Running Away With You (Running #3)

by Suzanne Sweeney

  Once Auggie leaves, Evan brings his coffee into the living room and takes a seat on the sofa. I take that as a cue that I’m supposed to follow him. I sit directly across from him, point the remote at the television, and hit mute.

  Neither of us says anything right away. I can’t help but stare at his hand, still tightly bandaged from the sprain. God, how I wish none of this ever happened.

  Evan speaks first. “I’m here because I believe in second chances. Our entire relationship is built on second chances. I know I didn’t really give you an opportunity to explain, so here I am.”

  “Well, I guess I should start at the beginning, then.” I hurry into the bedroom to gather up the only evidence I still have, the second photo David sent me. The same one Adam discovered nearly three weeks ago. I place it on the table, still in the envelope, and tell Evan to open it and take a look.

  He swipes the envelope from the table, opens the flap, and slides the glossy photo out of its sleeve. His eyes grow wide when he realizes what he’s holding. He looks at me, then back at the photo. “Turn it over,” I tell him. He reads it and I can see him seething.

  Evan places the picture back in its sleeve and tosses it onto the table. “I’ve seen this before,” he tells me.

  “That’s not possible.”

  Evan gets up, leaves the room, and walks silently into his office. I hear drawers opening and closing. Moments later, Evan comes back with an envelope of his own. He tosses it onto the table and my heart actually stops. The writing on the front is identical. The address is written in scratchy uppercase printing that I recognize immediately.

  “He sent you one too.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. I already know the answer.

  Evan shakes his head. “How many did he send you?”

  There’s the one I gave to Auggie and the one Derek found. “This one and two others,” I tell him. “And you?”

  “Just this one,” he tells me. “But he said he had more.”

  The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Evan sits quietly, considering my disclosure. I want him to run to me, wrap me up in his arms, and tell me it will be all right. As he gets up from the couch, my hope quickly fades when instead of moving toward me, he walks away, pacing around the room with his fingers tangled in his hair.

  Evan stops and looks at me, showing no hint of expression. I can’t tell if he’s angry, upset, or calm. It’s unnerving.

  “Did you pay him?” he wants to know.

  I nod.

  “How much?”

  “Ten thousand the first time, another ten thousand the second,” I admit.

  He’s taking deep breaths. His mouth is pressed into a hard line and his hands are balled into tight fists that he flexes over and over. Slowly, he looks up at me and speaks, choosing his words very carefully. “Where did you get the money?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I tell him.

  “Everything matters,” he blurts out. “The smallest details matter. If I’m going to fix this, I need to know everything. You know I’m going to find out, so you may as well just tell me. Where did you get the fucking money?”

  “For the first ten thousand, I sold my earrings – the diamond teardrop earrings from Tiffany’s.”

  He nods over and over. “You sold my earrings, Juliette. The ones I bought for you, that you wore to our grand opening. The same ones you wore to the Snowflake Ball. The very earrings I hoped to see you wearing on our wedding day. Do you have any idea how much those earrings meant to me? And you threw them away, just like that?”

  “I know. I screwed up.”

  “And the second pay-off? Where did that money come from?” he asks, beginning to pace again.

  “Derek,” I tell him.

  He stops dead in his tracks, turns and looks at me again. I want to disappear, melt into the cushions and hide.

  “I’m sorry, but did you say Derek?” he repeats.

  “Yes.”

  “You confided in him. You trusted him. You turned to him when you should have turned to me – again!”

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him, hoping he can see the desperation and sincerity in my eyes. “I didn’t go to him, he found out. I never wanted him to find out. I never wanted Adam or Auggie to find out either, but they did,” I shout back.

  “Adam knows all of this?” Evan asks.

  I can’t betray Adam like this. It’s not fair. I don’t know how to answer him honestly and protect Adam at the same time.

  “Just tell me, Juliette. I’m going to find out one way or another.”

  “Yes. He went with me to make the trade in Denver.”

