Chapter 18

Sometimes I use words I don’t understand so I can sound more photosynthesis.

-T-shirt

Ridley

I woke up two hours after going to bed in a cold sweat.

Nightmares swirled in my brain, and I swallowed thickly to coax the bile back into my belly where it belonged.

Freya dying.

That’d been the fourth dream this week about her dying.

I picked at the comforter that covered my body.

It was the same one Aerie and I had gotten on our wedding day.

I hated it.

Hated the color. Hated the way it felt. Hated that it reminded me of her.

Hated might not be a strong enough word for what I felt about the stupid comforter.

My eyes scanned the space surrounding me, and what I saw made my heart hurt.

Everything screamed Aerie.

The curtains. Her jewelry box.

Without thinking, I threw off the comforter covering my lower half, wadded it into a ball, and threw it onto the floor.

Then, without another thought, I started gathering everything that reminded me of her.

Everything.

Once I was done, I walked into the kitchen, grabbed a black trash bag from under the sink, and went back to my room where I proceeded to throw Aerie away.

Everything that she was, memorialized for the last five years, gone in a matter of minutes.

Once I was done, I looked around at the bare room, my heart beating a frantic tattoo against my ribs.

But as I looked, I realized everything that I’d been holding onto, wasn’t really Aerie at all.

Aerie was gone, and it was time for me to stop acting like the poor, wounded widower and take control of my life.

If I wanted Freya in my life, I had to stop giving her mixed signals.

And I’d start by telling her about Aerie right this second.

I didn’t even spare a glance at the clock, because if I had, I would’ve probably halted and waited for morning.

But I didn’t.

Padding down the hallway, I peeked my head into the bedroom I’d stashed Freya in and studied the bed.

It was empty.

Frowning, I walked further into the room, flipping the lamp on at the bedside as I did.

“Freya?” I called loudly.

She didn’t respond.

My niece did, though.

Trying to hide my smile, I walked out into the hallway and moved one door down, opening the door to Emily’s room and smiling when I saw her flailing in the bed.

“What’s wrong, pretty girl?” I asked, reaching for her.

“Probably the fact that you woke her up because you’re screaming at three in the goddamned morning,” Apple growled from the doorway.

I shrugged.

“Where’s Freya?” I asked him. “Did you pass her in the living room?”

“Nope,” Apple held out his hands for Emily.

I handed her over and walked into the living room.

By the time I hit up the garage, I knew she wasn’t there.

“Shit,” I groaned, walking back to my bedroom and getting my phone.

Pressing her number into the dial screen, I waited while it rang and rang.

She never answered.

I called again.

She still didn’t answer.

“Fuck,” I said, dropping the phone onto my bed.

Where was she?

I knew she wouldn’t go home.

She wasn’t that crazy.

She knew I was having her here with me not just because I wanted her here, but because fucking Hanson Coller was a douchebag and deadly when it came to me.

Since he knew I was with Freya, he’d stop at nothing to fuck with her.

I wasn’t sure if he’d kill her, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

I’d taken his son away, and he’d never been very happy about that.

By the time I was able to get Wolf on the line, I had worked myself into a fine panic.

“What?” Wolf asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“I need you to tell me where Freya’s car is right now,” I said, staring at the part of the driveway where her car had been when I’d arrived home.

It was empty now, achingly so.

Wolf’s muttered, ‘fuck’ was audible as I heard him slide out of bed.

Long minutes went by as I waited, and then he came back on the line sounding more awake this time.

“Locator puts her a couple miles from you. She’s at her brother’s house,” he answered.

I sighed.

“Thanks,” I muttered. “Sorry I woke you.”

He hung up without replying.

And I started jogging down the street, shirtless and unarmed, making the two-minute drive in an eight-minute jog.

The lights were blazing at Corey’s house as I turned into the driveway, unsurprised to find it that way.

I didn’t announce myself, instead I looked in from the window, watching as she cried in the middle of the couch.

My heart ached for her.

Not able to stand it anymore, I tapped lightly on the glass, hoping she wouldn’t give me a hard time about coming inside.

Her head snapped up, and her ravaged, tear-stricken face ripped my heart out.

“Let me in,” I said softly.

She got up, wiping her tears as she did, and opened the door without another word.

Then she ran into my arms, wrapping both around my shoulders and burying her face into my neck.

“It hurts,” she whispered, devastation shaking her voice.

I turned my head and placed a kiss on the side of her neck.

“I know, baby. I wish I could say it gets better, but I’d be lying,” I told her softly.

“I wish you could take the pain away,” she cried. “God, I want him back so bad.”

I walked to the couch and sat down gently, wrapping both arms tightly around her back and holding her as she cried.

And I waited.

I would wait as long as it took.

Because she was mine, and I hated to see her cry.

