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I don’t know what Griffin is thinking. It seems we have more in common than I imagined. Neither of us is any good at talking about feelings—not a surprise. The tension in the apartment is thick enough to cut with a knife, but neither of us has come out and addressed it directly. We’d rather take turns pacing in frustration, wrestling with the sense of powerlessness a man can only feel when a woman he cares for is in pain and has built thick walls around herself.
It comes as a relief when Teagan steps off the elevator, holding a wide cardboard box in one hand. Instantly, her energy seems to brighten the place and make the air easier to breathe. “I brought some bear claws,” she calls out cheerfully. A little too cheerfully, with an edge of desperation in her voice.
When there’s no answer from Nat, still in her room, Teagan gives us a worried look. “I figured since they’re her favorite…” she whispers, wincing.
“It was a good thought.” I hold up a finger, signaling for her to wait before going to Natalie’s bedroom door and knocking briskly. “Teagan brought you some bear claws. You better hurry if you want to get any.” It’s absurd, pretending to be cheerful at a time like this. When the girl still hasn’t showered since she got home yesterday. When she won’t let any of us touch her, even to help cleanse the wounds to her arms. At least she took care of that. She’s present enough in her own mind to handle the necessities.
Otherwise? She’s a ghost in her own home. I’ll never forget her flat, toneless delivery of the outcome of her trip. How she witnessed Beverly’s murder. This time, there’s no pretending. No disappearing for years, letting her children believe she’s dead. A bullet to the brain generally gets the job done. If only Natalie hadn’t witnessed it. If only she didn’t blame herself.
The fact she opens the door is a minor victory. This is not the Natalie I thought I knew. Polished, capable, in control of herself and any situation she’s up against. The dark circles under her red eyes tell a story of their own. The way she walks with her shoulders hunched, half-bent like she’s protecting herself somehow tells another. I almost wish there was hatred in her gaze when her eyes meet mine, but I see… nothing. Emptiness.
“Teagan’s waiting for you,” I offer. She nods, then heads straight for the living room. All I can do is follow in her footsteps, asking myself what the hell we’re supposed to do for her. I suppose there’s nothing anyone can do but be here for her. She needs to pull herself out of this.
Teagan’s smile is brilliant, warm. “There you are. You’re going to have to help me with these.” She extends her arms, offering the box. “Help yourself. Otherwise, I’m going to have to eat all of them, and I won’t be able to fit into my jeans if I do.”
Natalie only eyes the box, almost like she’s weighing her choices. Finally, she sighs. “Thanks for going to the trouble, but I don’t think I’ll have any. Help yourself, though,” she adds, addressing the room at large. She eases herself into an armchair, drawing her feet up until her knees practically touch her chin.
“Are you sure?” I’m sorry to see Teagan’s face fall, knowing how hopeful she was. “How about I leave them here, anyway? In case you change your mind.”
“Go ahead,” Natalie murmurs, her voice flat and devoid of interest. It’s like all of the color has drained out of her, leaving a black and white reproduction of what used to be so vibrant and intense. Colorful. Captivating. Only now do I understand everything that drew me to her to begin with. I miss it. She’ll come back, she has to. I’ll be right here by her side when she does.
Teagan leaves the box on the kitchen counter, looking like a guilty kid. Like she regrets coming down. If she didn’t already, she certainly does once Natalie asks, “How’s Mason?”
Teagan winces like she’s in pain, her throat working before she says, “He needs time.”
“Of course he does.” Looking at the floor, Natalie smirks like she was expecting that. Frankly, I’m still pissed at her for taking a tremendous risk, both for herself and for those who would inevitably come after her, yet it’s obvious why she did it. She wanted to try once more to turn Beverly around. She failed. It’s bad enough she feels responsible for Beverly’s death without her brother freezing her out.
At the same time, I see his side. How can any of us trust her when she’s so damn determined to go behind our backs and risk us all in the process? Beverly was her family, but so is Mason. Does betraying one by trying to save the other balance out in the end? I could lose my mind trying to make sense of it.
