Letting You Know

by Nora Flite

  Clapping her hands together, my mom looked at us one by one. “It's getting late, how about instead of a movie, we just grab some food and enjoy the rest of Christmas day at home?”

  Home. She calls it home.

  That made my belly flutter, it was a good sensation. “I'd like that.”

  Together, as one big group, we strolled through the mall towards the parking lot. Looking around, feeling in the middle of my own little world, a world that had never seemed to be real before... never seemed like it could be...

  I felt at peace.

  ****

  Despite us all saying it was fine if we grabbed some fast food, my mother insisted she got to cook.

  Sitting around the living room, sipping hot tea and laughing, the world felt perfect.

  Deacon sat beside my father on the sofa, I leaned on a kitchen chair that I'd brought over onto the rug, and Mom buzzed away getting plates ready.

  “You know,” I said, fiddling with my sleeve nervously. “I uh, I got you guys something. For Christmas, I mean. I want to give it to you, before I forget.” I wouldn't ever forget.

  Dad sighed, rubbing his forehead sheepishly. “Oh, honey, you didn't need to get us anything. Coming here was enough.”

  “No,” I argued, shaking my head rapidly. “I wanted to do this. Here, Mom, come sit down.”

  Laughing, pretending I was asking too much of her, she threw up her arms. “Okay okay, I'm coming. These potatoes are going to get cold, though.”

  “Who cares about potatoes?” I asked, tossing an amused look at my boyfriend.

  Blinking, he shrugged helplessly. “Me? I care, actually. They smell amazing. But you guys go ahead. I'm patient.”

  Rolling my eyes, I wiped my damp palms on my jeans and moved closer to my parents. They both sat beside Deacon on the couch, trapped by me with my chair in front of them.

  Clearing my throat, I tugged both envelopes out, fingers shaking. Offering one to each of them, I leaned back like I might get bitten. “Okay, here you go. I hope it isn't—I mean, I want you guys to...”

  “Easy,” Dad chuckled, tearing open the paper. “I'm sure we'll love it.”

  Mom worked more methodically, easing the sticky top open, keeping the envelope in one piece. “Yes, I'm betting it's perfectly—oh.” Pulling out the card inside, she gaped down at it.

  Dad shot her a glance, but she didn't seem able to move her gaze away from what I'd given each of them. “Leah, what is this?” He asked in a hushed tone.

  Blushing, I tied my hands together in my lap. “Uh, well, it's a post card.”

  Mom lifted hers up, turning it to face me. I saw the big Hollywood sign on it, the words I'd scribbled while the cashier watched patiently looking like black smudges. “I don't understand. What does this mean?”

  “Read it,” I encouraged her.

  “I have,” she whispered. “It says, 'see you soon,' why...?”

  “I'm asking you guys to come visit me,” I said quickly, self-conscious about having made the wrong decision. “Is it a dumb gift? Sorry, maybe it's a little presumptuous, I just thought—”

  My father reached across, hugging me tightly where I sat. Another set of arms, my mother, joined his. “It's wonderful,” he mumbled, sounding like his throat was tightening. “Really wonderful.”

  In my ears, I just heard Mom sniffling.

  Looking up through their embrace, I found Deacon watching me. His eyes were like melting caramel, clearly pleased by the vision before him.

  Blushing under all the attention, I wiggled them off of me. Brushing my hair back, my gaze floated around, not able to settle on either of their emotional expressions. “I'm glad you guys like the sound of it.”

  “We'll visit as soon as we can,” my mom assured me, wiping at the corners of her eyes. “I—I should go check the food.” Standing, she straightened her shirt, bustling off to hide in the kitchen.

  Dad smiled at me, giving me a subtle, but poignant, nod. He loves it. He loves what I just offered them. I made them feel welcomed.

  It was an amazing feeling.

  ****

  After dinner, it was clear we needed to hurry and see Colby if we were going to make it before it got too late.

  “Be careful driving tonight,” Mom said, standing beside us and the pile of luggage. She couldn't stop fidgeting with my scarf, tying it one way, then another.