When the last tear finally slid down my belly, I waited for more to come, but none did.

My hands lifted to run through her hair and she leaned her head into the caress.

My fingers sifted through her long blonde hair, over and over.

The more I did it, the softer she got in my arms until she was giving me all of her weight.

This was different than all our other embraces.

This wasn’t about sex.

This wasn’t about anything but her and the comfort she needed.

“You didn’t tell me you were married,” she whispered, almost so softly that I didn’t hear it.

Almost.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “Aerie. We got married right after I got out of the army.”

She didn’t stiffen like I expected her to. Instead, she stayed limp in my arms, her face still placed against my neck.

I felt her breathing, strong and steady, so I continued without her asking.

“We were friends in high school and wrote to each other while I was in the army. That grew into a relationship. I only had eyes for Aerie, and the same for her with me,” I explained. “She was killed during a robbery at our house.”

Her gasp had her sitting up and staring at me with shock and pain etched all over her face.

“Who?” she asked.

“Hanson Coller’s son,” I answered.

Her eyes widened.

“Yeah, now you can see why I freaked out the way I did,” I said. “He never got over the fact that his son was killed.”

“Did you kill him?” she asked softly.

I nodded.

“Responded to my wife’s 9-1-1 call,” I answered. “Saw him in the house…and I killed him. But he’d already killed Aerie right before I got there.”

A lone tear slipped down Freya’s face.

I caught it with my thumb, wiping it away as if it’d never been.

“Don’t cry,” I told her roughly. “It’s over.”

“It’s not over,” she countered. “Otherwise you wouldn’t still be beating yourself up over her death.”

“How do you know I’ve been doing that?” I challenged, knowing she was right but refusing to tell her so.

She gave me a look that said she could see straight through me.

“You’ve told me what your favorite food is. Where you like to go when you need time to think. What your favorite brand of socks are. Who your brother was. All about your sister and her man. All about your niece. If you’d been able to talk about Aerie, you would have,” she explained.

She had me there, and she was right.

I would have if I could have.

I wasn’t sure what exactly had changed, but cleaning out my room and taking everything that reminded me of Aerie out had been a cleansing of sorts.

I felt, almost, free.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I wish I could tell you that it wasn’t on purpose, but it was. Talking about her hurts. Right here.”

I pointed to my chest.

Telling her about that familiar ache that never seemed to go away made her eyes light up with commiseration.

“That’s what I feel about each and every time I think about Corey,” she said. “I think of something I want to tell him, and I can hardly breathe it hurts so bad.”

I looked around then, finally allowing myself to see Corey’s things, and my eyes caught a white note on the table.

Breakfast with F. 0900.

“It’s my fault,” I said again. “I asked him to take Kitt.”

She was shaking her head before I’d even finished.

“He had a secret crush on Kitt,” she said. “That wasn’t his first time taking her. He told me about it. He neglected to tell me he used to take your spare bike out afterwards, but I knew. He could’ve just as easily died on the job, or on his way home from work.”

I knew that.

But it didn’t make it any better.

I still felt guilty over it.

Kitt did, too.

“Your sister needs to let it go, too,” Freya sighed. “I had that talk with her tonight.”

I pulled her to me and hugged her tightly.

“You ready to go to sleep?” I asked.

She pushed away from me and looked around, staring at all the things she had brought over in boxes and had yet to go through, and nodded.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll come back tomorrow. Check out everything.”

A wet nose touched my hand and I moved to pet Sharpy on the head.

She licked my hand, and I absently stroked her as I said, “We’ll come tomorrow. I have the day off.”

She grinned.

My phone rang in my pocket and I shifted to reach it.

Freya got off my lap, giving me easier access, and I answered before pressing the phone against my ear.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Deputy Walker, this is Agent Fork,” the FBI agent that’d shown up earlier in the day, no nonsense in his voice at all. “I need to get you to meet me down at the office.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Why?” I asked.

He didn’t pull any punches.

“The establishment that you visited, Daisy’s Tattoo Parlor, was broken into last night. The woman that owns it, Daisy Mendes, was killed. We need you to meet us down here and answer some questions.”

“Fuck,” I said. “Can you give me thirty minutes? I’m not at home, I’m down the street with my woman.”

“Okay,” he said. “Can you bring her too? That’ll save us from having to bring her in without you.”

I gritted my teeth.

Looking over at Freya, I knew she was about to hear something she wouldn’t want to hear.

“Fine,” I said. “We’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

Freya’s head snapped up, and her brows furrowed in question.

I held up my hand at her, halting her questions.

“That’s fine,” Agent Fork agreed. “See you soon.”

Then he was gone, and I was left explaining that a woman that Freya had liked had been killed, and we were supposed to go answer questions about it.