Chapter 14
Roaring Silence
There was a contrary existence to sadness. How could something so hollow weigh so much? Evelyn lay supine on the bed, face fused to the pillow with the salt of dried tears, unsure of the time and confused about the day of the week. Nothing had ever felt so horrible.
She stared at the backs of her eyelids so long she began to question if darkness was truly black or a blinding white. Misery cloaked her like a lead blanket, yet she was so empty she wondered how she didn’t float away. Pain stabbed her heart, but oddly she was numb, like a person who crashes to the ground so fast they die on impact.
Nothing made sense.
He did this to her, but why? Because she wouldn’t marry him? It couldn’t be that simple, yet there seemed to be no other explanation.
He wanted this. He wanted them to end.
He hadn’t come to her after she stormed off last night. Not once did he knock on the locked door or try to take back his ridiculous edict. Every torturous second was another crack in her broken trust.
His prolonged avoidance only made his stubbornness more annoying. Screw him.
She lay awake all night, waiting for this nightmare to end, but it never did. Just before she dozed off, as dawn crept over the horizon, she thought nothing could possibly be worse than the feeling inside her. She was wrong. She slept only a short time, but upon waking she learned of a new agony.
As her mind pulled out of the cobwebs of sleep, she realized the horrible dream was reality and that was worse than knowing it the night before. It was sharper, fresher, with a layer of disappointment added to the pain that sleep hadn’t mitigated. Would it be like this every morning from here on? A repeat of last night’s episode? She couldn’t bear the thought.
Sleep became a waking matter she simply wandered through in some subconscious state. She never truly rested. The unsettled turmoil of her mind forbade it.
Moments of quiet were interrupted by sudden intrusions of thoughts so unwelcome she would roll to her side and moan. No cry was strong enough to expel her agony.
Sometime that morning she admitted to herself how utterly stupid she had been. Just twenty-four hours ago she was so sure of herself, imperiously proud of how far she’d come.
Some achievement. She didn’t know what to do.
Her mother would be useless. And so help her God, if Lucian threw Pearl back on the streets, she would never forgive him. Never.
Perhaps Parker could help her. Perhaps Patrice, she thought, but how pathetic to go traipsing through Patras as the woman who was tossed away. Maybe it was just another stupid move on her part, thinking she still had some pride left to lose.
Fuck him and his apartment. She didn’t need anything from him. She could make it work. She should have taken that damn ring and pawned it.
That quickly her mind switched gears, shutting off her anger and reminding her of how hurt she was. The whiplash of those unannounced emotions sneaking in and taking over was enough to make her vomit. She turned her face back to the pillow and began to sob.
What would she do? She had no one. Lucian was also her dearest friend and he was abandoning her. The actuality of her circumstances hurt more than the reality. Betrayal was a sharp object lodged in her heart.
Those words he was so desperate to hear her say were there, beating around in her tired mind, ready to come out now, but she forbade it. Now they were unwelcome for a whole new reason. She would never admit how much she loved him, because he had done exactly what she knew he would do. He pushed her away.
She must have faded into some sort of dazed sleep. Her eyes were open as though she had never shut them, yet she lost herself for some time. Things were calming down. Survival instincts were stepping in and quietly trapping all the irrational thoughts of desperation tearing through her insides like butterflies in a net.
Her unaccompanied existence now appeared unending, depressing, a huge, heaving giant breathing over her. She should just give up already. She was so tired of fighting. No one would miss her if she disappeared. But she was coming back to reality enough to know that wasn’t the answer.
She would fight, because that’s what she’d been doing since the day she was born, fighting to live, fighting to survive, fighting for the love no one ever gave her without conditions. She was a scrapper. She was not some polished woman named Evelyn. She was Scout. She had survived much worse than this. All she needed to do was get up and move.
So why did that seem so terrifyingly daunting?
