes—I mean, no…I wasn’t looking for anything.”

  “Whatever.” Liza crawls across the bed. She leans over the edge and the blanket drops down, exposing her underwear.

  I sit on the edge of the bed. She grabs her cell phone, sits back up, and pulls the covers over her. She reads the two text messages I previously read and frowns. I shift closer to her on the bed. She doesn’t move or look at me.

  “Liza…” I say softly.

  Tears fall from her eyes and glisten in the moonlight. “You had no business going through my phone,” she says angrily. She bunches the blanket up in her hands and pulls it up to her chest.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, and reach out to touch her. My hand caresses her cheek and she doesn’t pull away.

  “You don’t see me going through your phone, do you?”

  I lean over the bed and grab my phone from the nightstand. I hold it out to her, and she stares at it for a moment. “Go through it if you want.” Then I remember the text message my brother sent to me. I can’t let her see that. She might freak out. “On second thought…”

  She glares at me. “We clearly don’t trust each other. We both have secrets, and secrets have a tendency to tear people apart. Look, they’re already doing it. They have been from the start. We were never truly together. We only gave each other a piece of us and that’s not how it works. When two people are in love, they should give each other their entire selves. Not just a portion. Don’t you understand? We aren’t capable of that—I’m not capable of that, and I never will be.”

  “Don’t say that.” My voice cracks. “Look at how far you’ve come. Look at what you’ve shared with me.”

  She pulls her knees up to her chest, rests her head on top of them, and slowly rocks back and forth. “And yet I still haven’t shared everything, and neither have you. I don’t even know what happened to your father.”

  “My father? What does he have to do with any of this?” My father is uncharted territory and a place I refuse to go.

  “There’s something about him you’re not telling me. I don’t know why you can’t trust me enough to do that.”

  She’s right. If neither of us is willing to give more of ourselves, then it won’t work.

  “He left us,” I tell her, simply and firmly. “Every day, he lost himself in a bottle of cheap whiskey. He couldn’t cope with Alexandra’s death. He abandoned my mother and me when we needed him the most. Physically, he was there. Emotionally, he was as dark as a pit of tar. One day, it was all too much for him, and he drank himself into oblivion. He stormed out of the house, shouting things that didn’t make any sense, and got behind the wheel of his car. I chased his car down the driveway and into the road. I saw everything that happened…” I take a shaky breath and exhale loudly. “His car slammed into another one in the opposite lane. Both he and the other driver died before help could arrive. He died right before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do to help him.” Then I tell her more than I should, probably. “I handed him the keys when he demanded them, and I let him walk out of the house. I let him die.”

  I hear Liza gasp, and I can’t bring myself to look at her. I don’t need her pity. “It’s my fault. I’ve accepted responsibility for it; I’ve moved on, and I don’t like talking about it. It’s hard to visit my sister’s grave because he’s buried right next to her. The grief is too much. I let both of them down. Their blood is on my hands, and it’s something I’ll live with for the rest of my life.”

  I stare at the wall in front of me. Liza wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close to her. She runs her hand down my back and rubs the spot between my shoulder blades. “It isn’t your fault,” she whispers in my ear. “He made the decision to drive. Not you. You can’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t control.”

  “Why not?” I try to pull away, but Liza tightens her hold on me. “You do it. Every single day, you blame yourself for what’s happening. We both do it…we can’t seem to move past it.”

  She nods. “It’s destroying us. I don’t think I can keep going like this.”

  “I just told you something incredibly deep and dark, something that’s been haunting me for a very long time. Doesn’t that prove anything to you? Can’t you give me a little more time to work through the rest of it?”

  I see tears soaking her face. “Not anymore. You not telling me everything makes me feel like I’m not good enough. There’s a woman wandering around in the world who knows these things about you…shouldn’t that be me? Shouldn’t I be good enough for that?”

  “You are good enough for that, Liza.” She looks at me as if she doesn’t believe me. “I never wanted you to feel that you weren’t.”

  I turn. She pulls away, curling into the pillows. I lean into her. The air is thick and I can feel the tension pulsating between us. We stare at each other, challenging each other to say anything, do something. But neither of us moves. We wait to see who will break first.

  I finally give in and cup her face in my hands, watching her lip tremble as I lower my face to hers. I can feel her shaky breath against my lips as they hover above hers.

  My phone chirps.

  We both jump, our moment passing us by, and I curse to myself. Liza pushes herself back further onto the bed to puts some distance between us. I grab my phone and see Marco’s name on the display. “More secrets?” Liza says as she stands from the bed and walks away. I hear her sigh loudly and want to go to her.

  My phone rings again.

  “What’s the word?” I say as soon as I answer the phone.

  “We got her, Reid,” Marco says softly and I release a sigh of relief. “She isn’t in good shape though.”

