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I hadn’t thought thatfeeling worsewas possible. Nathan had controlled what I wore, criticized my cooking, made me feel worthless; and then, after I’d broken up with him, trespassed in my house while I was in the bathroom. I’d spent at least two years feeling like I didn’t deserve a relationship at all, then I’d spent the past few weeks feeling like he wanted to hurt me, and now I was learning that he wanted tokill me?
“Maybe he was exaggerating,” I said as I rubbed my temples. “Maybe he was having a bad day, and felt like he needed to take it out on me.”
Cora placed her hand on my knee and shook her head.
“I don’t think so, Em. He put effort into this. He took the photos at three different times and places, and broke into the house so he could arrange them on the bed. He was sending a message.”
I leaned back against the cushions. Why hadn’t Adrian said something? I could understand if everything was too hectic in the moment and he’d told me later, but he’d kept this a secret for two weeks… even though we’d spent time together alone.
It was too much. With all the emotions I’d already been carrying around, adding another one to the pile felt impossible.
I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
Cora’s expression became sympathetic, and she moved closer to rake her fingers through my hair.
“Why don’t we go to a restaurant or something?”
“What if he’s out there?” I asked.
“I’ll go first,” Cora said. “He’s looking for you, not me. If the coast is clear, I’ll give you a signal. And instead of staying local, we’ll go for a drive. Somewhere he’ll never find us.”
23
EMMA
After spending weeks inside the apartment, it feltamazingto be on the road again.
When I was with Nathan, he’d always done the driving and I hadn’t realized how much I missed it. I was out of practice, so there were a few scary moments while I got the hang of the clutch, but once we were on the highway, I wound the windows down all the way and savored the feeling of wind in my hair.
Cora took control of the music and I sang along with every song she played.
“How long has it been since we’ve done something like this?” I asked.
“High school, at least,” Cora said. She’d bought a packet of chips at our last gas stop and gave me one before she popped one in her own mouth. “Remember when I first had my licence, we jammed eight of us in my car, and drove wherever we wanted for the sake of it?”
I smiled. It was one of my favorite memories — Cora was the oldest person in my friend group, so she got her drivers licence first. I hadn’t realized it then, but it was one of the most wonderful times of my life — my mom was still alive, I had friends, and Cora was willing to drive us anywhere we wanted as long as we worshipped her for the simple fact that she had a car.
“Yep,” I said, remembering that we’d driven up the highway and then, not finding any places of interest, turned around and came back again. None of us cared that we didn’t have anywhere to go — all that mattered was thepotentialfor freedom. We stopped at an ice-cream shop, the only place where Cora didn’t have to do a reverse park, and savored our frozen treats even though it was winter.
But now, we were adults, and we weren’t driving aimlessly for the fun of it. Cora had found a restaurant near the beach that had good reviews, and even after not driving for weeks, the magic of simply being in a car had worn off. Now, I was more interested inrealfreedom.
Even though I knew there was no way Nathan could be following us, I kept glancing in the mirrors. I couldn’t help it — there were so many cars traveling in the same direction, swerving between the three lanes, that I kept expecting his faded blue paintwork to appear. The sky was darkening, making the other cars harder to see, and Cora had to remind me to watch the road twice.
But he wasn’t there, of course — it was just the normal Thursday traffic.
“Take this exit,” Cora said, pointing at a green sign and a stretch of asphalt that curved down a hill.
I did as she said, and we followed the next street through suburban housing, dense bushland, then more housing as we drove closer to the ocean.
“The restaurant’s around here somewhere,” Cora said, as she frowned at her phone.
She navigated me through increasingly narrow streets until we reached the road that curved along the beach. There was no parking outside the restaurant, so I kept driving until I found a spot on a side street, and when I stepped out of the car, everything felt magical: the cool wind on my face, the salt in the air, seagulls squawking somewhere in the distance. It was a short walk back to the restaurant, where a blonde waitress greeted us in the outdoor dining area.
“Table for two?” she asked, and when I nodded, she led us through the tables out the front. I glanced nervously at the street — anyone driving past would have a full view of us eating.
“Could we get something inside?” I asked. “Something less visible from the street?”
The waitress gave a curt nod.
