THE WATER was colder than I would have expected as it worked its way around my body like claws, dragging me to the depths. I was surrounded by snapping and popping sounds as the lake instantly drew the heat from my skin. My momentum carried me deep under the water until I was so deep I risked not being able to fight my way back to the surface. Finally, I was able to stop the downward pull and dragged my arms through the water to try to force myself up and away from the place I went under before I had to surface. My lungs burned as I forced myself to open my eyes and orient myself under the water. Despite the danger of boats and debris, I thought the safest place for me to go would be under the bridge and then to follow it back the way I’d come. I was certain Ethan would expect me to continue in the direction I’d been driving in.

I broke the surface but only kept my head above water long enough to swallow a fresh lungful of air, and then I dove back into the depths of the lake and moved toward the shore. My arms ached as I struggled against the strong currents and whirlpools near the pylons of the bridge. I forced myself back to the surface and hid between the supports, clutching to the concrete as I tried to recover my breath and orientate myself for what I hoped would be the final leg of my swim.

I pulled myself ashore, exhausted and on the verge of collapse. Without allowing myself a moment to relax, I dragged myself into an area of dense trees and finally rested my body for a moment. Sirens wailed in the distance, and I wondered whether they were for the accident scene of my truck. At some point, I might have even slumped into unconsciousness—certainly the sun seemed to pass noon quicker than I would have expected otherwise.

My still partly wet and extremely muddy clothes clung tightly to my body, dissipating any heat I tried to infuse into my limbs. Eventually, the need for answers and to check on the two most important people in my life overshadowed the fatigue in my body, and I headed back toward Charlotte. I had to know whether Dad and Clay were okay. There were so many questions and worries eating me from the inside that I could barely restrain myself from running most of the way home.

Due to the caution I took at every road and intersection, the journey back was almost twice as long as it should been. By the time I neared the end of my street, it was well after dusk, and the dark of night clung to everything.

I’d barely turned onto the road when red and blue lights flashed out chaotic patterns that beat against the white houses and bounced off car windows all around me. A second after I’d seen the lights, the cacophony of sirens all wailing a slightly different tune filled the air. I watched the macabre disco pass by in a dizzying rush, all spilling from my street out into the rest of city. Knowing I must have looked an absolute mess, I turned my head away from the procession of vehicles to avoid raising any unwanted interest.

“Evie!”

I jumped a mile when I heard my name called from a patch of trees halfway down the street. “Clay!” I screamed his name before racing toward his voice, not even stopping to consider the possibility of any lingering danger. “I was so worried. I thought I’d never see you again.”

He stepped out of the shadow, and I immediately noticed a dark patch staining his cheek. Another red mark ran the length of his face. It was clear he’d been hurt in the fight. He’d incurred the injuries because of me—fighting for me.

“What happened?” I asked, running my finger over the skin below the gash.

He tilted his head away from my touch. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You got hurt saving me—of course it matters,” I said. Then I smiled at him. He was okay. We were both okay. That simple fact was more than I could have hoped for when I heard his brother and father that morning. “Don’t worry though, Dad’s very adept at first aid. There was a time he was going to be a doctor, you know?”

The corners of his mouth turned down even further as he snapped his head away from a fresh attempt to examine his wound. “I came here as quickly as I could. I hoped you’d come back here even though it was dangerous to return. I had to know you were safe, especially considering—” he stopped as a choking sound stole his voice.

“Considering what?” I reached for his hand and placed it on my cheek.

He didn’t answer me; instead, his face crumpled into a mask of grief. When his gaze slide past mine, his eyes were hollow—empty. He blinked his lifeless eyes and pushed his bottom jaw out as a subdued sob left his throat. I didn’t understand his distress.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I reassured him, holding his face in my hands and drawing his eyes to mine. He couldn’t hold my gaze, and I figured it might have been because he’d worked himself up with concern for me. I pressed my lips to his again and again, but instead of calming him it made him start to sob. “I had a close call,” I gently brushed the skin underneath the cut on his face, “but I’m safe. We both are.”

He shook his head. Nothing I did or said seemed to calm him in the least. If anything, it all served to make him more agitated. “There was a fire,” he said, turning his head in the direction of the house.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you were in there. I thought . . .” he choked on his breath. “But you weren’t and, oh god, I’m so sorry, Evie.”

“What is it?” My heart raced as I realized his concern might not have been for me.

“Your house, it’s . . .” He choked again before taking a deep breath and looking away.

