Now
I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t help it. I need him. I need him to see that there’s no comparison. He’s it for me. We’ve lost too much in the past twenty-four hours. He lost Marcus, and I’m not going to lose him. And Dex’s importance to me painted a target on his back.
I pop the hood of the car and pull the screwdriver from the glove compartment. I prop up the hood and hone in on what I need. Bingo. Dex took the keys, so I’m forced to jack my own damn car to go look for him.
I don’t have specific memories of my father, but for some reason, I know that he’s the one who taught me how to do this. Just like I know that he’s the one who taught me to work on cars. But that’s more because Evan’s dad, Gary, helped me carry on the tradition. He gave me a thread, a lifeline, to hold onto my father’s memory. Not that it worked, but I still have his car and the skills to fix them.
Mounted on the firewall behind the driver’s-side valve cover is the starter relay. All I gotta do is bypass the relay connection. I use the metal screwdriver, and it sparks, the engine roaring to life. The advantage of classic cars is that it’s an easy fix if keys are forgotten or lost. The disadvantage is that they’re much easier to steal if the thief knows what they’re doing.
“I’m not letting you go,” Law says from across the hood. “You need to stay here. Wasn’t he bringing you here because someone is after you?”
Ignoring his question, I finish with the car. “When are you going to learn that you never let me do anything?” I slam the hood down to punctuate my words. “His best friend just died! Because of me. And then he learns that his girlfriend is also his brother’s ex! How do you not see that as a problem? I need to find him. I need to explain everything to him before I lose him.”
“You’re not just my ex, Laine.” He grips my arm to stop me.
I shake him off. “Well, I’m certainly not your girlfriend.”
“You’re mine. We fit, Bumpkin.”
I laugh manically. “That’s rich. We don’t get to go back. I know better than most that it doesn’t work. People change, and given time—space, they grow apart. Besides, you never wanted a family. You only wanted me, and that doesn’t work for me. We only worked when I pretended that the rest of my life didn’t matter. When I deluded myself into thinking that I could lead two lives.”
“You’re right, people change.” He backs me into the car, caging me in with his arms. “And you’re wrong about me. I want the family. I want more than just you and your girls. I want kids of our own too. I want—I need you. All of it. And I’ve waited long enough already. Too long.”
Shock sets in. My mouth bobs open as I grapple for a response.
“I can’t do this with you again. It’s been four years, and if you were as dead set on me as you say, you would’ve shown up before now. But yeah, it probably was a pretty sweet gig. Fuck anything you want, whenever you want, knowing that you can come back and claim me anytime. Life must have seemed peachy-fuckin’-keen from your point of view,” I scoff.
“I didn’t—”
“I love him,” I say, cutting him off. “I’m in love with him.”
He shakes his head. “Why do you always do this—undercut my emotions with your assumptions? Never give me a chance to get a word in edgewise. Not just listen, but actually hear me, Bumpkin.”
This conversation is just wasting time, and I’m losing ground to catch up with Dex. I need to end it.
“I need to find him. Get outta my way.” I shove him hard, and he doesn’t budge but reluctantly steps back.
I can see the hurt in his eyes as I step sideways and slide into the driver’s seat. He rubs the back of his neck and watches me, his jaw clenched tight. I put the car in reverse and back up, faster than necessary. But I’ve time to make up for. The tires squeal as I hit the road and spin the wheel hard to straighten. I’ve a moment when I pause to shift into drive where I think that Dex would be proud of that move. I hit the gas, and the tires spin for a second before they catch traction. I need to find Dex. If the stalker is going after people I love, Dex’s going to be a prime target.
I drive the neighborhood but don’t spot him. Maybe he went home? Maybe he needed to paint out the frustration, or something. This is pointless. But it’s better than sitting still, waiting for a phone call that he’s dead. I’m sick with the idea that I’ll relive the agony of losing another loved one.
It’s pretty clear to me at this point that my suicide theory isn’t holding water against the weight of Marcus’s death. I shiver at the thought that he meant to get Holly, but it’s clear to me that he’s got no problem killing. How could the weight of my guilt have kept me blinded for so long?
I merge from Mopac onto 290, then take the South Lamar exit to get back to our side of town. My eyes are tracking every motorcycle on the road, but I don’t see him.
I’m approaching Oltorf, trying to decide if I want to take a right and see if he went to his father’s gym, which is a block away, or head straight to his home. The light is red, so it gives me time to contemplate—
Wham!
