by Kayla, Mia
Fernando’s eyes wandered everywhere in front of him, so I ignored him because he was obviously ignoring me.
Emery’s smile was blinding, and she had me automatically smiling even though my heart still ached.
A light sheen of gloss coated her lips, and there was a natural blush on her cheeks. Emery never needed much to look immaculate.
“Fernando, this is Christene’s sister, Angie.” Emery motioned toward the greasy guy in a suit, who shook my sister’s hand.
I tipped my head toward him and avoided touching him. Unfortunately, we knew each other already, and fortunately, he knew I didn’t care for him. There was classy and classless, and Fernando embodied the latter.
“Hi, Tene,” he uttered.
I scanned him from head to toe, letting my disapproval show. “Hey.”
This was the self-made man who treated his girlfriend like shit. They’d met years ago, and I knew in my gut something was off about him. Late-night hours and overnight trips to God knew where, doing God knew what, but Emery trusted him, and what could I say to that? But it went above that. Fernando never came across as genuine, only pretending to care about the less fortunate and pretending to want to make a difference. Now that one of his businesses had taken off the ground, his true colors had shone.
I didn’t know what Emery saw in him. I’d already told her how I felt about him, but I wasn’t in their relationship, and it was her life.
“I swear, this is the biggest thing that has come to Rosendell.” Emery’s eyes widened with awe as she scanned the area, taking in the people dressed to perfection—women wearing fitted designer cocktail dresses, men in full-on suits or tuxes.
“Yeah, probably.” I flicked my hair to my back. “Nothing happens here. Well, besides that infamous murder at Wells that put us on the map.”
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Wyatt’s eyes were trained on Emery like a laser light on a target from across the room. Oddly enough, he was in the corner as though he were hiding. What he should be doing was storming here and introducing himself to Emery, front and center. Like that would happen, given how shy he was.
Maybe Fernando could leave early, and I could introduce them. God forbid, Wyatt come over and make a pass at her. I tapped my chin, debating on how I could slyly play matchmaker.
Suddenly and as though in slow motion, the crowd roared, and everyone’s attention turned to the door. I followed everyone’s line of sight to see Jordan stroll in, dapper and handsome, and all the things my heart wanted and couldn’t have. He was in a tux, the bow by his neck perfectly tied. The blond in his hair glimmered in the light, and his eyes, those intense blue eyes, scanned the area.
He waved and bowed with exaggerated Hollywood grace as he passed people he knew, and then he found me. His eyes were trained on me.
Alex caught his attention by the bar, and he laughed at something he’d said, but his eyes never left mine. My stomach clenched with nerves, and I wondered if I could go through with it. Leave him for good.
He said something to Alex and then marched toward me, briefly acknowledging the people trying to get his attention but never stopping until he was right in front of me. He smiled, dimple on his chin and all, gripped my waist, and pulled me into him, kissing me firmly on the lips. A kiss I felt from the roots of my hair to the soles of my feet and everywhere in between. And against my will and my inability to think clearly, I melted into his kiss, this kiss.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for days.” His head rested against mine.
Our eyes were shut, our breathing even, and the love of my life was right here.
But through the darkness, all I saw was him standing over Candice’s grave with a dozen red roses in his hands and sadness and love and longing in his eyes. My hands moved up his chest and slowly pushed him away.
Cameras flashed all around us, but we ignored them all.
“Mmm, I missed you, baby.” He squeezed my hip. “You look beautiful. And that dress …” With a slight shake of his head, he leaned in and said, “It’s too bad I’m going to rip that off with my teeth tonight.” Without shame, his hand dipped lower and squeezed.
“Where’s your mom?” I took a step away from him, needing distance between us. My eyes scoured the place, searching for the matriarch of the Ryder family.
He gave me a questioning look. “She wasn’t feeling well and decided not to come last minute.”
My breath hitched. “You drove all that way to pick her up and not bring her back?”
“Yeah, I really wanted her to come.” He shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal.
Liar, liar, pants on fire!
Suddenly, nausea hit me, and I moved to expand the distance between us.
“Jay!” Susie called out, approaching.
I was glad for her interruption because I had been about to say something I’d regret and cause a scene, which wasn’t what I intended to do. I hugged my middle, trying to keep myself together.
“Get over here. Alex and Jayson and Cynthia want to talk about opening night in a month. What do you think of the place? Do you like it?” Susie beamed at her restaurant transformation.
“Excuse me, I want a drink,” I said, ready to leave them to their business. I needed away from this place, away from him.
Jordan’s head tilted. He raised an eyebrow and gripped my forearm, stilling me. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, my tone dry and tired. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Something is wrong.” He ducked in, all humor erased from his features. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” I closed my eyes, not wanting him to see the emotions running rampant.
“Jay,” Susie urged.
“One second,” he told her. He maneuvered me to the side with a twist of his wrist. “I think I know you well enough to know when you’re lying.”
I took a deep breath through my nose. “Well, I definitely don’t know when you’re lying. I have to actually catch you in a lie.”