My hands closed over my mouth to stop from crying out as the cause of his agitation became clear. Then I remembered the coroner’s van that had passed me earlier, and the reality of it hit me with full force. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” I wailed.

Clay closed his eyes and took another breath before shaking his head. He couldn’t even look me in the eye as he delivered the news, “Your Dad . . . he didn’t make it.”

I shook my head. “No, he would have left.” After the initial thought flooded through me, my mind shut down and refused to process his words. They can’t be right. “How can you say that?” I cried. “He’s okay! He’s got to be okay. He just escaped without anyone seeing him, that’s all. We’ve done it before.”

Clay shook his head sadly.

“We’ve done it before!” I screamed with all the fury I could muster. Dad couldn’t . . . he couldn’t just be gone.

The forlorn look on Clay’s face wiped away all traces of hope that had begun to build in me.

“No,” I whispered as my knees gave way.

He stepped into the space between my arms and pressed his body against mine, holding my weight against himself. As I fell to pieces, he found the strength he needed to support me.

“What happened?” I asked, needing to hear his voice and wanting confirmation of what I already suspected. Even though doing so would allow the worst of my fears to come to light.

“When I got there, he . . .” A shuddering sob ripped through him. “He was already . . .” He held my head against his chest as sobs escaped me. “Evie, I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered.

His words and the sorrowful tone of his voice were too much for me to handle. I ripped myself out of his arms and ran toward the house, taking great gasping breaths as I sprinted as fast as I could. I stumbled as I got closer to the smoldering site, falling heavily onto the grass. My head spun as I tried to pull myself upright, but I couldn’t gain control of my legs or get enough air into my lungs. I dragged myself up until I was supported on all fours. Dizziness overtook me as reality hit me. I’d lost my father. The taste of smoke burned my tongue and forced vomit into my throat.

Strong hands wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me upright. Clay held me against the front of his body, supporting me completely with his arms crossed in front of my chest. He nuzzled his nose into my hair and tried to comfort me, tried to make me leave before I saw anymore, but I had to know. I had to see for myself.

With Clay trailing behind me every step of the way, I covered the last of the distance toward the house and fell to my knees again. The house that Dad and I had shared until early that morning was gone. In its place was a hideous skeleton of ash and debris, rising up out of the block. The trees that had surrounded our makeshift home were largely untouched by the fire that had consumed everything else but bent inward toward the yawning space as if they too were mourning a loss.

A high keening sound issued from me as the gruesome reality tore through my mind and ripped the tattered shreds of my heart into tiny pieces. Clay pulled me against his body to try to stop the sound.

“It’s my fault,” I whispered as a fresh wave of nausea ripped through me. “It’s all my fault.” The words spilled from my mouth again and again without thought. I couldn’t stop them even if I’d tried.

“I’m sorry,” Clay murmured.

“It’s my fault.” I raised my eyes to his as the words escaped again and saw him flinch in response. I tugged at my hair, wishing I could tear out the ruby-colored evidence of my uniqueness and somehow become a normal person; a person who didn’t get her father killed because of her own selfish desires.

Words of anger and sorrow poured from me so swiftly that I couldn’t even be certain of what I’d said. My eyes burned with the dried salt of my tears, and my sobs came in great, painful chest-wrenching cries. Eventually, realizing that they weren’t helping, I slowed my sobs and stilled my tongue.

One inescapable fact kept circling my mind—if I hadn’t left Dad, he might have still been alive. He’d had no warning of the impending attack and was alone when it happened. Clay placed his hands on my shoulders and helped me back to my feet before wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against his body. With my cheek pressed tightly to his chest, I could hear the thundering of his rapid heartbeat.

“It’s all my fault,” I said again, pressing my body against Clay’s as if getting closer to him would somehow remove the pain.

“It’s not,” he insisted, lifting my chin to look at him.

I absorbed the sorrow and guilt in his eyes and understood what he meant. He’d been the one who had hunted me down and accidentally tipped off his family to my whereabouts. He’d been the reason I’d left the house when Dad had needed me most. He was the reason I’d had to endure the terror of fleeing from his brother rather than being where I should have been, at Dad’s side.

It was Clay’s family that had murdered my father. He’d known it could happen, and yet he’d forced his way back into my life anyway.

Everything fell into place in my mind. “This is your fault,” I whispered venomously.

His hold on me loosened slightly with my words, and I took the chance to pull myself fully away from him.

“You . . . you killed him!” My voice escaped as a high-pitched wail that I didn’t recognize. “You took him from me!”

