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Where did you go?
Are you with him?
I can’t stand the thought of another man touching what’s mine.
Chilled, I screenshot everything and then block the number. One more piece to add to the growing evidence pile, not that the cops will do much about creepy texts.
Ben must be watching the apartment. But who is this “him” he’s referring to? He can’t know I drove here with Oliver, since Oliver has never been to Mindy’s apartment. Maybe he’s guessing, trying to get a reaction. I’ll have to text Mindy in the morning and tell her to be extra cautious.
Frustration boils in my blood, simmering in my veins. I wish Ben would just disappear, leave me alone, but I doubt he will. He can’t handle that I left him. He wants to have the last word to show he’s the one in charge. Maybe I should listen to Oliver and hire a security guard, but… I can’t let Ben control my life forever.
Now I’ll never fall back asleep. I shake my pillow, punch it a couple times, and flop over onto my side. The house is still and quiet. Maybe I should get up. Go downstairs, grab some water or tea.
Or I could walk right out the side door and make my way down to Oliver’s cabin. It’s not far. I could be there in less than five minutes. My skin prickles. He’s probably awake.
He never responded to my proposition. I told him to think about it, but we haven’t been alone since last night. We could be alone now, though.
What if he says no? My stomach drops.
What if he says yes? The thought is almost as frightening.
I thought I wanted a rebound, but I don’t think Oliver is someone I could bounce away from. He’s already burrowing his sneaky way into my heart. It’s too much, too soon. I fell for Ben quickly too. I was consumed by him, and then he chewed me up and spit me out. Maybe Finley and Mindy are right. I give too much, and then I lose myself in the process.
I get up and grab my robe. I’ll go downstairs. Have some water. Then I’ll try to sleep.
The hallway is faintly illuminated. I stop next to the glowing night-light and sink down on my heels, brushing a finger over Minnie Mouse’s fading ear. It was Aria’s. When she was five, she insisted on moving it from her room to the hallway because of Jake. He always had to pee in the night, and he was scared of the dark. It probably hasn’t moved since.
I stand up, take a step, and almost scream at a dark figure looming in the open doorway to Dad’s room. “Jake. What are you doing?”
The door being open is shocking in and of itself. We like to keep the door shut on the past, both literally and figuratively. He rests against the frame. His arms are crossed while he gazes into the room.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I was”—he gestures to the empty room—“thinking.”
I stop next to him and face the room. Moonlight streams in through the double windows, illuminating the neatly made bed, a paperback resting on the nightstand, and the old green lamp on the dresser. The digital alarm clock glows with pale-green numbers, 12:27. It feels as if Dad could walk through the door any minute, lie down, and go to sleep. Like we’re just waiting for him.
I glance at Aria’s bedroom door obscured by the shroud of darkness and shut tight. It’s probably much the same way. Like a shrine. A tomb. When will we move on? Can we?
Guilt grips me in a choke hold. I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t here when Dad died. Jake and Finley bore the brunt of everything—the aftermath when we lost Aria, Dad’s illness and passing. The whole thing is a big blur for me. Unfairly so.
Jake must be thinking along the same lines. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and soft. “When he was sick, it was hard, but…” He lifts his gaze to the ceiling. “It kept me from thinking too much, from feeling too much. There was always something to do. I had to take care of him. He needed me. I spent time with him and worried about him, and I was okay because then I wouldn’t think about—”
Aria. He never says her name. He doesn’t have to.
Dad’s illness was all Jake had space for, and when he died, there was nothing to help him forget. Nothing but substances that made things fuzzy and made the pain bearable, at least for a while. I didn’t know how bad it had gotten until he crashed the truck into a tree, driving home early one morning after a night of partying with a friend.
Finley was a mess. Everyone came home. Mindy drove into town from the city. Taylor cancelled all her plans and drove up to be with them. I merely mentioned the possibility of going home to be with my family, and Ben took my purse and my cell phone and locked me in the bathroom.
I swallow back the lump building in my throat. I don’t want to relive that time.
Jake rubs a hand over his head, driving the dark strands into disarray. “We don’t use these rooms. We don’t talk about our pain. We pretend things are fine when they’re not. He wouldn’t have wanted this.”
“You can always talk to me.” I reach out and touch his arm with careful fingers. “I know I wasn’t here before, but I’m here now. I promise I’ll always be here.”
He’s probably mad. He should be mad at me. I wasn’t here when he needed me most. He should resent me. He and Finley both.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jake searches my face, his eyes dark and anguished.
Confusion clouds my mind. “What do you mean?”