  Reaching out, I grabbed her hands gently. “We will Mom, don't worry. I'm sure we won't even see any snow before we get back to Kentucky.”

  “Make sure to call us when you get there, too,” she added, not seeming to hear me. Still staring at the floor, she grabbed me in a hard hug, then backed away.

  Twisting, I went to hug Dad, but saw he was busy shaking Deacon's hand. “Listen,” he said quietly, seriously, “you take care of my daughter. And don't,” he added gruffly, brows drawn low, “mess this up. You hear me?”

  Deacon managed to not look phased. Gripping down hard, he gave my dad's hand another quick shake. “Of course not, sir.”

  “Josh,” he grunted, smiling mildly. “I told you, call me Josh. Now, you guys go on.” Turning to me, he yanked me in for a hug that stole the air from my lungs. “Your mother is right,” he whispered in my air, “you guys need to be careful out there.”

  “We will be,” I answered, wanting the moment to stretch on forever.

  It wasn't possible, though.

  Breaking away, I lifted my bag, gripping the front door. “Alright. You guys, take care, okay? Come and visit when you can, I love you both.”

  They waved after us as we stomped out into the early evening, snow crunching under our boots while we loaded the SUV up once more.

  Sitting there, looking out the window, I could see my parents staring at us through the window. Again, I waved, flashing the biggest smile I could, just in the hopes they would see it from where they were.

  The tires rumbled over the wet roads, taking us away from that apartment, away from my parents after such a short reunion.

  I managed to make it down the street before breaking into tears.

  “What is it?” Deacon asked, panic infecting him. “Leah, what's wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I said, wiping my eyes with a tiny laugh. “Sorry, I just got hit by a wave of... I don't even know.”

  “It's okay to miss your parents,” he assured me, slowing the car at the first turn. Reaching out, he leaned across the car, planting a soft kiss on my salty cheek. “Okay?”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, my tone nasal from sniffling. My smile, while fragile, was genuine. “I know, it just kind of sucks.”

  Deacon hesitated, leaning back in his seat as he watched me. “We don't need to go see your friend Colby. If you want to cancel, we can go back inside and—”

  “No.” I bit the word, aware that it was too easy to give in to his suggestion. “I want to see Colby, too. I wish I had a lot more time.”

  “We can visit again,” he said firmly, eyebrows lifting high. “We'll come back and spend a lot more time with everyone. Okay?”

  When will we have the money for that, as it is, we need to get back to painting as soon as we return... I don't even want to think about money, ugh.

  I made myself incline my head. “Okay.”

  The sky was a heavy, dark grey as we drove towards my old apartment. It brought me little comfort, and I could see how tense it was making Deacon.

  “I don't like the look of these clouds,” he muttered.

  “It does look like some awful storm is coming,” I admitted, my voice hushed in reverence. “Do you think it'll come down before we hit the road?”

  “Better hope not. A bad storm will make our late night drive far less romantic,” he said, flashing me a smile.

  He's scared about the storm, isn't he?

  Looking out my window, I saw the familiar coffee shop roll past. The memory of the last time I had gotten anything there was one of the most unpleasant things in my head. “Stop,” I said suddenly, pointing to the old ap
artment. “We're here.”

  “This is it?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered, fighting down the uncomfortable ripple in my belly. This is it, this is where it all happened.

  Parking across the street from the building, we climbed out quickly. It was getting late, the December daylight already eaten away.

  Lifting my hand, I shielded my eyes from the wind. It doesn't look any different. Did I expect it to?

  Even knowing that Owen wasn't inside, that there was no way for him to be here, didn't do much to settle the boiling fear in my heart.

  “Should we go knock?”

  “Hm?”

  “I said,” Deacon whispered, turning towards me with muddled concern, “should we go knock? You alright?”

  Tucking my hands into my jacket, I gave a tiny nod. “Fine. It's just weird. This is where it happened, the day he changed everything. The day I decided to just walk away.”

  Reaching out, he wrapped his arm around the crook of my elbow. “I'd think it would be a good memory, then.”

