The other man shakes his head. “No. Too many witnesses around tonight. Find out where he lives. We’ll take care of him later.”
I gasp against Trevor’s palm. They can’t be serious. They’re talking about killing someone as if it’s an errand they need to run.
They continue beat the shit out of Max. He fights back at first, gets a few punches in, but that just pisses his attackers off even more. When he receives a blow to the face, I struggle against Trevor, but he continues to hold me down. “You can’t let them know we heard them, Char,” he whispers against my ear.
I can’t watch anymore of this. Feeling helpless, I close my eyes, wincing each time I hear a noise. I know only seconds pass, but my adrenaline is pumping so fast it feels like an eternity.
“Garcia has a message for you,” someone says, and I look up. “He says the next time you come around asking for him will be the last.”
With that said, the men head back inside, leaving Max lying there on the ground.
“Let’s go get him,” Trevor says now that we’re in the clear.
We jump the hedges, and the two of us are on the veranda in an instant. Surprisingly, Max stands up without needing help. He’s brushing himself off as he sees the two of us approach. He looks me over once, his lips swollen and bleeding. I don’t miss the hard, accusing look he steers on Trevor. “I’ll kill you for mixing her up in this.”
“Doesn’t look like you’re in good enough shape to kill anyone at the moment,” Trevor points out. “So let’s get out of here before your friends come back.”
Before Max has a chance to argue with that, I say, “I’ll drive you. I can take you to the nearest hospital.”
“I’m not going to a hospital. The two of you can leave the same way you came.”
He walks away, leaving me standing there feeling struck. I figured he might be mad, but I never thought he’d be upset enough to turn me away.
“Don’t worry about it,” Trevor says softly. “He just needs some time to cool off.”
“What if he has a concussion and wrecks on his way home?”
“We’ll follow him back to the house. It’ll be all right.”
Trevor and I both stay quiet on the drive home, both too shaken by what we saw to say anything. We follow behind Max’s pickup truck, watching his every move. At least he seems to be driving without difficulty. He doesn’t swerve or brake too hard or drive off center. It makes me feel a little better, but not much.
When we pull up to the house, Max completely ignores us. He slams his truck door, heading inside without a single word. I remember the last time this happened and the way Max reacted, using me as a way to escape Trevor and Stephanie’s questions.
“How often does this happen?” I ask Trevor.
“Let’s just say I’m surprised he’s still alive.”
“Doesn’t he realize he’s just one person?”
Trevor shrugs. “He doesn’t care. He won’t give up until either he finds his sister, or Garcia is dead. Or maybe both.”
Suddenly I get it.
Why Trevor is here. Why he refuses to leave. It’s like he’s on constant standby, waiting for Max to disappear, to hear news of his death, or to find out he’s gone to prison—who knows. I finally get why it’s always so tense between the two of them.
I march up the front porch steps, not surprised when Max is nowhere to be found. I go straight up to his bedroom, opening the door without knocking. He’s inside, standing by the window, holding an icepack to his face. He keeps his back turned to me.
That’s fine, I tell myself. He doesn’t have to say anything. All he has to do is listen.
“What you’re doing is selfish.”
“You don’t know the first thing about what I’m doing.” His biting response surprises me. I figured he’d keep giving me the silent treatment.
“I know that you’re putting yourself in danger. I know that it’s not fair to your cousin or to anyone who loves you.”
“There’s a lot of things in life that aren’t fair.”
“Revenge comes at a high price. It’s never going to give you the peace you’re looking for, and someone always ends up losing in the end.”
He turns around, the anger in his gaze unmistakable. “How did you find out?”
I could lie, but I don’t feel like it. This needs to be an honest conversation. “I researched you online, and then I read more about it in a journal you left in my room.”
“You had no right—”
“I only read one entry. I’m not saying it was right, but I wanted to know more about you. Getting to know you isn’t easy when you try so hard to keep everyone away.”
He takes a step toward me. “Are you satisfied? Now that you know about my sad little tragedy?”
I swallow, trying not to back down. “I wish it had come from you, and no, it doesn’t satisfy me to know about the horrifying things that happened to you. It makes me angry. It makes me furious. No one should have to experience what you went through.”
He moves even closer, clenching his jaw. “So you understand my anger, but you criticize my need for revenge.”
“When you’re risking your life, yes. You walked out of that church a survivor, Max. Why throw away everything you have? You know how it feels to lose loved ones. Why would you risk passing on that hurt to Trevor, to Stephanie…and to me?” I whisper the last part out.
“Everything I have?” He laughs bitterly. “What I have is a life full of sleepless nights. Every time I close my eyes, I see their faces. I dream about their deaths, their screams, their blood, until I wake up in a cold sweat. What I have is a life I don’t fucking care about. All the money in the world, a thriving business—and I’d give it all up just to put a knife in Garcia’s heart. I didn’t ask for Trevor to come here. I didn’t ask for him or anyone else to care, because I don’t want anyone to care. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m on a suicide mission, but if it gets me one step closer to killing Garcia, I’ll do whatever it takes.”