  “Of course he did. And neither one of you thought it might be a good idea to tell me about any of this? Did the thought ever enter your mind? You had to know I was going to find out eventually.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “And the third? You said there were three.” He pushes for an answer. “How much did you pay him for the third?”

  “I couldn’t pay him. I had no more money.”

  He doesn’t respond right away. After what feels like an eternity, he asks the question at the heart the problem. “He made you pay in another way, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. I mean no. He wanted me to, but I didn’t. I swear Evan, I didn’t. I couldn’t do it.”

  “It was his hat I found in your room. You invited him into your bedroom. Did he touch you?”

  “Yes, but ... ”

  He picks up the ceramic vase holding the amaryllis flowers he gave me and sends it flying across the room, smashing it into tiny pieces. It frightens Maddy and she runs to the bedroom to hide. “God damn it, Juliette. You should have told me. It’s my job to protect you.”

  His tone changes to one of disgust. “I can’t be here. I can’t pretend that what you did is okay, because it’s not. You had so many choices. So many opportunities to do the right thing.”

  He doesn’t understand. He’s not even trying to see it through my eyes. My voice cracks as I hotly defend myself. “I didn’t ask to be blackmailed, Evan. I didn’t ask to be videotaped without my permission. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of it. I’m sorry if I didn’t handle it the right way, but I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  “The right thing?!” he shouts at me. “You thought keeping secrets from me, lying, and inviting your perverted maniacal ex-boyfriend into your bedroom was the solution? You turned to Derek once again, when it was me you should have come to. Explain to me how that makes any sense, because right now, I’m having a lot of trouble understanding.”

  Maddy slinks slowly out of the bedroom and places herself between us. She senses the growing hostility and anger and she doesn’t like it any more than I do.

  “Remember how you reacted when you thought Ryker and I were ... you know? I was afraid of your reaction. I was afraid you might ... I don’t know ... do something.”

  “So this is my fault now?” he challenges.

  “No, I’m not saying that. What I’m trying to say is that I was afraid. I was afraid of your reaction if I told you. I was afraid of what would happen to your career and my restaurant if he went public with this. I was afraid that you wouldn’t be able to look at me the same way after seeing those videos.” As the tears begin to flow freely, I tell him by biggest fear. “I was afraid you would look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”

  “You didn’t trust me,” he states flatly.

  “You didn’t trust me, either,” I remind him. “I’m not the only one keeping secrets.”

  “No, you’re not. But I never invited another woman up to my hotel room. And I never even thought about allowing anyone else into my bed.”

  Evan gets up, grabs his keys and walks out the door. His words hurt me badly, as truthful and honest as they may be. But seeing him walk away from me hurts a thousand times worse.

  I spend the majority of the day avoiding ... well ... everyone.

  I don’t know how people do it, how they l
ive with themselves and carry on as if nothing has changed. Everything has changed.

  The guilt is weighing heavily on me like a dark cloud. It feels like I have a tattoo across my forehead that reads, Liar, cheater, fraud. Evan has every right to be mad. I may not have slept with David, but I was unfaithful. I invited him into my bed. He watched me undress. He touched me. I crossed the line. I let it go too far. I fucked up, royally.

  The workout room is my perfect retreat. I turn on the television and, for the first time ever, I violate Evan’s strict policy forbidding anyone to turn off ESPN. Flipping through the channel guide, I settle on one of my favorite uplifting movies, Pitch Perfect. It’s got a great soundtrack and the surround-sound speakers fill the room with music.

  I can lose myself here for hours. The side of the room facing the beach is wrapped in large windows, giving me a panoramic view of the ocean. It’s beginning to snow and the water is eerily calm. The slow and constant ebb and flow of the waves helps soothe my frayed nerves. In no time at all, I realize my breathing has matched the roll of the tide.

