Page 98 of Total Exposure

I wait a long time. Hours and hours. And in that time my mind goes wild with the things that have been happening here. Both under this roof and at the coffee house.

The suspicions form in my head, the clues leading me down a path. Several times I make up my mind and several times I change it.

But no matter how hard I try, the idea lingers.

Ix isn’t who I think he is.

Chapter Thirty-Eight - Ixion

By the time I leave Chella’s tea house it’s dark. I didn’t mean to stay so long. Didn’t even mean to go. Her text last night was vague, but it was enough to plant ideas in my head. Enough to make me question everything.

I didn’t mean to say so much to her. We’re not exactly friends and I barely know her, but she knows enough. More than most. And she had a bit of information she wanted to share with me. Just in case I wasn’t aware.

I was not aware.

Her information ripped my world apart in too many ways to describe, so I don’t bother summing it up in my head.

It’s just…sad. Sad that people can be so manipulative. So self-centered. So fucking filled with lies that they can’t even tell the difference between honesty and deceit.

I’m careful with Jordan’s Mercedes as I pull into the carriage house, even though I want to crash this motherfucker into the side of the house. Even more cautious as I peer over the gate to the garden, afraid Evangeline might be outside.

But she isn’t.

Even after what Chella told me today, I’m not mad at Evangeline. That girl doesn’t have a dishonest bone in her body. She had nothing to do with Jordan’s stupid fucking game. She’s not even a player. Just a piece to be moved around the chessboard.

Like me.

Fuck that, I’m not a piece, I’m a player.

In fact, this is my fuckin’ game.

Isn’t it?

Am I delusional? Crazy, like I thought Evangeline to be?

She’s not. But neither am I. Especially after what Chella told me today.

Fuckin’ Jordan. Now I remember why I hate him. Why I left and never looked back. Why I never wanted to come here in the first place.

I was suspicious, but not suspicious enough, apparently.

I walk down the path that leads to the back steps, take them two at a time until I’m at the bottom, and key in the code to get inside.

A huge feeling of relief washes over me as I close myself up inside. And for a second, I wonder if that’s how Evangeline felt all those years she locked herself up inside? Did she feel that relief when she came home?

If so, I can relate. I want nothing more than to block out the world right now. Just be alone in my aloneness.

Her body, lying prone on the bed up in the master bedroom, makes me look at the monitor. But the blindfold she’s wearing makes me deflate with anguish.

She’s waiting for me.

I can’t do it tonight, Evangeline. I just can’t. There’s too much bullshit rattling around in my head. And if I go to you, you’ll know. You’ll feel it. I’ll ruin all the good I’ve done and I can’t. I just can’t fuckin’ do it.

But of course I can’t tell her that. I can’t tell her anything. I could do the little intercom crackle, but that would invite more discussion on the matter. It would open it up and I want to keep everything closed right now.

I can’t.

So I just sit in the chair and watch, like I’m supposed to, and pick up the notebook to finish the story.