  “Fuck.” I rub the back of my neck. I hear a noise behind me and look over my shoulder to Liza, typing on her phone. “Tell me.”

  “They weren’t in the club when we arrived. So we went out back to where they…” He paused for a moment and I knew it had to be bad. “Well I don’t think you need the specifics, but they had her. She’s alive. We took her to one of the safe houses and Isaac’s wife is tending to her now.”

  “And my brother?”

  “He wasn’t there. Just his men. One of them laughed and said we’d just missed him. He took his turn first and got the hell out of there. We’ve got them in a secured location, but they’re not talking.”

  “Let me know as soon as they do. I don’t care what time it is. I want the call right away.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “The girl…she’s going to be okay?”

  “She’s in good hands.”

  Now, Rhett has even more to pay for. And I want to make sure that he does.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Reid.” Marco seems to read my mind. “I’m right there with you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I WAKE UP TO THE SOUND of water running in the bathroom. Liza and I didn’t talk much after Marco’s call. She did tell me to g
rab a pillow and blanket and to get comfortable on the floor, though. When I didn’t move, she threw them at me, rolled over, and went to sleep, leaving me there to stare at her in the moonlight. The floor was more than uncomfortable. I make it a point to never end up sleeping on it again. Not unless I invest in more comfortable carpeting.

  I stretch my limbs every which way and hope the pain in my back goes away soon. I hear the water shut off and consider lying here, pretending to be asleep. Instead, I force myself off the floor, gather up the blanket and pillow, and toss them onto the bed before heading toward the bathroom.

  I don’t knock.

  Liza squeals and pulls the towel tighter around her body. “Excuse you!” she says. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

  I shrug and pull down my boxer-briefs. Her cheeks flush bright red at the sight of me. It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before “I need a hot shower. Feels like I’ve slept on a pile of rocks.”

  “It was the only way, Reid. I didn’t want you in bed.”

  “Yeah. I got that.” I walk across the bathroom and brush my arm against hers. The way she jumps when our bodies touch doesn’t go unnoticed and I laugh to myself. I open the shower door and steam drifts out from inside, and I step into the warmth. Usually, I take cold showers in the morning to wake myself up. Today calls for the hottest water I can stand to soothe my aching back.

  The water steams the shower. I can’t see through the glass doors, but I can hear Liza opening a drawer. A moment later, Tchaikovsky’s “Swan Lake” fills the air and I smile. She’s playing one of our favorite composers, a song from our favorite ballet. A few minutes pass, and I turn off the water and step out of the shower.

  Liza is nowhere to be found.

  I dry myself off and wrap the towel around my waist. I walk into the closet expecting her to be in there, and I’m disappointed when she isn’t. I dress and head into the bedroom. The empty bed has been stripped. I check my phone to see if there’s been any word from Marco. Nothing yet. I send a quick message requesting an update and slip the phone into my pocket as I head downstairs.

  I hear chattering when I reach the bottom of the stairs and follow it to the kitchen. I walk in and find not only my mother and Liza sitting around the breakfast bar with a cup of coffee, but Eli as well. My mother watches me as I cross the kitchen to the coffee pot. I grab my mug and pour it full. I bring it to my lips. “Morning, folks,’” I say.

  My mother raises an eyebrow. “You drink your coffee black, Reid?”

  “I do today,” I tell her, and take a sip of the steaming black liquid.

  I pull a chair out next to Liza and drape my arm over the back of hers.

  Eli shifts in his seat. I see the sour look on her face as she shifts away from my arm.

  “So…to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?” I look at Eli and take another drink. The bitter fluid scalds my tongue. I regret not adding anything to sweeten it.

  “Liza called and asked me to have lunch with her today,” he answers plainly.

  “It’s a little early for that, isn’t it?” Now I know: it’s all her. Liza is playing this, not Eli. “Besides, I made lunch reservations for us at Mom’s favorite restaurant.”

  My mother’s brow kinks. “Don’t you have to be in the office today?”

  I shake my head but keep my eyes on Eli. “No. I gave Derek the day off since I figured we’ll be busy planning things.”

  “Well, I have plans of my own this morning to tend to, and Liza and I have a meeting with the florist this afternoon.” She pauses and clears her throat. “It’s in your best interest to be there as well. Three o’clock.”

  “No problem.” I play along, for the sake of the “wedding.” I play with a strand of Liza’s hair. She tries to pull away from my hand without anyone noticing. “Whatever my bride wants.”

  She slams her cup down and stands. “I’m going to go shopping, I think.”

  I smile. “Sounds like fun. I’m in.”

  Eli laughs. “Me, too.”

  Liza glares, but knows better than to protest in front of my mother. “Great…that’s great. Meet me at the car.” She heads for the hallway. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Well, Ellen,” Eli says, “it’s been nice chatting with you. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.” He places his cup on the table and gives my mother a huge grin. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  “You can’t put your cup in the sink?” I ask him.