  The room is full of equipment. Everywhere I look, I see ghostly images of Evan working out on each and every one of them. I can picture him on the rowing machine, flexing his muscles as he moves gracefully forward and back, over and over again. If I close my eyes, I can smell him, his uniquely masculine scent dripping with testosterone and virility.

  I need to run, even if running here on the treadmill literally gets me nowhere. I discover that if I slow my pace just right, I can sing along with the Bellas as they perform on the screen. I know the words to every song by heart, and there is no one here to judge me when I’m off-key.

  There was a time when I could barely string together a coherent sentence as I ran; now I’m singing an entire song, chorus and all.

  It’s hard to focus on any one thing – the plot, the songs, or even the stats on the treadmill. My eyes wander around the room. Sometimes I lose all traces of thought as I gaze out the wall of windows.

  I never bothered to look out any of the other windows on either side of the room. There is no competing with the view of the ocean. But I have a new reason to look out one window in particular; my new neighbors. I have a birds-eye view of Derek’s house. There are two cars parked in the driveway. I recognize one as Derek’s and I surmise the owner of the small SUV is Shea. It’s been parked there all day.

  I’m so glad he’s found someone to share his life with, but I can’t help but wonder if Shea will become a part of Evan’s life as well. Solving the mystery of Kai’s parentage has been put on the back burner – indefinitely.

  I think it’s time to change to the spinning bike. The moment I climb onto the machine, it’s obvious its settings are primed for someone much larger. My feet barely reach the pedals and the handlebars are entirely too high for me. I hop off and begin to fumble with the adjustments, doing my best to estimate the proper height and distances. Before getting back on, I pause the movie, grab my water bottle, and head downstairs for an icy-cold refill.

  Maddy alerts me that something or someone is here with very aggressive barking. Her suspicions are confirmed when the front doorbell rings. I peek cautiously out the front window and see a strange car sitting in my driveway.

  Even though it’s only five o’clock, it’s getting dark out. I hesitate to answer the door when I’m home alone. While I debate with myself, there’s a rather forceful knock on the door, followed by a deep male voice. “Point Pleasant Police.” The voice is a familiar one, and I recognize it as belonging to Officer Harper, who helped me last summer with my stalker. But what is he doing here, and why isn’t he wearing a uniform? There’s only one way to find out.

  I quiet down Maddy’s barking, but keep her close by. When I open the door, I am greeted by the familiar and friendly face of Officer Harper. “It’s so very nice to see you again, Officer Harper. What brings you out here tonight?”

  He offers his hand for a friendly greeting. “Miss Fletcher, always a pleasure. It’s now Detective Harper. Do you have a moment?” His presence is anything but intimidating. He has a wide smile, wavy hair in desperate need of a trim, and a prominent nose. He’s only a few inches taller than I am and only slightly older than Evan, dressed in a leather jacket covering his dress shirt and dark Dockers.

  He introduces his partner, Detective Guardino. He, on the other hand, has a starkly different energy. His face is round, with a scruffy beard and mustache that are most likely the result of several days gone by without shaving. He’s dressed in a suit and tie, but none of it quite fits him. His hair is thinning and there is no hint of kindness in his eyes. He doesn’t need to say a word to be intimidating.

  There’s no way I’m inviting these men into my home right now. “I’d invite you in, but I’m on my way out. Evan is expecting to meet me for dinner shortly. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “We don’t want to keep you. We just have a few questions for you,” Detective Harper explains.

  Detective Guardino nods, and his eyes are trained on me as if he’s studying a puzzle. “Miss Fletcher, can you tell us if you’re familiar with a man named David Jorgenson?” he blurts out.

  My vision narrows and I feel as if the air has just been sucked out of my lungs. I hold on tightly to the doorknob, trying to steady my wobbly knees, hoping I haven’t already given away too much. “Yes, of course. We dated in college.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?” Officer Harper asks.

  “I don’t understand,” I tell him. “What is this all about?”

  Detective Harper hands me a business card. “Can you stop down at the police station tomorrow to answer a few questions?”

