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“Hey, Mom? I have one last question,” I rush out, the words bursting out of me. Something has been bothering me about this case, and the pressing need to ask is unbearable.
She sighs but stays on the line, silently urging me on.
“Did you happen to send me a black envelope full of pictures and a note?”
She’s silent, and my heart thumps in my chest. “Mom?” I prompt.
She clears her throat. “I guess your Nana and I are more alike than you thought.”
My eyes widen as realization dawns, hitting me directly in the chest. She did send me the envelope. Which means she knew all along about Gigi’s murder and Nana’s role in it.
Un-fucking-believable.
“You kept her secret,” I whisper.
“I have to go now, Addie. I have a house showing in five minutes.”
“Okay,” I murmur, but the line has already gone dead.
There’s no way of knowing when exactly Mom found out about Nana covering up the murder—I doubt she’ll ever tell me—but I imagine it was sometime before I was born, considering I have no memories of those two ever getting along.
Mom’s bitterness and dislike for Nana suddenly make more sense.
Nana covered up her mother’s murder, and in return, her daughter covered up her involvement.
My brain gets clogged with all that information, and the utter shock that my mother also played a hand in covering up Gigi’s murder. It’s too much.
I turn and stare out at the window as my thoughts turn to Zade. Really, they never left. He's been sitting in the back of my brain all day, weighing down on my shoulders.
Is he safe? Alive?
When did I start worrying about his safety?
I need my head checked. But I will never make the initiative to do so. In a roundabout way, I'm starting to accept my new reality.
I'm falling in love with my stalker. The shadow that haunts me in the night. The man that hunts me down and completely wrecks my entire world.
And not only do I have to come to terms with that, but the fact that my life will now be consumed with worry. He's dangerous, but the situations he puts himself in are just as terrifying. One day, he could go out and never come back home.
How do I deal with that?
Standing, I make my way into the kitchen to make myself a mixed drink. I flip on the light but pause immediately.
Resting on the counter is a red rose, with the thorns clipped. For the life of me, I can't figure out why tears spring to my eyes. Maybe because now that I care about the stupid asshole, I don't know if this is the last time I'll get a rose or not.
Sniffing, I walk over to the rose and pick it up, twirling the stem in my fingers.
"Goddammit, Zade," I mutter aloud. "I'll never forgive you if you die."
A loud buzzing from my phone wakes me out of a dead sleep. Drool leaks down my cheek, and I absently swipe at it with one hand while I grab my phone with the other.
The bright light draws out an immediate headache as I squint at the screen. It’s only eleven o’clock at night. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour.
My phone buzzes again, alerting me to a text message. Opening the app, I see the Daya has texted me several times.
DAYA: Are you awake?
DAYA: I’m really upset right now and could use a friend.