  He eyes it as he walks out. “Doesn’t look like it.”

  “Dick,” I mutter.

  My mother sighs and stirs her coffee. “You do know that boy is in love with her…right?”

  I grip my coffee mug and nod, knowing that his support of us isn’t really all that supportive. “Yes, mother,” I say softly. “I know.”

  “Is that why you’re rushing to marry her—so you can get in before she realizes that she might love him, too?”

  My eyes focus on her. Am I really that transparent? It’s one of my biggest fears. I won’t let her know that, though. “No,” I lie. “But it is a good reason, too.”

  “Oh, Reid.” She sighs and stands up. She walks around the table and brushes my cheek. “I know things are tense right now but do you think rushing the wedding is a good idea?”

  “It’s what we’ve chosen to do, Mom.”

  “Then you will have no complaints from me here on out. I only wish you’d tell me what’s really going on.”

  I stand up, pull her into my arms and hold her tight. “It’s nothing to worry about.” I kiss the top of her head before letting her go.

  “I’ve got to run,” she says. “There are places to go, people to see, and things to do if we’re going to have a wedding in less than two weeks.” She walks out of the kitchen, and I’m alone.

  I lean against the counter and stare down at the floor. My life is such a mess. I need to get a hold of it before it spirals further out of control.

  I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and pull it out. There’s a message from Marco. I read it right away.

  They’re awake and talking. I’m on my way. Be ready in ten.

  I slip my phone back into my pocket, grab a jacket and wait outside for Marco. A few minutes later the gates open, and his car pulls up the driveway. I climb in. On the drive to the secure facility, we say nothing. I glance over at Marco. He has dark circles under his eyes, fatigue in his face, and he’s still in the same clothes he left in last night.

  He heads toward the outskirts of town, and we eventually pass the diner Liza loves so much. The only thing out here for miles is the Longport Correction facility. I’m pretty certain he isn’t holding them there.

  Ten minutes down the road from the diner, Marco pulls off onto a bumpy gravel driveway. The car goes over a hill, and we continue to drive for another ten minutes before I see a small structure in the distance. We approach the building. It’s a house in the middle of nowhere. Two other SUVs are parked in the front.

  Marco throws the car into park and climbs out without saying a word. I unbuckle my seatbelt and follow him. There’s nothing fancy about the place. It has two levels, and the paint is faded and peeling in some areas. A set of steps creaks as we walk up them to a wrap-around porch with a swing and a large white front door. Marco walks in, strips his jacket off, and hangs it on a coat hanger.

  The house isn’t much inside—a few miscellaneous pieces of furniture scattered through the living room; a large flat screen TV hanging from the wall. Across the room, I see a similar set up to the one Marco has in his room. A light-haired man is sitting at the desk staring at the monitor.

  “Hey, man.” Marco claps him on the shoulder.

  The man spins around. I see the jagged scar running diagonally across his face from his right eyebrow to the far left side of his chin.

  “They saying anything yet?”

  “No, but I think the little one is about to crack.” He nods to the monitors behind him. “I’m Jed.”

  He ho
lds his hand out to me and I shake it. “Reid.”

  “Nice to meet the man behind the paycheck.” He laughs and turns back around to the monitor.

  I look over his shoulder and see views of four different men. They vary in size and age. I recognize them as my brother’s associates. On the second screen, someone enters the room and kicks the foot of the man sitting on the floor. He moves but doesn’t look at his tormentor. I see his mouth moving, but I can’t hear what’s being said.

  “Where are they?” I look over at Marco who is focused on the screens.

  “In the cellar.”

  “And the girl?”

  “She’s being taken care of in a safe location.”

  Marco pulls his attention away from the screen and looks at me. He pulls his gun out of his holster, sets it on the desk in front of him, and continues to do the same with the rest of his weapons. He cracks his knuckles and then his neck before he starts to cross the kitchen.

  I look at Jed. He shrugs and nods to Marco.

  I follow him into a stripped-down kitchen, with nothing but a stove, a refrigerator, and a sink. No table or chairs. We walk toward the refrigerator, the floorboards creaking beneath our feet. He stops at an empty place next to the fridge and looks over his shoulder. A smile creeps across his face as he pushes on the wall in front of him, revealing a set of stairs.

  Marco doesn’t wait for me to follow before he descends. The light bulb hanging from the ceiling offers little light. I take slow, easy steps, afraid at any moment the stairs might give way. We reach the bottom, and it’s like we’re in a whole different dimension. The room is brightly lit. There are computer monitors and TV screens everywhere. Maps and photos hang from the wall and a table sits in the middle of the room with a large map on top of it.

  “Welcome to the command center. This is where we all meet when we’re working on the same job.”

  I nod toward a door at the far end of the room. “What’s through there?”