My head bounces off the steering wheel as I’m shoved into the intersection by a car that just hit me from behind. Fuck, that’s just what I needed—to waste time with a car wreck.
Crash.
The rain of glass makes a tinkling sound. Or maybe that’s just my imagination. My ears could be ringing, but it seems to syncopate with the glitter of the glass as it catches the fading sunlight. Everything moves in slow motion as my body is suspended by the sudden change in movement.
A truck’s grill now takes up what used to be half of my car, the heat radiating off it catches my attention first. If I reach out, I could touch it. My head is half hanging out the window. I’m hanging onto consciousness by a thread when I see the man from the truck get out. He leans into the missing window to ask if I’m okay. I can feel the trickle of blood down my face.
This is bad. Really bad. Because I’ve no way of knowing how extensive my injuries are. I feel uncomfortable pressure. I don’t know what to say but I’m not sure I could answer him if I had the words. The guy accepts my silence, but when he stands, I see the man from the car that rear-ended me.
My mouth tries to form the words, to emit a sound, but nothing comes out. It’s in that infinite moment that I realize I know the guy from the car.
Blake is dialing his phone when the other man approaches him. My mouth is open to say something, and I gasp for air to produce a sound when I realize my mouth is covered. Smell—sickly sweet—invades my nose. I'm being pulled back through the open space that used to be the driver's-side window of my car. My body refuses to cooperate, to fight back.
I choke on the noxious fumes, knowing that this is it. My stalker has finally come for me. I can’t fight it—him. And the last fleeting thought through my mind before everything fades to black—I’m glad he got me because at least now I know everyone else is safe. Dex is safe.
Then
Jared’s truck was in the parking lot of the recording studio when we pulled up. Asher pulled in alongside it. I could feel it immediately—something was off. Even as I opened the door, the fog swirling with the movement, and heard the piercing wail of the building’s alarm, I felt it—this gut-wrenching sense of apprehension.
Shutting the truck door, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the reckoning that was about to happen. The moist air filled my lungs. It felt as heavy as my heart, the leaden weight of the lump in my belly. How did we get to this point? How did we get so fucked up?
I couldn’t see more than a couple of feet in front of my face, but the flashing red lights of the alarm colored the fog between me and the building, showing the way.
Asher joined me once we reached the sidewalk leading to the building, but stayed silent.
Step by step on shaky legs, I moved closer. Closer to the love of my life. Closer to facing the consequence of my decisions. Shattered glass crunched under my borrowed shoes as I reached the front door that was no more than a metal frame. Someone had broken through it.
“You sure you want to do this?” Asher asked.
I took in a shaky breath to steel my nerves. “Yeah. If it was a burglar, they’re likely gone. And Jared is in there. I need to see him. Make sure he’s okay.”
Asher nodded, frowning, and stepped through the empty doorframe.
I followed, the deafening sound of the alarm increased tenfold once we were inside. I rushed to the panel behind the reception desk to shut it off. Though, my ears still rang with echoes of the alarm in the ensuing silence. The lights weren’t turned on, just the standby lighting that was left on during the night, a dim bulb placed every thirty feet or so. Shadows danced in between. My nerves ratcheted up at the thought that anyone could be here, and maybe it was stupid of us not to wait for the police.
“Jared?” I called. No answer. I looked over at Asher, who mostly seemed to be studying the ground. “You take the offices, I’ll go look back in the studios.”
He nodded and turned down the hallway, his movement quicker than I expected.
I took a right, to the doorway that led to the old building where the recording studios were. Everything looked normal, perfectly in place, not like someone had broken in to vandalize or steal anything. And this would be the area a robber or vandal would go to, with thousands of dollars of equipment lying around.
I walked back farther to the second studio, and still nothing. The lights weren’t even on back there. I fumbled in the dark for the light switch. Again, nothing seemed out of place. My stomach twisted in knots.
“Jared? It’s me. Can we talk? I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m so sorry,” I asked the empty room as if he was just hiding.
I blinked furiously against the tears building in my eyes, fighting back the jagged unease that felt like it was expanding inside of me, ready to rip me to shreds from the inside out. I knew. I just knew something bad had happened, and I warred with the panic of finding out just as strongly as the compulsion to know the truth.