My chest constricts, making it harder to breathe. Hearing how he feels hurts me in more ways than one. Deep down I know this isn’t about me, but when I hear him talk about his meaningless life, and how he wishes no one cared, he’s lumping me into that box too. I haven’t been in his life that long, but I thought what we have might be worth something to him.
I shake my head as I stare at him. “I won’t watch you do this to yourself.”
“You don’t have to, kid. You can leave anytime you want.”
His words pinch at my insides, twisting me apart. “You said that like you don’t care one way or another.”
He doesn’t even flinch. “I already have Trevor chasing after me, acting like my goddamned keeper. I don’t need you to do it too.”
“Your keeper…” Just the other day, he told me never to leave. Now he’s saying he doesn’t care if I do. The constant push-pull is getting too hard to handle. Tears sting at my eyes, but I blink them back. He’s not going to see me cry. “You’re an asshole, you know that, Max?”
“You’re just now noticing?”
For a few seconds, I stare at him, searching his dark eyes for hidden emotions. But it’s like the guy is made of stone. I need to get out of here before he sees me fall apart.
Turning my back on him, I walk away. As I do, there’s a lingering sense of hope that he might stop me. My breath is caught in my throat, waiting for him to take back everything he said, waiting to hear him tell me he didn’t mean it. But he doesn’t stop me. He doesn’t take any of it back. I laugh to myself, shaking my head. Ironic, now that I think about it. He told me he wouldn’t run once he’d taken what he wanted from me. In a way, he was right. He doesn’t have to run. Because he’s forcing me to do it.
THIRTY
Max
I feel like shit. My head is killing me. My top lip feels like it’s split in two. The pain isn’t the worst part though—the worst part is knowing I deserve every wince. I deserve the aching, the stinging,
the pressure, the bruising—all of it. Because the only thing I accomplished last night was to piss everyone off. I knew Garcia was there, but I couldn’t get to him in time. Right before his thugs grabbed me, I caught a glimpse of him, and I could’ve sworn he looked right at me. It’s almost like he knows who I am. I wouldn’t be surprised if he does.
“Mornin’, asshole,” Trevor greets me as I walk into the kitchen.
I ignore him and fill a glass with water from the fridge, using it to down some painkillers.
He sits on the barstool across from me, his palms pressed against the granite countertop. “We need to talk about the people who did this to you,” Trevor tells me point blank. “Charlotte and I overheard them planning to find out where you live. They would’ve killed you last night, but they wanted to wait until there are no witnesses.”
“I figured as much. They took my wallet.” I rub the back of my head. One of them managed to shove me against the concrete, and now I feel a lump forming. Bastards.
Stephanie walks in, setting grocery bags down on the counter. “Max, you need to put some ice on that. There’s a bag of frozen peas in the freezer. Use those.”
“So you’re telling me they know where we live?” Trevor asks, worried.
“No,” I say, opening the freezer door. “I carried an alias wallet. It had fake IDs, fake credit cards, fake everything.”
Trevor considers this. “Maybe you’re not as big of a dumbass as I thought.”
The thing is, I am.
I’m the biggest dumbass in the world.
The things I said to Charlotte…I wince again. That conversation is still haunting me. Between the look in her eyes when I told her to leave and letting Garcia get away, I feel like a failure all around. I don’t know why I blew up like I did. Maybe it had to do with seeing her there. She put herself at risk just by coming. I don’t think I could’ve forgiven myself if something happened to her. She’s infiltrating every part of my life, even the parts I want to keep hidden. She’s becoming more important. Knowing something could happen to her is enough to make me stop chasing Garcia, and I’m not ready to give up just yet.
The least I can do is apologize though. She deserves that much from me. The problem is, I have no clue where to begin.
“Are you hungry?” Steph asks me, turning on the sink faucet to wash her hands. “I’m planning to cook a big breakfast. Eggs, bacon, hash browns, a few pancakes too.”
“Maybe later. Save some leftovers for me.”
She looks over my face, shaking her head. “When is it ever going to be enough for you, Max?”
“For fuck’s sake, Steph. Don’t start on me right now.”
Her mouth tightens, but she doesn’t say anything else, busying herself with preparing breakfast.
Once I gather up enough courage, I leave to go check on Charlotte. I’m still nervous. I’m not sure what to say, but I need to make it right.
Her bedroom door is open, and it makes me pause. Something is wrong. I slowly step inside and look around.
She’s not here. All her things are gone. The bed is made. Everything is in the exact place it was before she moved in.
I’m not sure if I’m even surprised.
She didn’t even leave a note. She just…left. The room twists and spins into a blur. I see it, but I don’t see any of it. Pressure builds inside of my chest until it feels like I’m going to explode.
She left.
I throw my fist into the door.
The wood cracks, splintering open. For a short-lived moment, I feel better. And then I feel worse. I shake out my throbbing, bloody fist. One more injury to add to the list.
She’s gone.
I can’t fucking believe it.
THIRTY-ONE
Char
Hayes Barnaby sizes me up with a distrusting look. “A few questions first,” he says before letting me inside the door. “Do you clean up after yourself?”
