by Amelia Wilde
I lost her.
I lost her.
I lost her.
It’s the only thought that circles my mind as clouds cover the stars and the moon sets. As the weak winter sun rises over fresh snow. As I tell Daphne that Haley is gone and won’t be back. As I take in her shocked expression with detached recognition. Why is she surprised? This is how it has to be. The sun peaks and falls below the horizon.
I lost her.
It’s irritating for its inaccuracy. I didn’t lose Haley. I sent her away. With my own two hands. She fought. Screamed. Cried. I put her in the SUV anyway and sent her to her father. I did it because I had to. We were at the end of the line. She touched her father’s face on the TV screen and I knew, I knew, that was it. That’s all I could ever offer her. Winston wasn’t convinced, or he couldn’t convince Caroline. Either way. Haley can’t live like that. I’ll never be a replacement for her family. She loves them. They love her. People like Haley belong with their families.
End of the line. Now I’m past it.
Mrs. Page comes into my office on the second day with a sandwich.
She tries again on the third day with a bowl of my favorite soup.
On the fourth day, she’s desperate. The teacup trembles in her hands. “It has milk and sugar,” she says. “You need to have something if you’re not eating, Mr. Morelli.”
“I’m not sleeping, either. Is there anything else you wanted to know?”
She leaves the tea on my desk. It goes cold, and after a few hours, it disappears again.
I don’t stop eating to spite Mrs. Page. It just no longer seems worthwhile. Sleeping would be an escape, but it’s not available to me. I’ve never stayed so long at the peak of my pain. It started when I watched Haley lose her shit over her dad having a heart attack and it hasn’t let up. It makes no distinction between my back and the rest of my body. My head throbs and burns. My bones are broken shards. My nerves are piano wire cutting through flesh.
For these four days, I sit through meetings like a fucking corpse. I don’t hear a thing anyone says. I send emails I don’t remember sending. My business runs on autopilot. Daphne pokes her head into my office every afternoon and talks to me with worried eyes. She’s painting a wall in her suite. She’s painting the ocean. She’s painting an underwater forest. Are you okay? I’m fine. I’m busy. I’m working. Go back to your painting, Daphne.
I am not fine.
I’m a pillar of flame. A torched cathedral. Ash burns to ash. It hurts too much to bear. The pain tears out my mind and throws it on the pyre of my soul. Dante would have jumped into boiling glass to escape the heat of purgatory. But he was promised paradise. There’s no such promise for me. I had her in my hands, and I let her go.
On the fourth night I attend a last, desperate Mass at St. Thomas’s. I spend the entire thing on my feet, gripping the back of a pew. Sitting is beyond me. Kneeling is beyond me. When I approach the altar for Communion, Father Simon asks if he should call an ambulance.
Of course not, of course not. What would they do? Bring her back to me?
It’s past one when I return and climb the stairs. I’ve been avoiding my bedroom, and my private library, because Haley’s books are there. I thought it would spare me more pain, but the opposite has happened. As of this morning I’ve started to hallucinate her.
I don’t go to the library. I go to the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. If my mind is already short-circuiting, which it is, I might as well lean into it.
There is a bottle in the medicine cabinet. Every six months, it gets taken out and replaced with a new one. I suspect Gerard, or Mrs. Page. I suspect they are in league with Eva. In eighteen years, I’ve never opened one of the bottles.
Father Simon told me once that refusing painkillers isn’t a penance that’s required of me, but that’s not why I do it. Or—penance is the least of those reasons. When Eva brought me home from the hospital all those years ago, seven pills came with me in my bag. Taking the first one was enough to know it wouldn’t be an option. Not for me. Not if I wanted to be alert enough to protect my siblings from my father, and to protect my secret from my siblings. The amount it takes to touch the pain is enough to render me unconscious. I told myself that one day I would be in a position to take them.
It’s never been true. The years have added more responsibilities. More threats. And a reputation that makes it more necessary than ever not to offer that kind of weakness to my enemies. I would never forgive myself if I missed something. If I let danger through because I couldn’t handle the pain.