Tears tracked down Clay’s face. He reached out his arms as if he wanted to hold me again, but didn’t move any closer. The defeat on his face confirmed that I was right. Whether by his action or inaction, he’d caused my father’s death. Whereas a few moments earlier, all I needed was for him to comfort me, now I wanted retribution.

“You did this to me!” I stepped toward him and smacked both of my fists against his chest in time with my words. His choices had led us to this seemingly inevitable end; he was as guilty as if he’d pulled the trigger himself. “You killed my Daddy!”

He dropped his chin to his chest as he stood still and took my abuse without fighting back or resisting. It wasn’t what I wanted; I needed him to be tormented and hurting to ease my own pain. If only I could share the agony that was flooding through every inch of my body and soul, it would ease my suffering. I wanted to be the one to inflict it on him, but I wanted to have to fight for it. I didn’t want him to just passively accept it all.

“You stole him from me!” My body warmed. as anger and sorrow flowed through me. My fists ached as they beat against Clay’s chest. As each strike fell, my emptiness grew. Inflicting physical pain on him wasn’t helping like I’d thought it would.

I needed something more.

“I hate you!” I screamed.

The words spurred him into action; he finally stopped my assault by grabbing my wrists and lifting my hands away from his body. He gripped them tightly as I continued to struggle with tears and convulsing sobs flowing from me without restraint. He pulled me into an embrace just firm enough to pin my arms and hands between us against his chest.

“We need to leave here,” he whispered against the top of my head. “It’s not safe for you.”

I tried to resist as he pulled me away from the site but, for possibly the first time ever, he used his strength against me. “Just let me find you somewhere to stay for tonight,” he said as his hands closed around my shoulder to guide me from the place where my father had lost his life. “Then I’ll go.”

I shivered as the reality of the situation struck. I had no home, no family, nothing. All I had left were the clothes on my back and even those were filthy—covered with mud, tears, and splatters of vomit.

At the thought, the fight left me completely, and I allowed Clay to guide me. I was little more than a zombie walking around with a dead heart and empty mind as he led me through the suburban streets. I was barely aware of the lights of the motel or sounds of the traffic around us.

Clay shook my shoulders lightly to rouse me from my trance.

“I’ve started a shower. It might make you feel better.”

I nodded, even though a bit of warm water on my skin would do nothing to cleanse the murky grime that coated my soul. As I trudged to the bathroom, I shed my clothes. I didn’t know or even care whether Clay was still in the room.

When I reached the bathroom, I drew back the shower curtain and stood beneath the stream. Before long, each droplet was like a lead bullet striking my skin.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

With a sob, I sank to the floor of the shower, allowing the water to carry away the evidence of my agony.

Clay came in sometime later when the tears were gone and nothing but a cold emptiness remained. I’d shut off the water in the shower, but couldn’t find the strength to get to my feet.

“Are you okay?”

I shook my head even though there was a shower curtain between us and he probably couldn’t see me. Talking seemed like too much effort. Just like standing.

Or breathing.

The morning seemed like a distant memory, and I wished I could go back and start the day again.

“Evie?” He paused again and the silence stretched out between us. “Evie, I’m going to open the curtain, okay?”

I closed my eyes to avoid looking at him as he drew the curtain back. Something soft and dry draped around my body a moment later.

Clay lifted me from the base of the shower as he supported me in his arms. I pressed my head against his T-shirt as a fresh wave of sorrow washed over me. Every time I thought I’d cried my last tear they started again, as if they would never stop.

With great care, he placed me onto the bed and brushed the wet hair from my face. His fingers lingered over my cheek as he wiped away my tears. After checking I was okay, he reached around me for something on the bed. He held up a new sleep shirt, and I sat up to slip it over my head. It barely skimmed the base of my hips, but the last thing I cared about in that moment was my modesty.

With a speed I didn’t know I still possessed, I wrapped my arms around his neck. Desperation filled me. I need him. Craved closeness and comfort. With him in my hold, I dragged him onto the bed beside me.

I tried to tell him thank you for being there, but nothing came out. My voice was just another casualty of the day; the intense sobs for the loss of my father had stolen it away.

Clay twisted us until he was on his back with his arms cradling my waist, and his hands were crossed at the small of my back. Resting my chest against his, his fingers trailed across the bare skin at the base of my spine. My body melted against his and my tears fell in earnest as my grief found a fresh outlet. He kissed the top of my head and sighed. As he held me tight, his tears mingled with mine.