“Of course.”
“Do you wash your dishes right away?”
“Yes.”
“Scrape the lint from the dryer vent after every use?”
“Um, usually.”
“Sanitize the bathroom?”
“Yes.”
“How often?” he probes.
“About once a week, I suppose.”
“That’s better than my last roommate, but I’d like it done everyday.”
“Don’t you have two bathrooms?”
“Yes.”
“So then we don’t have to share, right?”
“No, we don’t have to share,” he says without further explanation. “What about your dirty laundry? Do you wash it right away or throw it on your bedroom floor?”
“I put it in a hamper until I have enough for a load.”
He shakes his head, making tsk tsk noises. “No, that won’t do. If you want to stay here, you’ll need to wash it right away.”
I take a deep breath. This guy is already getting on my nerves. “How will my dirty laundry affect you? You won’t even see it.”
“Yes, but I’ll know it’s there. It’ll drive me nuts.”
“All right, Hayes, listen up.” I lift my sunglasses over my head, giving him my best look of intimidation. “You’ve lost five roommates in two months. I get that you have this whole weird OCD thing going on, so the way I see it, you have two choices: Either you live here happily by yourself or let me and my germs move in to help you with rent. Which one is it going to be?”
He thinks about it for a long moment, and then sighs. “Take off your shoes before you come inside.”
After that, he shows me to my room. I figure he might hang around to show me how to organize my belongings, but he doesn’t. Thankfully.
I set my things down on the floor to look around the small bedroom, a little in disbelief. I sit on the edge of the twin-sized bed, staring at the wall. Here I am, back in Gainesville. The shock still hasn’t worn off.
My initial plan was to move in with Doll, but I scratched that option when I found out Gwen still works as her maid. When I called Doll on the drive here, she tried her best to convince me it wouldn’t be a problem. “Come on, Char. You’re being ridiculous. Wes and I lived with each other for three and a half years without even speaking. I’m sure you won’t even notice Gwen is here.”
“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. “She’d probably clean out the toilets with my toothbrush out of spite.”
“What about the sorority house then? Don’t you have like a million friends?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not going back to the sorority, and besides, I want some space from them. I’m not ready to dive back into my old life.”
I heard Doll’s sigh come from the other end of the line. “Well, I do know someone who needs a roommate, but I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it.”
A few hours later, I ended up at Hayes Barnaby’s apartment. The truth is, I’m okay with it. The apartment building is located off campus in a woodsy area, and living here will give me space to collect myself before letting people know I’m back.
My phone dings. A new text message. A flicker of hope ignites; maybe it’s from Max. There’s a small part of me that hopes he’ll ask me to come back before this all becomes my reality again.
The text is from Stephanie.
Come back. We miss you.
I swallow, knowing I feel the same. I wish I didn’t. If I could gather all my emotions and put them in a bottle, I’d throw it into the sea and never look back. If I didn’t have to feel things this deeply, life wouldn’t be so hard.
I don’t reply to her text. Cutting things off is better for all of us. She’s part of Max’s world, and this is mine. What I want to say lingers in the air unsaid. I miss you too.
***
Over the next several weeks, I get a text everyday, either from Trevor or from Stephanie. I never respond to them, but they keep coming. Each one is different. Sometimes they make me laugh.
Trevor: When the delivery guy rang the bell, I w
as nice to him. Something is clearly wrong. I’m going to the doctor’s tomorrow. What if they tell me I only have three months to live? You better get back here fast.
Stephanie: Trevor thinks he’s dying. He’s using it as an excuse to eat all the ice cream you bought.
Trevor: My last wish is to see you before I leave this world…who knows how long I have left…it could be any day now…(choking noises)
Stephanie: He’s actually gagging himself. Please save me before I kill him for real
Sometimes they make me cry. Actually, the majority of them make me cry.
Trevor: Max punched a hole in your bedroom door. The guy is losing his damn mind without you.
Stephanie: He’s working at the office again. I wish it was because he wants to, but I think it’s because he’s trying to keep himself busy :(
Trevor: If you were here, you could tell him how stupid he is for letting you go. I told him, and he said, “Mind your own fucking business.” He’s been a real treat these last couple of weeks. Seriously. Joy and laughter.
Stephanie: I think he knows he messed up. He’s just too stubborn to admit it.
Trevor: I brought Batman home from the pound when he was a puppy. Max has no idea. He thinks he just showed up on our doorstep out of the blue. I never told him because if he knew I was behind it, he would’ve returned Batman. He needs to believe fate brought the two of them together. Just like he needs to believe fate brought you to him. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I guess I wish it were just as easy to pick up a Charlotte from the pound. Turns out, you’re one of a kind.
It’s hard for me to read the messages, and even harder to believe them. If what they are saying is true, then why haven’t I heard from Max? His silence tells me more than anything. It tells me that he doesn’t care enough to change things. Besides, he’s the one who told me to leave. He could just as easily tell me he didn’t mean it. But he hasn’t. He hasn’t told me anything at all.
Rebounding Page 21