He jerked back, and his face twisted. “What are you talking about?”
Everyone’s attention was on us. Their stares ping-ponging back and forth and forth and back again.
Breathe, Tene. Not here. Not the place. Not the time.
“Nothing.” I shook my head and jerked my hand back. “Just go. Deal with your shit.”
He ran a rigid hand through his hair. “What the hell, Tene? What happened to straight-up honesty?”
My eyes fell shut, and I blew out one exaggerated breath. I used extreme focus to keep myself calm and steady, concentrating on my breathing, on the snugness of my dress, on the people around me. Anywhere but the man I wanted to call out and confront in this instant.
“Tene.” He tilted his head, examining me, his expression pinched.
My boiling blood coursed through my veins. “Jordan,” I sassed.
“How are we going to make this work when you can’t tell me what’s bothering you?” he whisper-yelled.
We’re not.
He obviously didn’t care that we were causing a scene, so why should I?
My nails bit into my palms. “Honesty? You want honesty? How about you lying to me about going home to pick up your mom?”
“What?” He blinked and threw up his hands. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
There goes not causing a scene.
“Surprise, she isn’t here.”
His jaw tightened. “She’s sick.”
“You’re lying to yourself and to me.” I shoved my finger into his chest, pushing him back an inch. “Tell me you didn’t drive all the way home to visit Candice.”
His mouth fell open, and he jerked his head back.
My chin trembled because his reaction was so open, so honest. He had gone home specifically to see her.
“Deny it,” I challenged him.
He blinked, and it took him a few seconds to speak. “Tene, let me explain.”
I swiped at my now imperfect face, una
ble to hold the tears in. “Answer me. The truth this time. Tell me you didn’t go back home to see her.” My whole body went rigid, and he went lax. “Tell me, did you go home specifically to see Candice?”
He dropped his head, his shoulders hunched, and with a nod of his head, I had my answer.
“You want the truth?” My body shook. “We’re done.” My hand flew to my lips, but still, a silent sob escaped. “Because I won’t settle for less.”
“No. Don’t go.” He gripped my wrist, his eyes feverish and bright. “Listen, let me explain. Yes, I went to see her, but—”
“No buts! Stop lying to me. Stop pretending you’re over her because you obviously aren’t.” Heat flushed my body.
I had everyone’s attention. Every single cast member. And now, my family, who had just walked in. My mother included. But I didn’t care anymore. Jordan had wanted this to happen now, so here we were.
I pounded a fist against my thigh. “I saw you at her grave, with a dozen roses …” My voice trailed off, my heart tightening.
He shook his head, confused. “How?” Frustration was evident in his tone.
“Someone sent me pictures.”
He lifted a hand and then leaned into me. “Who?”
I shook my head over it all. “It doesn’t matter. I saw you. Everything was written on your face. A thousand emotions I wished were meant for me.” My hands fell to my chest, and a whimper escaped me.
He stiffened. “Who sent you the pictures?”
“Are you not listening to me? It doesn’t matter! You lied. You’re not over her. Now, let me go.” I stormed past him and past Angie, who called out my name, to the open outdoors, past my car and down the street, into an alley. I wouldn’t be able to get into my car and out of this place fast enough, given the traffic jam. And knowing my apartment would be the first place he’d go, I wanted to be anywhere but there.
Heavy tears flowed down my face, like an endless stream. The warm night air couldn’t dim the chill in me. I slid down to the ground, feeling the bricks scrape my bare back. The hollowness in my chest was vast, wide, endless.
Why did I let my guard down? I should’ve known better. I should’ve listened to my gut.
I swiped at my cheeks, hating the warm tears, hating that I showed emotion, hating that I had let my vulnerability shine in front of my family, in front of the world, in front of Jordan.
It hurt. I rubbed at my chest with the heel of my palm, needing the pain to dim, but I knew with experience, nothing would dim the pain but time.
I’d been here before. Long ago, but this hurt went deeper. Because I had thought … for a brief moment, I’d thought he was it. We were it. Forever.
My phone vibrated in my purse, and I reached in and went to silence it when a text appeared. It was from the same number that had sent me the pictures.
Now, you know the truth. Now, you know that he never loved you.
Goose bumps prickled my back, creeping up my neck. She was here. At the cast party.
“Hello, Christene.”
I peered up from my phone.
And gasped.
It was Susie.
Pointing a gun directly at my chest.
Chapter 31
“Aren’t you going to say hi?” Her cheery demeanor was long gone. She was a different person altogether. No smile on her face. No heightened intonation in her voice.
I stayed utterly silent and pressed my elbows into my sides, cowering into myself.
There was no blankness in her stare, where there had been in Jordie’s. Her gaze was laser-focused, sharp, calculating, and that frightened me that much more.
The gun was directed toward my chest.
“Don’t move. I have good aim. I should know. Going to the gun range is my weekend hobby.” Her laugh was without humor, short and cunning.
I stood and froze, my feet rooted to the ground. I could run in heels, but there was no way I could outrun a bullet.