I shut the lights off, intent on heading back toward the offices to see if Asher had found him when I walked past the crash pad. Why didn’t I think to look in there? Of course he would come here for a place to stay—we had beds.
The door creaked as I pushed it open. It was dark, the new moon outside not offering any light through the window.
“Jared? You in here?”
The door jammed against something, but I couldn’t see what it was. I felt along the wall for the light switch. When the fluorescent lights flickered on, I realized it was Jared’s boot that was behind the door. He was lying across the floor on his stomach, his head turned away.
I dropped to my knees and crawled across the floor to his side, shaking his shoulder.
“Wake up, Jared.”
He didn’t move. I pulled his opposite shoulder until he rolled over, and his head lolled into my lap. I leaned down and kissed his blue-tinged lips. Tears poured down my face, and there was a distant keening wail.
“Wake up, Jare. I didn’t mean it.”
I brushed his hair off his forehead. His normally crystalline blue wolflike eyes were cloudy, dull and lifeless.
“You can’t leave me,” I cooed. “We’re running away to the beach together, remember? I was thinking Bali. Does Bali sound good? Please wake up. I love you. I love you so much, Jared.”
I rocked him, stroking his hair.
“I didn’t mean any of it. We’ll get you some help. We’ll fix this. It’s you, Jared. It’s always been you. You’re it for me. You can’t leave me.”
Asher skidded around the doorframe and froze. A loud sob released from him as he took in the sight of us. “Maddie, stop touching him,” he begged.
“I can’t.” I squeezed Jared tighter to me. “I gotta wake him up. We’re going to run away and get married in Bali, Asher. Did you know that? We’re planning to go after we finished the tour. Just something small and private. I—I’m not going to wear shoes, so I can feel the sand between my toes as we say ‘I do.’”
Tears streamed from his eyes as he looked at me with such deep sorrow. “Oh God, Maddie. Come here.”
Asher held open his arms, and I shook my head, clinging to Jared even tighter.
“I can’t. He’s going to wake up. I gotta wake him up, Ash. I can’t live—I don’t want to—he needs to be okay. The police will be here soon; they’ll get an ambulance and take him to the hospital.”
The light from flashlights bounced around the darkened hallway behind Asher. Murmured voices echoed as someone approached. Two police officers rounded the corner with guns raised. They started shouting, and Asher talked to them.
I sang my song I wrote for him into his ear, tuning out the commotion.
Is this the end,
of what I knew?
Is this the end,
of what we used to be?
One of the policemen hooked his hand under my arms and tugged on me. I hugged Jared tighter and kissed his forehead.
“No, I can’t leave him. He’s going to wake up. We’re going to Bali to get married soon. I can’t just leave him here.” I looked up at the officer, pleading with him.
“Ma’am, you’re contaminating a crime scene. I need you to leave the room, now.”
“Crime scene?” I asked.
“Maddie, come on,” Asher coaxed. “Come with me outside. We’ve got to let them do their jobs. It’s going to be okay.”
“Where’s the EMTs? We need to get him to a hospital. They can help him. He has to get better. He said he’d never leave me again.”
Asher pulled me out from under Jared’s body and picked me up, carrying me from the room.
Something about leaving the room, the change of the texture of the air without the laden coppery smell of blood, or that I knew I had left him back there, alone with strangers—the tears finally broke free. I wailed into Asher’s shoulder as reality came crashing into me. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t breathe. What would I tell the girls? This couldn’t be happening. I wanted to go back to denying it. I pulled away from Asher’s shoulder and realized I was covered in blood—Jared’s blood. Why didn’t I see that before?
Asher set me on the couch in the old part of the studio. He sat down next to me and pulled me to him and cried with me. I don’t know how long we did that, when a police officer approached.
The officer bent down into my line of vision. “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to stand and turn away from me. And place your hands behind your back.”
“What? Why?”
“I need to take you downtown for questioning.” His tone was wooden and matter-of-fact.
I looked to Asher, hoping he would rescue me somehow.
Asher nodded to me. “Just do it, Maddie. I’m calling Bridget. They can’t hold you for long. You didn’t do this.”
I felt numb as the cold handcuffs slid over my wrists. The officer led me outside to a waiting police car. Along the street, news crews and photographers gathered. They went into a frenzy of shouting questions and camera flashes. I blinked, unable to comprehend what was happening as the officer placed his hand on top of my head and pushed me into the backseat of the squad car.