***
When dusk arrived she showered and took time to really wash herself. She went through her clothing and belongings and selected only sensible items like jeans, sneakers, thermals, and sweats. She cleaned up by sweeping all her useless cosmetics into the trash can.
Rather than wasting time on frivolous things that only disguised her as someone else, she pulled her hair back in a long ponytail and removed all her jewelry except the bracelet she made. She wanted nothing from him, but knew she couldn’t be stupid and cut off her nose to spite her face.
When she was ready, she fought back her sadness. Staring fiercely at her pathetic reflection, she hissed, “You will not cry. You’re stronger than that. Get to Folsom and get the fuck out of here. You never have to see him again.”
With a deep, shaky breath she lifted her bag and unlocked the bedroom door. The house was quiet. She slowly took the stairs and noticed a few items by the door, Lucian’s briefcase, his coat, some files. He wouldn’t have been able to pack while she was in the room with the door locked.
She placed her things near the door, but away from his pile. Turning, she jumped when she spotted him watching her from the other end of the foyer. They stared at each other for a minute. He looked terrible. There was no question in her mind he hadn’t slept.
“Are you ready? I’ll get the rest of your bags.”
“This is all I’m taking,” she said, proud that her voice didn’t waver.
“I can have your other things sent to the apartment—”
“I’m not going to your apartment.”
“Evelyn—”
“Don’t call me that.”
His lips pressed together. Exhaustion seemed to radiate from his pores. “This can all change if you just agree—”
“You’re not the person I thought you were. I will never agree to be anything to you ever again. I’d like to go ho—return to the city. Now.”
He nodded and began shutting off the lights. She waited by the door as he went upstairs to retrieve the last of his things, several times blinking back tears. There was no reason for this that she could think of. No point in taking a month apart—on a break—only to get back together. This month apart would tear them apart. There would be no mending things.
She hated him for doing this. She hated him for making her love him. She hated knowing this was the last time she would ever see the estate again, ever know this kind of peace again.
Her thoughts climbed over memories, committing them to some shadowed corner of her mind she could examine later, when she was stronger. She wanted to remember certain moments of their time together, never wanted to forget the scent of fresh lilacs or the feel of lazing in his arms on a rainy afternoon.
It was never about the money or the comfort. It was about sanctuary. It was about the peace that came with surrendering her trust to a man and letting him guard her heart for a change. She never imagined something could feel so wonderful. However, she never knew such extreme misery as having that love and trust trampled on by the one person she believed incapable of such cruelty. It was complete betrayal and she needed to stop romanticizing things and get real.
He returned and fished out his keys. “Here,” he said, holding out a long envelope.
“What’s this? Severance?” She scoffed. “Keep your money, Lucian. It was never about your wealth. It was never about getting something more from you. It was just you. I just wanted you, but apparently I wasn’t enough in return.”
“Ev—” She cut him off with a glare. He said the name she had gone by all her life as though it left a bitter taste on his tongue. “Scout, I know you hate me right now, but I swear on my life I will make it up to you. Go to the apartment just until you get on your feet. You can even pay me back for the rent if it makes you feel better.”
He was so full of crap. Lucian would never let her pay him for something like that. However, she was grateful he pushed the offer. As much as she wanted to tell him to go fuck himself and prove she didn’t need him, she was smart enough to know she did. At least for a little while.
“This is just the paperwork for the apartment, the key, and some other things.”
She raised an eyebrow.
He sighed. “You need money, Ev—Scout. Take it. Please.” She’d asked him to call her Scout, but hearing that name cross his lips only made their entire affair seem more tawdry and concluded.
“One last chance, Lucian. Tell me why you’re doing this.”
“I . . .” He looked away, and she knew there would be no explanation beyond the same bullshit he had fed her last night.
Her teeth ground together, and she snatched the envelope from his hand. Her pride stung too much to see his satisfied expression, so she grabbed her things and walked out the door. She was surprised to see Dugan waiting there.
“Dugan.”