I woke up from that first and only pill in a cold sweat. It had made me defenseless, made my siblings defenseless, and stole my ability to know when our father was arriving home. The clutching fear set off a new round of pain.
It’s been a long eighteen years.
I take the bottle out of the cabinet and shake it. It’s full. A month’s worth of pills at least.
Enough.
In my office, a bottle of whiskey waits for me in my desk drawer. I don’t particularly like whiskey. Lucian gave it to me as a joke. It burns going down, but my brother was right. It is a joke. A fucking joke. It goes to my head but it doesn’t touch the pain. I can see Haley out of the corner of my eye. Not all of her, just a flash of blonde hair and the glimmer of sunlight in her blue eyes. If I look directly at her, she disappears. I make a game of it. Drink. Look for her outline. Drink some more. Consider the glass paperweight on my desk. Drink. The paperweight is shaped like a rose. Daphne gave it to me when she was twelve. She was so proud of it. The whiskey loses its burn and its taste.
I’ll never see Haley again. She’ll stay with her father, and she’ll help him recover from his heart attack, and she won’t be able to leave. She won’t want to leave. She’ll realize that’s where she is supposed to be. A good daughter. A good sister. Not mine. Never mine. God. Fuck. It hurts. Does it make me a coward to open the pills and take one out? Does it make me a coward to take one? What about two? Three?
I abandon both bottles and take out my phone. I have a question for a person I talked to once. I have a fucking question. Does it make me a coward that I couldn’t ask him before? I’m quite drunk now. Drunk enough that it’s difficult to search my call log for the number. Consciousness starts to play hide-and-seek between rings.
“I don’t have anything you want, Leo. You got your book. Did she like it?” The coldest voice I’ve ever heard spears through my drunkenness. Colder than Lucian’s voice. Colder than snow. Colder than the void of my life without Haley.
“She wept to see it.”
A silence. I hate Hades’ silences. What a prick. “You’ve been drinking.”
“I’ve been dying.”
“In what sense?”
“All of them. And me with no one to say the last rites.”
“If it’s a priest you’re looking for—”
“No. No. I wanted an answer.” Ah—there she is. Getting clearer all the time. Hallucination or dream? I’ll take either one.
“I’ll require the question first.” In the background, a door closes. Is he in his office too? Or somewhere with his wife? I don’t have a wife. I don’t have Haley.
“You’re so fucking demanding.”
“This from the man who’s called me in the middle of the night. Ask.”
“You said you were acquainted with pain.” Haley disappears again. “What kind is it?”
“It’s nerve pain related to a genetic sensitivity to light. My past history worsened the condition.”
“You get headaches or something?”
“I have seizures. Preceded by pain I would describe as excruciating. It’s the feedback loop of the pain that causes the episodes. This isn’t what you want to know. Ask the question.”
“You can’t be a ruthless terror if you have—” A hiccup interrupts me. “If you have seizures. That would make you weak.”
Hades laughs, the sound icy and dark, the tone a vivid illustration of fuck around and find out. “Perhaps. Though
it has had little to no effect on my reputation.”
“How?”
“No one in the outside world knows. As far as they’re concerned, I am—how did you put it? A prick with strange eyes.”
“I know. You just told me.”
“You’re drunk. And you sound like you’ve taken pills.”
“Just a few. But I can’t take them normally. Only on special occasions.”
“What’s the occasion tonight?”
“I lost Haley. I sent her out of my house to save her. I won’t see her again. And even if a fucking miracle happened, even if she came back to me, I have nothing to give her.” I stifle a bitter, unhinged laugh. “I’ll die like this. Either I’ll die from the pain, or I’ll be a fucking coward and die from a hit while I’m incapacitated by painkillers. I have too many enemies to risk them.” The dark is closing in. Haley brushes her fingertips over my cheek. “Did you find a way to live with it? Did you find some secret? Or do you just wait to die? That’s what I want to know.”
“A secret for a secret. What happened to you eighteen years ago?”