My head rested against his shoulder, my nose brushing against the curve of his neck, and I pressed my knee between his thighs. Curled in his arms, I laid with him until all of my tears were spent.

If it had been anyone else, I might’ve been embarrassed by my outburst and weakness. Not with Clay, though. With him, it was easy to give this part of myself—my weakness—to him.

To be cared for, safe, and not alone.

 

 

I HAD NO idea how long I’d spent curled against Clay’s side, but the dull sunlight of an overcast day was peeking around the curtains when I next became aware of anything. Uncertain of exactly what I was doing, but needing to force my grief away somehow, I pressed my lips against his collarbone.

“Evie?” he questioned, his voice gruff from his own tears and lack of sleep.

I twisted in his arms and moved my lips to his. He tasted of salt and sorrow as I pressed my tongue into his mouth.

In response to my kiss, his hands trailed the length of my spine and into my hair. His fingertips rubbed gentle circles against my scalp. A fresh round of tears build within me.

I fought them off by deepening the kiss.

His other hand traced along the outside of my thigh, brushing life and sensitivity into my numb skin. His mouth was hungry and wanting as it devoured my sorrow. I moved to straddle his lap, but he flipped us before I could.

Almost instantly, his lips were back on mine as he rested his weight over me, with his hands on either side of the pillow under my head. He pulled away as if to ask me something, and I saw the ravages the previous day and night had done to him. I’d been so consumed by my own grief, I’d forgotten about the gash across his cheek and the bruise that ran the length of his face. In addition, a myriad of bruises trailed the length of his arms, crisscrossed in places by tiny cuts. Dark black circles ringed around his eyes adding to his sorrowful appearance. I wanted to kiss away his pain and let him take mine from me.

Resting his weight down onto one elbow, he used his free hand to brush the hair back off my face. He seemed to regard me carefully, as if only just seeing me for the first time. A frown crossed his features, and suddenly he’d pulled himself into a sitting position. I followed him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

“Evie, wait,” he said, grabbing my hand to pull it away from him.

I wasn’t so easily deterred though, instead continuing to press my lips over the stubble on his jawline. I placed my hand behind his head and dragged him closer to me.

“Please don’t,” he said with a sadness I didn’t understand.

“Kiss me,” I whispered.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

I pressed my finger against his lip. “Don’t think. Just feel.” My hands pushed up the bottom of his tee, but he brushed me off and pulled away.

“Evie,” he growled.

“Please, Clay?”

“I can’t, I just . . . I can’t.” He left the bed completely, dragging himself from the comfort of my arms and pacing the room in front of me.

“What is it?” I asked as I tugged the T-shirt I wore lower to cover myself, without him pressed against me I was suddenly aware of how little I had on. Something had shifted in the last few minutes, and I didn’t understand what.

“I don’t know how to say this.” His hand scrubbed the back of his neck with such ferocity that I thought he might tear away his skin. It was almost as if he thought he could erase the day if he rubbed hard enough. “I thought we could make this thing work between us, but I was wrong.”

“What are you saying?” Despite my desire to sound casual, my voice caught in my throat, and my fingers shook.

“I didn’t want to do this just yet,” he murmured and then looked at me before groaning and turning away. “But I can’t go on like this. Being here with you, like this, your kisses . . . Your body . . . It all just makes me want to take you in my arms and never let go.”

“Then do that,” I said. “It works for me.”

“I can’t stay. Not after yesterday. Everything that happened, it was my fault.”  He choked on the words as they rushed from him. “I can’t let that happen to you. I won’t.”

“Is this about what I said?” I asked. My memories of the last twenty-four hours were fuzzy at best, but I recalled my desire to make him hurt.

“No. Yes. But it’s not for the reason you’re probably thinking.”

“Then why?” My voice was so quiet in my own ears, I was certain he wouldn’t be able to hear me over the drumming of my heart.

“Being here with you, it isn’t my place in the world.”

“I don’t care about the world,” I growled. “I didn’t think you did either?”

“I do, Evie. At least, I do now.”

“Why? I thought I was important to you? More important than any of that stuff,” I challenged. Everything was going wrong and it seemed as though he had one hand on the door. Despite having already cried myself dry, my eyes stung with the threat of a fresh bout. He couldn’t come into my life, turn it all around in a week, and then leave again as if nothing had happened.

“You are. So important,” he said, his own tears stealing away his voice. “If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be leaving. I can’t see you hurt because of me.”

