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“Funny,” I say dryly and quietly, imprisoning breath.
“Yeah…funny, ‘cause I’m not the kind of guy God answers.” I didn’t realize he was religious, but I don’t know Colt on a deep level.
He meets my defensive glare. I’m waiting for him to tell me to get the hell out of her life. And he says, “I never thought to pray for your happiness. I never thought to pray for Zoey to be good to you—I just figured you’re October Brambilla. You’re the shit, right? What kind of prayers would you ever fucking need?”
I can’t speak. Can’t breathe. Waiting for the punchline. Waiting for the knife.
“You’re a lot like me. The layers.” He pats his bare chest. “And if I’ve learned anything in my twenty-nine years of life, it’s that people like you and me—we bleed internally just as easily. We’re just better at hiding the damage.” He picks at the label on the OJ bottle. “I guess what I’m trying to tell you is that you need to be happy. Not just for Zoey but for you. Stop bleeding yourself out. You want to make this right for Augustine, but she’s gone. I can’t bring her back any more than you can, and trust me, I would try if I knew how.”
I finally take a breath. “If I don’t turn myself in, the town will always call you the madman in the lighthouse.”
“They can call me the pussy-whipped limp-dick shithead in the lighthouse for all I care. I don’t give a shit.”
I let out a laugh, a real laugh.
He smiles. “Did I make any sense?”
“Just enough.” We talk for a while longer about Augustine Anders, the girl that has connected us, the girl we’re both trying to let go. I find myself taking a seat on his uncomfortable chair. I never thought I’d like Colt Durand as much as I do in these minutes. Minutes become hours, and I feel more unburdened—until I check the time.
“Fuck,” I curse. “How is it already eight a.m.? I have to go—” Just as I stand, just as I grab my keys, my phone rings.
Zoey. I’m so sorry, Zoey. I’m about to apologize when I see the Caller ID. Amelia Roberts. Frowning, I tuck the phone to my ear, headed to the door, “Amelia?”
“October,” she whispers so quietly but so quickly that I have to strain my ears to hear. “I followed him like you asked. He went to the Edge of the World, and she’s here.”
I stop dead at the door. “Who’s there?”
“Zoey—he’s chasing Zoey through the woods. He has a knife.” He can’t hurt her. He can’t hurt her. He can’t kill her. I padlock away panic and the visual of Zoey terrified. My fear won’t help her.
“Follow them,” I tell Amelia and I watch Colt stand up with furrowed brows and confusion.
“I already am,” she replies.
“What’s going on, OB?” he asks.
To Amelia, I say, “Drop a pin on your location. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Got it.”
I hang up. “Zoey’s ex is chasing her through the woods. We need to go now.” Colt is already step-for-step with my hurried pace outside. Rain pelts us on our way to my Jeep.
“How do you know where she is?”
“I asked Amelia to track him last night. I gave her his information.”
Colt climbs into the passenger seat, cursing up a storm. It’s unhelpful, but I don’t have time to mention that. “Open the glove compartment,” I instruct while I put the Jeep in drive and peel out.
“For what?” He’s dialing a number.
“My pistol,” I say. His phone rings. “Who—”
He cuts me off before I can finish my question. “We’re not doing this without Brian.”
“Or Parry,” I tell him.
Colt catches my eyes in a brief second. “Or your sister.”
I nod.
We finish this together.
CHAPTER 32
Zoey Durand
What the hell. What the hell! What the hell?! Shock and adrenaline pump viciously through my veins while I’m running for my fucking life through dense, foggy woods. Mud suctions my boots into the earth and slows me down.
Shit! I force my legs upward. I keep moving—I have to keep moving. Breath catches in my throat, and I speed forward into the thick fog. Light rain pelts my cheeks and hair. Too hot from panic, cold barely touches me
“ZOEY!” he yells.
Hairs prick the back of my neck. My toes almost catch a log. “Fuck,” I choke out. Don’t trip. Don’t fall.
I hug a tree trunk to catch my balance, and then I keep moving.
Don’t stop.
When Ashton first emerged through the woods, I was whiplashed.
I never thought the note and pastry could be a set-up because I wanted so badly to believe October had a change of heart. I just saw what I desired most. Not thinking about how I’d told Ashton about October’s notes from high school. The pastries.
I even showed him a note that I kept.