  “I don’t think so,” I tell him. “David and I broke up a long time ago. I can’t imagine what this could possibly have to do with me.”

  It’s Detective Guardino who explains. “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing, really.” He reaches into his pocket and removes a small leather-bound notebook and flips through the pages looking for something. “Oh, yes. Here it is. It seems that Mr. Jorgenson disappeared from his hotel room in Indianapolis yesterday. His room was ransacked and all his personal possessions were left behind. They found his phone, and yours is one of the last numbers to appear in his call history. We’re hoping you can tell us what he was doing there.”

  I can feel the blood drain from my face. Detective Guardino must have noticed, because he takes one look at me and smiles. “I’m sure this must be a shock to hear. Please call the station tomorrow and we’ll set something up for you.”

  The two turn to leave, but before they get very far, Detective Harper turns and adds, “And please bring Mr. McGuire if you can. We have a few questions for him as well.”

  I close the door behind them, lock it tightly, and set the alarm. The house is deathly silent and the rooms are filling with the darkness of night. No one is here to help me. I have never felt more alone.

  There are a few things I am certain of. First, that Evan has the right to know what just happened without delay. The police want to talk to him and I need to tell him immediately.

  The second thing I know for sure is that even though I have no idea what’s happened to David, I cannot speak to the police without a lawyer present. And Evan is the only one who knows how to contact our lawyer.

  What makes matters worse is the fact that I haven’t spoken to Evan since he left early this morning. I seriously doubt he would answer the phone if I called.

  I consider calling Adam. Surely he could get Evan on the phone. But then I remember my treacherous confession and reconsider. Evan is probably not speaking to Adam either.

  It might be cowardly, but I decide to stop wasting time and just send Evan a text.

  Jette: please come home. The police were here. Something happened yesterday.

  Evan: im on my way

  I don’t know how much more I can take. Another confrontation with Evan might just put me over the edge. I feel like the world is crashing down around me and ther
e’s nothing I can do to stop it. I’m just a passenger, strapped in and dragged perilously along, constantly being thrown by violent bends and turns.

  I drag myself through the house so I can feed the dog and clean up from my workout while I wait for Evan to arrive.

  Every part of my body hurts. My head aches and I’m bone-crushingly tired. I take three nighttime painkillers that I find in my bathroom medicine cabinet. All I want to do is sleep. Maybe when I wake up, I’ll discover this was all a dream. Evan will be in bed beside me, his legs tangled with mine and his breath caressing my cheek.

  I grasp the sink and gaze into the mirror before me. I hardly recognize the person staring back. Tears trickle down my face as I stare at the gaunt, pink-eyed creature in the mirror.

  I strip off my clothes and step into the shower, letting the hot water wash away my salty tears. It’s too damned much. I sink to the floor and surrender to the overwhelming emotions I can no longer contain, weeping huge chest-wrenching sobs, finally letting my tears flow unrestrained. I bawl into my hands as the sound of the water cascading from the shower echoes off the walls.

  “Shhh,” Evan says as he steps into the shower with me, still dressed in a T-shirt and sweat pants. “Please don’t cry,” he begs. Kneeling in front of me, he pulls my hands away from my tearstained cheeks and cups my face in his hands.

  I gaze at him, blinking away my tears. “What are you doing here?”

  “You told me to come home.” He pulls me into his arms and holds me for the longest time as the water gushes over us. He lets me cry into his chest. Occasionally he kisses my hair, but he doesn’t let go. He just rocks me gently beneath the warm water. What a sight the two of us must be; Evan fully dressed, sitting on the floor of the shower, holding his pathetically tearful and naked fiancée.

  I put my arms around him and weep into his neck. Humming softly into my hair, he gently strokes my back. “I’m here,” he whispers, and that makes me cry harder and hug him tighter. We sit like that forever. Eventually, when I’m all cried out, Evan staggers to his feet, holding me, and wraps a thick white bath towel around me.