I woke in Hadley’s bed, the room dark, with that strange uncertainty if it had been a dream or reality that jolted me from sleep. Reaching over, my hand fell to an empty pillow. Her side of the bed was cold. I rubbed my eyes, looking toward the bathroom. Not there.
Sliding out of bed, I grabbed my boxers from the floor and slipped them on before walking out. Just as my foot hit the first step on the staircase, I heard the shattering sound of glass breaking on the hardwood floor.
On instinct, I darted into my room, pulled out the lockbox from my nightstand, and pushed the loaded clip into my Beretta. Hugging the wall, I descended the stairs. Streams of white poured into the foyer from the security lights at the front of the house, the backside likewise illuminated by floodlights.
In front of the sliding glass doors that led to the back porch, I found Hadley dressed in my sweatshirt, sitting in a constellation of broken glass and rocking back and forth. I clicked the safety on and lowered my gun, hiding it behind my back.
“Hadley?” I approached her from the landing at the base of the stairs, taking several tentative strides to reach her. “What’s wrong?” I stopped, backing up to slide on a pair of shoes and grab her sandals from the foyer. “Punky? It’s me.”
She didn’t acknowledge me, staring out the window into the yard. Close enough now, I recognized the blue shards of a vase that had once sat on the end table by the couch. Not a single knickknack of my mother’s had ever been moved or rearranged in the house since her death. I forced myself not to react to the broken memento.
“Sweetheart.”
When my shoe crunched on the glass, Hadley’s head jerked up. I placed my hand on her shoulder and she tensed, flinching away.
“What’s wrong?”
“I did it wrong,” she replied in a tired voice. “I can’t fix it. I can’t finish and I can’t go back.” In a sudden fit, her fist launched at the wall. She didn’t react to the pain, sitting otherwise motionless.
That explained the vase.
“I’m stuck.”
“How long have you been sitting here?” I crouched down, rubbing one hand up and down her arm.
“I don’t know.” Her voice broke. “I can’t fix it.”
“Let me help.”
I set the gun down to wrap my arms around her. The second it hit the floor, Hadley’s attention snapped to the object. She jerked away.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” I insisted as she tried to get away. I slid the gun across the floor until it disappeared into the kitchen. “You’re safe, Hadley.” I shifted to meet her eyes, holding her face between my hands. “Do you understand? You’re safe. I watched you, like I always watch. You know I wouldn’t let you miss anything, right? All the doors are locked, the windows tight, and the alarm is set. It’s just us, sweetheart. I promise.”
“I have to check the rest of the locks,” she insisted in a panicked voice, “but I can’t move. Something’s wrong with this one. I can’t—something’s different.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know!” she shouted. The sudden outburst cut through the room and echoed off the walls of the empty house. “I don’t know why this lock feels different. I don’t know why it woke me up. I don’t know why I have to sit here and stare at it but can’t just check it and move on. I don’t fucking know!”
“It’s okay, Hadley. I’ll help. We’ll start again. I’ll stay with you the whole time, okay?”
“No,” she snapped. “This one is different. I can’t— You don’t understand. I know what every lock in this house sounds like, feels like when it clicks. This one,” she enunciated, pointing with one rigid finger at the sliding glass door, “is not the same.”
“I believe you,” I answered. “Tell me what to do to fix it.”
“I. Don’t. Know!”
She aimed for the wall again, but this time I caught her wrist to stop her. One broken hand in this house was enough.
At a loss for better options, I took a deep breath and prepared myself for war. Giving her no chance to fight me off, I hoisted Hadley into my arms. She struggled, kicking and yelling at me to put her down. She fought me, but I suffered through it until I got up the stairs and dumped her on her bed. She ran for the door. I forced her out of the way to lock it, throwing all my weight up against it to keep her there.
“What are you doing?” she yelled.
“I needed my phone and I wasn’t going to leave you alone.”
We stood inches apart. Her chest heaved with frantic breaths. I knew I was torturing her, but it couldn’t be helped.
“Hand me the phone,” I said.
“Get it yourself.”
“Damn it, Hadley. Fucking give me the damn phone. I’m not letting you out this door.”
She growled, huffed, stomped, and then chucked my phone at my head. I caught it in my right hand and winced at the pain. She had quite an arm on her. Scrolling down my contact list, I made the call. It rang five times.
“Dude, what the hell?”
It was 4:00 a.m. after a gig. Corey was not pleased to hear from me.
“I need your help. Are you sober?”
He’d left the bar earlier than the rest of us, so I had hope.
“Yeah,” he answered. He coughed over the sound of sheets rustling. “What’s up?”
“I need a new lock for the sliding glass door. Can you go to Walmart and bring it over? I’ll pay you back.”
“What happened? Where are you?”
“Home. I’d go myself but I can’t leave Hadley here and I can’t take her out. We’re fine, but this needs to be done now.”
“Yeah, okay. Whatever you need. I’ll see you in like an hour and a half.”
“Thank you,” I answered with relief. “I owe you big.”