God help me. I tell him. I just fucking tell him, slipping into a nightmare. He’s a voice on the phone. A windswept mountain. A prick with strange eyes. A confessor. And he keeps his word. When I’m done talking a lifetime later, he tells me a story like a fucking fever dream. About a farm and a mountain. A white building in the city and the sea. And a wide green field with red poppies.
I fold my arms on my desk and put my head down. Bless me, for I have sinned. I don’t receive absolution before I fall into a black, eternal night.
A door opens.
A gasp.
“Leo.”
I’ve been here a long time. I don’t want to wake up. Don’t want to come back. Can’t move.
“Oh, shit. Oh my god. Oh my god.” Glass scrapes on wood. Shut up. Shut up. I’m not here. A muffled sob. “No, Leo, No. Oh, shit, what do I do? What do I—Leo. Please? Leo—”
A hand meets my shoulder blade and pain erupts over my skin. It takes me off the desk with a roar. I sweep one hand out to get them the fuck away. “Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t touch me.” Jesus, it hurts. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I stand up to get out from under it and brace two fists on the desk.
“I thought you were dead.” Daphne stares, her face pale, eyes shining with tears and terror. “You weren’t moving, Leo. Have you been in here all night? Did you drink all of that?” She points a shaking finger at the bottle on my desk.
“Get out.” I glare at her, and she shrinks back. “Get the fuck out.”
“No. I can’t leave you in here. I thought you were dead. Did you try to kill yourself? You’re—you’re scary like this.” I sit down hard in the chair, the fight going out of me. The pain stays. It’s Daphne. My sister. It’s just Daphne.
“I didn’t try to kill myself. I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.” She swallows. Clears her throat. “You’re so pale. And you were so still. I know you’re not fine. I can see you.” She approaches the desk, and I fucking hate this. I hate what I’ve become. “I think I should call Eva. She would know what to do.”
“She has her own heartbreak to deal with. Her own life.”
Daphne’s tugs on the collar of her shirt. “Why don’t you go to her? Why don’t you go to Haley?”
I rub my hands over my face and try not to resist the pain. Resistance only makes it worse. “Because I love her.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Daphne’s crying now, and I see how badly I scared her. “If you love her, you should be with her. And you do. I know you do.”
“My love for her is more than that. It’s strong enough to let her go.” I take a breath I don’t want to take. A breath that hurts like a bitch. “She has a family. Those are her people. I was always fooling myself that she could be mine.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Haley
Leo was a dream, and I’m awake now. Awake in a hospital room next to my dad’s bed. Awake with a book in my hands, wearing old clothes from my closet.
Back in my old life.
Though in my old life, I could fall into a book and let it take the hours away. Now the words make no impression. I keep having to start the page over. My dad sleeps in his bed, oblivious to everything. He’s improving now that we’re a few days past his surgery. Sleeping better.
I’ve read five paragraphs without taking in a thing. Maybe I shouldn’t have submitted my deferment this morning. Maybe schoolwork would be easier to concentrate on. There are grades to think about, at least.
I swallow a snort. Grades. I don’t think I could bring myself to care about grades. They used to matter to me. They used to be everything to me. Grades and books and my family. They’ll be everything to me again. Hopefully by spring semester.
It would be a good idea to get a notebook and a pen and make a plan for the next few months. First thing on my list is to get my dad back to good health. He’s the only parent I have left, and I love him. I need him and his disorganized presence in my life. Second is to figure out how I’m going to get back to school after a semester-long delay. And third is to hope against all hope that I’ll stop feeling like a clawed animal has reached inside my chest and torn it apart for sport.
“Hi, Haley.” The evening nurse bustles in, keeping her voice low. She’s efficient with her checks. “I wanted to let you know, hon, that we’ll have to reauthorize the hospital stay within the next twenty-four hours.”
“Okay.” My heart rate spikes. Reauthorizing the stay means coming to a new payment agreement with Caroline. If Caroline won’t pay, the hospital will discharge my dad. They can do it as long as he’s in stable condition. Which he is. I’d just have to keep him that way at home. “Will you let me know if you need anything from us?”