“Turn around.” Her voice was firm, strong.
I breathed slowly, and when I didn’t move, she shoved the gun into my chest.
“I said, turn around.”
“You’re going to shoot me in the back.” It was a statement, not a question.
And my whole life—happiness and regrets—flashed before me. I wasn’t ready to go. Not before telling the people I cared about that I loved them.
“You think I’m going to let you die that easily?” She shoved my shoulder, forcing me to turn, and pushed the gun into my back. “Now, walk.” She had one forceful hand on my shoulder, the other on the gun.
I bit the inside of my cheek, telling myself to focus and take note of my surroundings. We took a sharp right into an alleyway. Brick walls of the building caged us in. My body trembled with fear, but if she took me to a second location, I was as good as dead.
I debated taking her. Taking her down to the ground. My insides were built with steel. At least, I’d thought so until the cold barrel of the gun was at my back, and my whole body trembled with fear.
She walked me to her car, down the dark alley. She had me positioned by her, smiling like the psycho, fake, cheery person she was. I would not go down without a fight, and I formulated a plan.
As soon as she opened her car door and before she shoved me in, I’d grab the gun and kick her with my four-inch stilettos. I was waiting, counting the steps to the car, fear choking me with every second that passed, but resolve settling in my gut to at least try to obtain the upper hand.
Only a few more steps and I would turn, grab the gun, and use the bottom half of my body to take her down while I gained control of her weapon.
But I didn’t get a chance to because the last thing I remembered was feeling the butt of her gun against my skull, the searing pain that spread down my neck, and the depthless hole of blackness that took me under.
* * *
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The rough edges of something pushing at my side brought me back to consciousness. She was kicking me with the point of her high-heeled shoe.
Blood trickled down my cheek to my mouth. The metallic taste of blood against my lips made me gag. If I had to guess the source of my wound, it was from the blunt jab of her gun against my head.
Pain radiated through my scalp to the back of my neck and down my spine. For a moment, I thought I might be paralyzed, but I wiggled my toes and fingers to confirm that wasn’t the case.
My hands and feet were duct-taped together. The rough edges cut through my skin, leaving my hands purple and my arms numb, but my mind was awake, alive. The adrenaline coursed through my body now that I was conscious.
It took me two seconds to realize where we were. We were in the kitchen at the Wells property. The cold linoleum floor chilled my bare back, my naked legs. The light bounced off of the hood over the stovetop, and the sound of droplets from the faucet pinged against the stainless-steel sink.
“So, Sleeping Bimbo is awake?”
Her smile was evil personified, and her whole cheery demeanor that I was used to was gone. She had transformed. I could see it in her eyes, the depthless soullessness, and the fiery red in her hair reminded me of hell.
“I hear the owner butchered her husband, cut him up into pieces, limb by limb, finger by finger.” She walked slowly around me, like a lioness ready to pounce on her prey. Her eyes were stone-cold hard, and the gun in her hand waved back and forth as she spoke. “Maybe that’s what I’ll do after I empty this gun into your pretty little head.”
Anxiety tore through me as I took in my surroundings. The phone was against the wall, too far for me to reach, especially bound up. The Exit sign burned a bright red, but there was no way I could escape, tied up on the floor.
Susie rubbed the edge of the gun against her shirt and continued to pace the linoleum floor. She stroked the underbelly of the gun against her cheek, rubbing against it as a cat would do against its owner’s leg. I shivered and not because I was cold.
“I spent hours upon hours mak
ing sure that party was perfect. You think he noticed?” She shook her head and sneered, “You think he could say thank you for once?” A sinister laugh escaped her lips, and her hand bounced at her side, the gun now turned toward my direction. “No, especially not when you’re in the room. I’m sure he notices now. Now that you’re gone.”
She bent down right beside me and tapped the gun at my temple, taunting me. I flinched, gulping down breaths to keep quiet. Every fiber of my being wanted to scream and kick and fight, but I knew it would be useless.
There was no one here.
The cold barrel of the gun pressed deep into my temple, and she smiled.
This is it. The end.
In that moment, the people I loved the most flashed in my eyes. It took one second for all my regrets to push through. I found myself begging for my mother’s forgiveness. For not loving her as best as I could and not forgiving her for the things that she’d done to hurt me. For our constant fighting and our back-and-forth disagreements. Because none of that mattered anymore. Not when I was on the brink of death. I’d die today without telling her that I loved her and that I was sorry that our relationship had not been better.
Tears sprang from the corners of my eyes. Not from fear, but from heavy-hearted regret. I wasn’t scared of dying. Everyone was going to die eventually. But I hadn’t expected my time to come so soon. I was scared of leaving this world without telling the people that mattered most that I loved them.
“You have nothing to say to me?” Her nostrils flared, her eyes growing wild. “Nothing at all?” She nudged the gun at my head again, more forceful this time. “At least this will be quick, and I won’t be cutting you up in the back.”
“Why would you do this?” My tone turned to panic, heightening with hysteria. “Why would you risk your job, your freedom for this? What do you want?”