A sob escaped me as he said the last word. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

He covered the distance between us in less than one of my racing heartbeats and pulled me into him again. “I know it doesn’t, but I can’t explain it better. Yesterday . . . God, Evie, I thought you were dead. And your father . . . It’s my fault. All of it. If I hadn’t tried to find you . . .”

I closed my eyes and held him tighter. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t go.”

“I have to. My family, they expect me to go with them. If I don’t they’ll come back for me. They’ll try again and again to find me. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but if I stay it’s as if I was putting a gun to your head and pulling the trigger.”

“You won’t hurt me,” I said. It was something I’d almost meant when I’d said it a week ago, but now I had no doubt it was true.

“I won’t, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be safe with me either. I was a fool for thinking that I could ever escape my past. Too many people know me. Anyone from the Rain could recognize me and report that they’d seen me. I can’t save you from that.” He gasped for air and raked both hands roughly through his hair. “Don’t you understand? I’m not strong enough to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection.”

“I know you don’t. You’re so strong, Evie, strong enough to do this on your own. I know you are. That’s the reason I have to leave. My being here with you, it’s only put you in more danger. I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, and he fell to his knees is front of me. His eyes were glazed and red as he glanced up at me. “I can’t be the reason you die too,” he said in a broken whisper.

“So that’s it?” I said, turning away from his sorrow. “I’ve just lost my father. I’ve lost everything! And you choose this moment to leave? You turned my life upside down and you’re just going to leave me here alone?”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I promise I’ll make this right someday. I just . . .” He swallowed audibly, “I don’t know how.”

“What am I supposed to do now?” I asked. Despite my earlier assertion that I didn’t need protection, I didn’t really know how to survive without my father either. He’d tried so hard to infuse all of his knowledge in me, teaching me the same lessons time and time again, but there were still a number of massive gaps in my own knowledge. I’d always promised myself I’d learn more and planned to listen better “one day.” I choked on the fact that there wouldn’t be a one day anymore.

Clay pressed his hand against my cheek, but I pulled away from his touch. He curled his fingers into his palms before standing and forcing his fists into his pockets. “I don’t know, but I know you’ll figure it out.”

I wanted to scream and rant at him. To tell him he couldn’t do this to me. It was all too overwhelming though. My heart splintered a little more with each step he took toward the door.

The air between us was heavy and strained, enforcing the growing distance that loomed ever closer. The weight of it seemed to spur him into action, and he walked away from me. He stopped briefly to glance back at me before grabbing his bag and slinging it onto his shoulder.

I couldn’t let him have the last word. “You said that you might as well have put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger,” I murmured. “Well, you know what?”

I waited until his feet had stilled, and I could be sure he was listening.

“It would have been kinder if you’d just killed me.”

He roared loudly and smashed his fist into the wall as the words I’d issued with every intention of inflicting pain hit their mark. I yelped with fear and shrunk away from his outburst.

Resting his fist against the dent he’d left in the drywall, he took a few deep breaths until he gained control over himself again. “I’ve left all of my cash and there are some clothes for you in that bag.” Without looking back at me, he nodded his head in the direction of a brand-new bag resting against the wall. “The room is paid for until Wednesday morning,” he murmured as he reached for the door handle.

“And then I’m on my own.” Completely alone.

He held his hand on the doorframe and, for a moment, it seemed like he was going to change his mind and stay, but then he nodded. “One day, it might be safe for us. When that day comes, I’ll find you.”

“Don’t bother,” I said as I curled into a ball on the bed. “One day” was a lie we told ourselves to make up for our inaction. I understood that now. I’d never know whether or not he heard me though because the moment the words left my mouth, the door slammed shut. The loud bang was the sound that finally broke through the dam restraining my tears.

I rushed from the bed and ran to the door, kicking it in frustration as the tears streamed from my eyes. Clenching my fingers into a tight fist, I copied Clay’s earlier action, smashing my fist into the same spot he’d hit. Over and over, I punched the one reminder of Clay left in the room. My fingers grew numb, and then the familiar burn flickered across my skin.

“Damn you!” I screamed.

I continued my assault on the room until there was a knock on the door.

With tear-soaked eyes, I ripped it open, expecting to see an apologetic Clay on the other side.

Instead, it was the manager on duty warning me that if the noise didn’t cease I would be ejected from the premises. Once she’d left, I slammed the door shut and leaned against it. Seconds later, I slid to the ground, consumed by the sorrow of losing both of the men in my life in such a short time.