“Of course I will.” She takes some notes on her clipboard. “Back in a while. Use the Call button if you need anything. If I’m not here another nurse will help you.”
There’s no dedicated team just for my dad here. The difference between his hospital stay and Leo’s breaks my heart. Everything breaks my heart. I’m going to be walking around with a useless muscle in the center of my chest forever. If only it would ease up on the aching hurt. I’d settle for being numb.
Soft footsteps come in through the door. The nurse must have forgotten something from her list. Good. I can ask her what medicine is in the IV. I open my mouth to do it.
And shut it again.
It’s not the nurse moving into the room as if she owns it.
It’s Caroline.
She’s in her beautiful Prada coat. A brilliant white against the tired walls. Her hair is in a shining, complicated knot. Bright eyes. Pink cheeks. I could be standing at a Constantine party like we went to as kids. Me in threadbare clothes, trying not to do anything embarrassing in front of perfect Caroline. My skin crawls. Her perfection is a lie. Below the glamorous clothes and the gorgeous face is a corrupt nightmare.
A genteel tilt of her head as she peers at my dad. “He hasn’t breathed his last?”
My book snaps closed in my hands. How dare she? Prickling indignation makes my muscles ache. I can’t react to her. I can only respond. We need her now, so I have to be polite. I can’t risk my dad’s care. “He’s in stable condition after the surgery. They had to go back in yesterday for a minor fix, but he’s resting a lot more comfortably now. His doctors don’t want him released for another few days so they can be sure he’s ready for the next step.”
“Mm-hmm. Your father is going to have a long recovery.”
“I’ll be by his side. I’m not leaving.”
Caroline’s eyes meet mine for the first time since she came into the room. Cold. The blue in her eyes is so cold, and edged in satisfaction. “Good. You’ve spent too long as a Morelli whore as it is.”
My breath catches in my throat. Her words should be meaningless. They shouldn’t sting at all. But they’re side by side with the truth. I was a whore for Leo Morelli. I cou
ldn’t get enough of him. I wanted all of him, forever, and Caroline destroyed everything we had.
I blink at her, lifting my eyebrows a fraction of an inch. A hint of shock. I’ve seen Caroline deploy this expression at parties to keep the people around her in line.
She narrows her eyes, and I lose my nerve. Shame runs hot over my cheeks. I’m ashamed of everything. Of turning back into quiet Haley Constantine, the girl with her book, and not standing up for my dad. For myself. I’m ashamed that I let her comment sail past. I’m ashamed I didn’t fight hard enough to stay with Leo.
“We need to get you settled,” Caroline pronounces. “It will be the best thing for everyone, including your father.”
“What does that mean?”
It could mean anything. She’s kept my dad under house arrest before. She could keep me in our house, too.
“It means you’ll marry Rick on the second of February. The venue has been booked, and invitations will go out in three weeks. Traditionally, the bride’s family covers most of the costs. I know your father isn’t in any position to do so, but you’re a lucky girl. You have a loving extended family.”
Horror is a hard plastic chair in a too-small room. It’s endless beeping from machines that monitor whether your dad is going to live or die. It’s a woman who’s done unthinkable things laying out your entire future in a reasonable tone.
“No.”
Caroline purses her lips like I’m a child who’s refusing to sit down for dinner. “You’ll do as I say.”
“You can’t make me take any vows. You can’t make me say I do.”
Her cool gaze flicks to my father and holds. The threat digs into my gut. Into my heart. “Actually, darling, I think I can.”
“I’ll never marry him.” I want to sound strong. Defiant. Unafraid. But my voice trembles. It gives me away. All my doubt. All my fear. That little shake is enough of an admission.
The corner of Caroline’s mouth turns up. She looks me up and down one more time. “Enjoy your book.” She moves to the door, graceful as ever, then stops. “Oh—I thought I would stop by the billing department on my way out. I believe there was something to reauthorize. A form or two.” She laughs a little. “There’s always so much paperwork when it comes to hospital stays. I suppose I could make it easier on myself if I bowed out and left things to you.”