  Chuckling, I hung my head. My hair blew into my eyes, but I let it. “I guess. I never considered it like that.” Taking a giant breath, I stepped across the cobbled street, feeling him release me as I moved. “Let's go do this.”

  Jumping up the concrete steps, I pushed through the main front door of the building. The steps inside were old, no one ever bothered to mend them.

  Looking upwards, I felt a wave of vertigo. And that's where we stood when he hung my laptop over the edge and threatened me.

  Jumping over dents in the stairs, the missing chunks of carpet, we made it to the second floor apartment. Deacon stood beside me, looking around curiously. “You can hear the wind coming through the walls.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, rapping my knuckles on the door. “It was awful here in the winter.”

  It was awful here all the time.

  Inside, the sound of steps shuffling around reached our ears. Again, I reminded myself it wasn't Owen.

  Even so, when the door moved, peeling away, I had to fight my urge to run.

  Colby smiled down at me, one long arm resting on the doorway. “Holy shit,” he laughed, “you really made it.”

  Leaning forward, I threw my arms around his torso. My face hardly reached his collar bone when we hugged. “God, Colby, it's so good to see you.” The relief of not finding the person I knew couldn't have been there, it warmed my body and made me feel drained.

  Over my head, I heard Colby speak again. “And you must be Deacon. Leah's told me a lot about you in our emails.”

  “Has she?” He asked, amusement tinging his voice.

  I was glad my burning cheeks were hidden by Colby's chest.

  Inhaling a few times, calming down, I released my friend and smiled. “Can we come inside?”

  “As if I'd say no.” Turning, he waved us into the apartment. I didn't need a tour, and I didn't really want one.

  Walking through the living room, into the kitchen, my eyes kept shooting to the spot on the floor I had fallen that day. Worse, the bedroom door was slightly cracked.

  Ignoring them both, I pushed it open, peering into the darkness at the familiar blankets and piles of clothes.

  “I was going to ask if you wanted to take any of your things,” Colby said from behind me. I felt them both staring at me, watching me as I eyed the apartment like Owen was going to appear from any corner I didn't check.

  Shaking my head, I shut the door and headed towards the parlor. “No. You can do whatever you want with anything of mine. Can we sit in here?”

  “Of course,” he murmured, and I glimpsed the two men sharing a look.

  Flopping down on the couch, the familiar, beaten up old thing, I sighed. “Stop that. I'm fine, I just... I needed to see.”

  They said nothing, avoiding the topic as they settled on either side of me. “So,” Colby said, squinting like a guilty man, “this may come a bit late, but I'm really sorry about everything.”

  “Don't be. You didn't do anything.” Leaning into Deacon, I felt the comfort of his heat.

  “Not exactly. I should have probably... I don't know, warned you better?”

  My chuckle was bitter. “What? You were the one always telling me to leave. You told me you knew Owen, that he had a temper. I should have listened to you sooner.”

  Colby frowned, his fist propping his head up on the arm of the couch. “Yeah, that. Leah, I told you he had a temper, but if I had given you more details—maybe, if I had explained better or spoken up, it would never have gotten this far.”

  Pulling my knees to my chest, I watched him under lifted brows. “What are you trying to say to me?”

  He looked past me, at Deacon. “Sorry about all of this, first. I heard you came to her rescue.”

  Clenching my jaw, I turned enough to give my boyfriend an apologetic shrug. “That isn't how I put it.”

  Reaching out to smooth a strand of my hair, he just smiled. “It doesn't matter. Colby, what do you mean with all of this 'sorry' business? You aren't to blame for anything.”

  “Ugh, I sort of know that, but—listen. I grew up with Owen, I know... knew, I guess, what he was like. He went way beyond what I ever expected, in the end.” Shutting his eyes, he paused. “Maybe I didn't know him so well after all. Anyway,” he went on, peering back at us both, “when we were younger, Owen wasn't always so... nice. He had a bad attitude, he took it out on his friends and family all the time.”

  I did see him yelling at his father a lot.