He nodded. “Ms. Keats.” There was no, how was your vacation? Or are you excited to return home? He knew, and she wanted to hug him in the hopes he might be the one true friend she had made through all this. Perhaps he could sympathize with her and tell her it would all be all right.
But he wasn’t her friend. He was a chauffeur for crying out loud, a chauffeur loyal to the man fucking her over. Tears bit at her eyes, so she lowered her head and climbed in the car, where she could wipe away the evidence of her heartache in privacy.
Lucian followed a few minutes later. Evelyn never took her gaze off the window. There was not a single sound aside from the engine purring and tires rolling over the long highway back to Folsom.
When they arrived in the city, some sort of fear and unspeakable panic choked her. It became difficult to breathe, and she actually feared she might faint.
Lucian’s hand covered hers and she jerked it away. “Here, drink this.” He handed her a bottle of water, which she grudgingly took. She was incredibly thirsty and hadn’t realized it.
They went off the beaten path to Patras and headed into one of the nicer residential sections. She knew where it was, sort of, but not really. He was going to drop her off here, like a dog sent off to the pound.
Her fingers itched and tightened into fists. She suddenly had the urge to claw his eyes out. It took everything she had to remain still.
They pulled up outside a pristine brick complex with decorated flower boxes on each window. It was an older building overflowing with historical charm. There seemed to be three floors and along the side, stacked like little cakes, were three garden balconies. Was this her new home?
“Would you like me to walk you up?”
“I would like nothing less.”
She reached for the door and he engaged the locks. The cab of the limo filled with a resounding snick.
She seethed, despising the impotent position she was in. A hopeless pawn sent out to the slaughter, that’s what she was. Never a queen, only ever a toy sent to amuse to king.
“Lucian—”
“Just let me say my piece and then you can go. In thirty days I will be back for you. If you have any trouble or need anything at all, I want you to call Dugan if you don’t wish to call me. If you do want to speak to me, all you have to do is call and I’ll come back for you, but you have to ask. I’ve left you Dr. Sheffield’s number as well and a few others in case you need them.” He took a deep breath. “I know I have no right to ask for any favors, Evelyn, but . . . please, don’t do anything hasty. What we have is real. It isn’t something time can break. Please, just . . . thirty days and I will fix everything.”
“What we have is nothing. Time won’t break it. You did that on your own.” She unlocked the door and climbed out. As the door shut behind her, she broke and sucked in a breath that escaped on the wake of a swallowed sob.
“Ready, Ms. Keats?”
She looked at Dugan and tried for a smile. “I know he wants you to see me in, but I can’t. I need to walk away now.” She approached him and went up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for everything, Big D. Sorry I never got to make you pee your pants from laughing.”
“You will.”
Sweet of him to act like they would be seeing each other again. She didn’t have the energy to refute it. Turning, she headed through the glass, maple-framed doors. Her fingers shook as she opened the envelope. She wouldn’t look back.
She pulled out a note, several credit cards, and a key. Third floor.
A man at a desk cleared his throat. “May I help you?”
No. No one could. “I’m Evelyn Keats.”
“Ah, Ms. Keats, welcome. Do you have any other bags?”
“No, just this.”
He nodded. He was an older gentleman with wiry gray eyebrows and soft blue eyes. “Very well then, miss.”
Her smile fell short. She nodded and continued on.
There was an antiquated elevator that carried her to the third floor. It was a small, private establishment. She realized there was only one apartment per floor. After taking a deep breath, she unlocked the door and stepped in.
She wasn’t prepared for what she found on the other side. All of her belongings, her favorite blanket from the penthouse, her iPad, her clothing, everything had been moved there. That’s when it truly hit her.
He was never coming back.
A thousand knives stabbed her from the inside out. She gripped the counter and fell slowly to her knees. It didn’t matter that the place was beautiful. It didn’t matter that he had arranged for her to have everything she needed. There was only one thing she needed, the one thing she couldn’t have. Him.