“No, you don’t.” He hung up.
Hadley sat silent on her bed, legs curled up to her chest.
“Will this make it better? You can watch us install it and test it out and everything. Is this is okay?”
Out of an abundance of caution, I texted Corey:
Get every kind of lock they have.
I looked back to Hadley, hoping I hadn’t dragged him out of bed for no reason. She just stared at me.
“Sweetheart.” I approached with caution. It was a real possibility that she’d slug me or kick me in the nuts. “I’ll stay right here and wait with you. I’ll do anything you want. But I’m not letting you go back down there to drive yourself crazy.”
I waited, searching for any indication that I was doing something right or making a huge mistake.
“Hadley?”
“Play for me,” she whispered. “Anything. Just sit here and play for me.”
“As you wish,” I answered with a wink. “Can I trust you if I grab my guitar from my room?”
She nodded. Because I wasn’t convinced, I ran between rooms and back, closing the door behind me. Hadley sat against the headboard and pulled the covers over her legs. I sat facing her, one foot on the floor as I pulled the pick from the first fret and began to strum a guitar version of the first song I’d written for her. Hadley closed her eyes, her fists clenched in her lap so hard her knuckles turned white.
* * *
I had just slipped back into bed when Hadley stirred. Like a cat, she coiled up in a ball around me, then stretched the length of the bed. She looked up through red, tired eyes.
“What time is it?”
“A little after seven,” I answered. “You fell asleep and I didn’t want to wake you.” I brushed her hair back from her face, letting my fingers slide down her neck. “The new lock is on. The old one was rusted out. Some pin in the latching mechanism broke and lodged in there.”
“It’s fine,” she mumbled. She lay her head down again, closing her eyes as her hand skimmed across my chest. “Thank you.”
“Of course, sweetheart.” I brushed my fingers through her hair, content that the stress had passed.
“I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“Don’t make vague statements that scare the shit out of me this early in the morning.”
“Sorry.” She draped her leg over my hip. Her fingers stroked down my abdomen and back again. “I don’t want to do my thing anymore. I don’t want you to let me do it.”
That wasn’t a fuckload of responsibility or anything.
“Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“I mean it,” Hadley insisted.
“I believe you.”
“You’re not going to say anything?”
“What should I say?”
“I think this is a pretty big deal. Don’t you want to ask why or…something?”
“Why?”
“Forget it,” she huffed. Hadley rolled over, turning away from me.
Oh, fuck that.
“Hey.” I grabbed her shoulder and forced her to look at me. “I’m right here. I’m listening. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Her expression softened, but not as much as I would have liked. She’d woken up in a bad mood.
“I had to move out of Tom’s house to feed this thing,” she said. “I invaded your house and forced myself on Simon.”
I was about to tell her she was an idiot for thinking any such thing, but her glare told me to hold my tongue.
“You spent a fortune rigging this house like Guantanamo, and on top of that you spent years rearranging your whole life to fit my habits. I hated that. I hate it now. Depending on how much of a dick you were being that day,” she said with a smirk, “I hated it a little less.”
That was fair.
“But dragging Corey out of bed at four in the morning is seriously the last straw. I’m sick of myself, you know? I don’t want to be this way anymore.”
“That all makes perfect sense to me,” I said. “But don’t spend a second worrying about Corey, my dad, and especially not me. Screw that noise. We love you. Four in the morning or two in the afternoon, it doesn’t fucking matter. If you’re serious about this, I’ll do whatever you need. I just want you to make this decision for you and not anyone else.”
Hadley nodded, biting her lip while she seemed to contemplate that for a moment. “I’ve thought about it for a while. There was a chance I was going to move out.”
I didn’t need the reminder.
“I figured I’d just go cold turkey. Maybe it’d feel different in a new city.” She sighed, looking away. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Point is I want to quit.”
“What do you need from me?” I wrapped my arm around her waist to pull her closer. “I can talk to my dad. He’ll help us find a therapist.”
She shook her head. “No. I can’t do therapy. I don’t want pills and stupid breathing exercises or whatever else. That would just be substituting one crutch for another. I have to do this my way.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t let me,” she said. “No matter how bad it gets—I’m going to have shitty days—don’t let me cheat. Don’t let me beg or bargain and guilt you into backing off.”
“Straight detox is it, then?”
“Yep.”
“Will you still love me if I have to tie you up and sit on you?”
Hadley smiled, weaving one hand into my hair and scratching her nails over my scalp. “Will you still love me if I turn into a raging bitch?”
“If?”
She tugged my hair hard. Hadley rolled over me, straddling my hips. “You’ll pay for that one.”
“Do your worst, sweetheart.” I grabbed her hips, pressing her down on my groin. “I’ll lie here and take it like a man.”
“Damn right.”
“Punky?” I took her face in my good hand, running my thumb over her cheek. “I love you. I’m proud of you. And no matter what happens, I’m always here.”
“Fuck, MacKay. Go fish your balls out of my backpack, will ya?”
“That’s my girl.”