  Thinking about Owen having laid all the signs of his eventual explosion at our feet made my skin cold.

  “Someone like him... someone who screams at people, who takes their anger out on others.” Colby shook his head side to side, watching me in the low lights of the room. “You should never have ended up with someone like that, Leah. No one should have to be so close to someone who would have the god damn audacity to harm another person. No matter who they are, or why.”

  My stomach twisted, hot acid burning my throat. He isn't wrong. Colby isn't wrong, but...

  Shifting nervously, I caught Deacon staring at me. Faced with those emotional eyes, I couldn't keep my gaze on him.

  I turned away, forcing down a wave of shaking.

  No, Deacon isn't like that. He isn't!

  It was too similar, too easy, to compare what Owen had done to what I knew Deacon was hiding from me about his brother.

  He hurt him. He got angry, and he hurt Nicholas, just like that. And then he hid it from me... He hid it the way Owen wanted to hide what happened with us.

  “So,” Colby sighed, seeming uncomfortable. “I hate to ask this. Owen's dad stepped up to offer rent money for the last two months. Otherwise, I haven't really heard anything about the guy. I know he got arrested for the assault, but is there any chance he'll be getting out anytime soon and coming back?”

  “No,” Deacon answered for me. “He can't post bail, I'm pretty confident. He'll be away for at least six months. We can hope for more.”

  Colby nodded, standing and cracking his back. “Got it. Good. That gives me time to get my things and move out.”

  I furrowed my brow at him. “You're going to leave?”

  “Of course. Leah, this whole thing was a nightmare for you. It was also weird having him here, not knowing what was going on, and watching him apparently planning his path to finding you and—and yeah, all of that.” Inhaling, he huffed out some air. “I don't want him to be able to find me so easily, either, when he's back out. You have a restraining order, I don't.”

  “You think he would try and hurt you?” Deacon asked, looking concerned.

  Is he wondering if Owen would come after us again someday?

  My tall friend stretched his arms up, grunting. “Man, I have no idea. But he was a tight bundle of nerves the days before he went out to California. Guy sold everything he had, apparently stole from his dad, just to get out there and find you, Leah. He's unpredictable.”

  Trembling, I hugged
my knees even harder. Beside me, I felt Deacon's hand on my shoulder.

  I wished it brought me more comfort, but I was struggling with the heavy weight of wishing I could forget the incident with Nicholas.

  “Let's talk about something more pleasant,” Colby said, shoving some forced cheer into his tone. “I hear your first gallery did really well?”

  The back and forth of small talk went on for some time. Deacon ended up carrying most of the conversation; my head was in a war zone.

  Finally, Colby looked at his watch, then peeked out of one of the window blinds. “Oh, shit. It's getting really late. Don't you guys need to hit the road?”

  “We do,” Deacon said, slightly panicked. “What time is it? I was hoping we'd get going before now, trying to avoid that storm.”

  “Good luck with that,” Colby muttered, shutting the shades with a grimace. “It looks like it really wants to start coming down. Angry clouds, for sure.” Turning, he reached out for me.

  Automatically, I stood, my body stiff and sore. Our embrace was solid, it made me feel more limber. Part of me wanted to never let go.

  “Colby, will you stay in touch?” I asked quietly.

  Blinking, he held me away with a frown. “Of course I will! You have a phone again, I'll call you constantly, until you hate it.”

  My smile was fragile, but it was still a smile.

  Stepping back, I watched Deacon and him shake hands. “It was good meeting you, finally,” my boyfriend said.

  Colby nodded, grinning crookedly. “Yeah, she's talked about you a lot, but the good news is you live up to all the hype.”

  Together they chuckled. I heard myself join in, yet in my own ears, the humor felt stale. It was hard to let any joy inside my head, when it was already stuffed to the brim with a million fears I'd been trying to make sense of for too long.

  What will I do...

  What will I do if Deacon becomes like Owen?

  Walking down those stairs, leaving that apartment behind for the second time in my life, I was worried about finding an answer.

  Chapter 20.