Page 44 of Until You


Font Size:  

“Then it’s done.”

He takes a step away and starts to chop the chilis and garlic while I try my hardest to still my racing heart. He’s truly certain that spending the night with me wouldn’t affect him in any way, isn’t he?

I push down the unwarranted resentment I feel. I’m being ungrateful, and I can barely make sense of my feelings. Gray has always treated me like family, and I’ve never had an issue with that. I shouldn’t want anything else from him.

“So I noticed you went out for lunch with Riley?”

I look up at him, startled.

“The two of you walked into the office together, looking awfully chummy.”

“Chummy?” I repeat. That’s not quite how I’d put it. It was awkward at best. I’m still embarrassed about the way I acted during lunch. I should’ve hidden my concerns and suspicions better. For all I know, he was just trying to be friendly.

“He’s a nice guy. Clever, too.”

“He thinks I watch tentacle porn,” I blurt out.

Gray freezes, spatula in hand. “He what?”

I laugh and try my best to explain the story, expecting Gray to find it funny. Instead, his expression becomes entirely unreadable.

“Oh, so you two were flirting, huh?” he says, his tone…off. “That’s nice.”

I blink, confused. “What? No. Not at all. I think he was just joking because he can’t seem to find much dirt on me.”

Gray turns the stove off and empties the contents of the pan onto a plate without much care. He stares at the plate and then pushes it toward me.

“I’m not hungry,” he says. “You have this.”

He turns and walks away, leaving me sitting on top of the counter, confused as to what just happened.

I eat my eggs in silence, replaying our conversation in my mind, wondering what I might have said to annoy him. I’m worried that he thinks I’m not taking my job seriously. I don’t want him to think I’m going around flirting or anything like that.

I’m still thinking about it when I get into bed later that night. Gray disappeared after making me eggs, and I’m not sure what to think of it. He seemed angry, or maybe disappointed is a better way to explain the look in his eyes.

I shake my head and reach for my phone, trying my hardest to stop thinking about him. I absentmindedly scroll through the notifications on the Nemesis Platform, freezing when I realize what I’m reading.

It’s the historical information I requested on Peter Simmons. I scroll through it, my heart squeezing painfully.

He was laid off a few months before the robbery, and two weeks before that fatal day, his house was repossessed. I scroll through all the transactions, the mounting debt, the eventual homelessness. The payments he kept up with the longest were the ones related to his daughter. School fees, piano lessons, tutors.

I read through all the data, slowly connecting the dots. His daughter attended the same school as me. Is that why we were the target?

I still remember his eyes when he saw me standing in the living room. He looked as scared as I was, and at the time I couldn’t understand why he had stacks of my clothes in his hands. But it’s starting to make sense now. His daughter is the same age as me. Is that why he was robbing us? Did he need something for her?

I inhale shakily as I read through the countless messages he’s tried to send her; all of them ignored. I’ve spent years hating this man for taking my parents from me, but it’s starting to look like Noah and I aren’t the only ones whose lives were destroyed.

Peter’s regret is in everything he does. It’s in the anti-gun violence charity donations, the unanswered messages to his daughter, the mundane notes his parole officer is taking.

He’s out of jail, but he continues to pay for his crimes. Every unanswered message and every donation he makes will always remind him of what he took from me.

I’ve been receiving notifications for months now, and never once has he done anything to indicate he might turn to crime again. If anything, his actions betray his regret.

A tear rolls down my cheek and my hands tremble as I will myself to do the right thing.

That has to be enough. It has to be. I can’t lose sight of who I am. I can’t continue to abuse my own platform. He’s paid his dues, and I… I’ll need to accept that.

I have to let this go. I have to finally give my heart a chance to heal. I hesitate and inhale deeply, my finger hovering over the removal button.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com