Nowhere.
That’s where we fucking are.
This has been going on for fucking months, and we have goddamn nothing on where Aria is. She seems to have disappeared to where no one, not even Benny can get a lock on her, and then she shows back up like she was under our noses the whole damn time. And just when Lena and I get our marriage back on track. Perfect fucking timing to come in and fuck it all up again.
I slam my fist against the brick wall outside the police station, listening to the same stories over and over again.
“We don’t have anything.”
“She’s in the wind.”
“We’ll get her.”
I’m done fucking waiting around.
I’m done seeing the fear in my wife’s eyes.
I’m done lying to my daughter that everything is okay.
None of this is okay.
None of this should be happening.
The fact that we have to watch our every move is the fucking worst. We can’t live our lives peacefully. Even more is the fact that on my daughter’s birthday, she is woken up by her father yelling at her mother. It should have never happened. I shouldn’t have lost my cool, but if Aria hadn’t created this burden, I would have been in bed with my wife while our daughter slept in a high from the best birthday party she’d ever had.
We have to adjust our lives. It’s goddamn time Aria starts adjusting hers. This shit is getting fucking ridiculous.
“Lawson, you gotta calm down and stay focused.”
I jerk my head back to the sheriff standing in front of me. “Stay focused?” I repeat. “That’s all I am, John.”
“We’ll get—”
"Don't fucking tell me you'll get her. It's been goddamn weeks, and you haven't gotten anything more than you had before.”
“We aren’t equipped for these kinds of situations.”
“No? Then call in someone who is.”
“Now—”
I lift my hand, stopping him from uttering another word. “Call me when you actually have something.”
Once I’m back in my truck, I pull my phone out of my pocket and bring up Benny’s contact. He answers after the first ring.
“Yo.”
“She fucking hit our house again last night.”
“Fuck,” he growls into the phone.
“You got anything on her?”
“Yeah, I got the place she’s crashing at. Just about to call you. I got a couple guys who are gonna go in with me.”
“I want to be there,” I clip.
“Not sure that’s a good idea, man.”
I will fucking be there. I will be the man who takes this vile human being down. I may not be trained in shit like this, but I’m not stupid. I know how to use a gun. I know how to protect myself.
“I don’t care if it’s a good idea or not. When are you going in?”
He mutters a few curse words, then replies, “Dark. You gonna tell Selena about this?”
“Fuck no.”
More muttered curse words.
“We meet up and go in together, yeah?”
“Yeah. I gotta get back to Lena. Text me when you’re ready.”
He confirms, and we disconnect.
I put the truck in reverse and head back to my family with a vengeance I've never felt before running through my veins.
“I think we need to talk.”
“About what?” I ask Selena.
Since last night, we haven’t had a moment with just me and her. I knew this was coming. There are some things I haven't been clear on with her, and she's waited long enough for those answers.
“Well, for starters, you can explain to me why you didn’t tell me you had a gun.” I set the wrench down and turn to look at her standing in the door of the garage.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you worrying.”
Shitty excuse, yeah. But the only one she’s going to get.
“Don’t do this, Law. Don’t shut down on me now.”
I spin the stool around so I am facing her completely. “I’m not doing shit, Lena. I’m fucking protecting what is mine. I’m doing that in whatever way I see fit.”
She jerks her head up slightly in confirmation and crosses her arms over her chest in defiance.
“Okay, then tell me what really happened last night.”
“I already told you.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Yeah, you did, but I know you, Lawson. You aren’t telling me the whole story.”
“You doubting me?” It’s shitty to throw that in her face when a week ago I doubted her, but I have to get her off this goddamn subject.
I can’t tell her what I found on our porch last night.
I just can’t.
It’s fucking sick. It’s fucking morbid. Even the thought of it makes the bile start to rise in my throat.
It’s shit Selena would never come back from.
“Lawson,” she breathes in that goddamn voice. The one that crawls its way into my soul and cuts little slits throughout my entire body. I say nothing as she stands there waiting for me to respond, tears pooling in her eyes. I watch her dig her fingernails into her arm, the blatant wishing that I’m not doing exactly what I said I’d never do again.
“This is going to tear us apart,” she whispers. “She’s going to get what she wants.”
She spins around and runs from the shop door.
I haven’t learned my fucking lesson. I don’t run after her. What am I going to do? Promise her everything is okay for the millionth time? I’d probably be fucking lying. Do I show her the note? Do I show her the book?
I’m fucking helpless.
I stand up, kicking the stool backward. It slams into the tool box five feet behind me, and I pick up the last of the wrenches intending to put them away, but the anger burning inside has me launching them across the shop.
Just as I move to pick up an envelope that flew to the ground, my phone on the workbench rings. I grab up the envelope as Benny’s contact flashes on the display.