Katie
“Goodnight, Jake!” I call out.
“Yeah, night, Katie,” his voice drifts out of the back.
It was a slow night – the bar was cleared out by ten – so we closed up early. Marv doesn’t care since it'll save him some money – and if there’s one thing Marv cares about, it’s cutting costs. I head out the back door, and close it behind me, making sure it's locked. Jake still has a couple of hours of work left to do. And, depending on how things are with his girl, he may be sleeping there tonight. Wouldn't be the first time. Marv even went to the trouble of sticking a cot in the supply room for such occasions.
The back lot is empty, save for my car, and Jake's. I imagine the front is the same way. Ashton Mill is a ghost town tonight. Not that it's ever all that lively and hopping, but most nights, there are some good ol' boys in the bar, drinking until at least midnight. Not tonight, though. For whatever reason, everybody decided to take the night off.
Which is fine. I'm tired and ready to go home anyway. I’m standing beside my car, fishing my keys out of my purse, when an ominous feeling suddenly washes over me. I look up and feel the blood in my veins turn to ice. Someone is standing at the edge of the parking lot, not fifty yards from me. They must have stepped out from the bushes when I came out of the bar.
Whoever it is, they're wearing a bulky black coat – I can't tell if it's a man or a woman – and a clown mask. A damn clown mask. Ugh. I hate clowns. Always have. They're creepy as hell. Whoever it is, they’re standing directly beneath one of the light poles in the lot, so it's obvious they want to be seen. They're standing there motionless. Just staring at me.
“What?” I call out. “You got something to say to me?”
As unobtrusively as I can, I slip the canister of pepper spray out of my bag and hold it down at my side. I have no idea who it is, or what they're up to, but I want to be prepared.
“If you've got business with me, say it now,” I call out. “Otherwise, I'm leaving.”
As I look at the creepy figure standing there, part of me starts to wonder if it's Leon. Wondering if he's trying to screw with me because Aidan humiliated him in front of everybody. That's probably it.
“Yeah, okay, Leon,” I call. “Nice try. Cut the crap now.”
The figure continues to stand there, silently staring at me, until I’m consumed by a primal fear. I don't know why, but my heart starts to pound, and my palms start to sweat, as I stare back. I'm suddenly filled with a deep and profound sense of dread that's pushing toward panic.
Clown-person raises their hand and wiggles their fingers at me, waving. I don't know what it is about that gesture, small and innocuous as it is – but, coupled with the silence – it creeps me the hell out. I jam my key into the lock and rip my door open. Never taking my eyes off the clown, I jump in, slam the door behind me, and lock it.
The entire time, the figure never moves. They just stand there, head cocked, watching me.
Firing up my engine, my tires squeal as I roar out of the parking lot. It's not until I'm on the road, putting the parking lot and that fucking clown behind me, that I start to relax. I grip the wheel and check the rearview mirror almost constantly. As creepy as the clown-man is, I really doubt there's any way he would have been able to keep up with me, with as fast as I'm driving.
I have to force myself to slow down a bit, just to avoid drawing the attention of Sheriff Keller or one of his men. I don't think telling them about some creepy clown standing in the parking lot would get me out of a ticket. Once they finish laughing at me, they'll probably tell me it's nothing more than a couple of kids pulling a little prank, and that I should lighten up a bit.
A nervous chuckle escapes me, and I loosen my white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. Yeah, it probably was nothing more than some stupid kid pulling one over on me. And I'm gullible enough to fall for it. The more distance I put between myself and the bar, the more likely that seems.
“Fucking kids,” I mutter. Don't get me wrong, I love a good scare prank. Love feeling that rush of adrenaline you get when somebody genuinely scares the hell out of you.
But, sometimes, some people go way too far with a prank. They take way too much license with the creepiness.
Like that idiot in the parking lot.
I sigh and shake my head, starting to feel a bit better about it all as I drive on. I just want to get home and unwind.
* * *
I'm sitting on the rim of the tub, hunched over, looking at the small plastic device in my hand. One small piece of plastic that can change my entire life. Turn it completely upside down.
I haven't been feeling well lately. My period is also over a week late... Something is definitely not right – or at least not normal – inside of me. I know it's unlikely that I'm actually pregnant – I mean, I was with Aidan once, and we used protection. So, I really doubt it's that.
So, just to rule it out, and put my mind at ease, I decided to take a pregnancy test anyway. Just in case. I don't expect to really get any answers from it. I'm sure it's a flu coming on or something. I usually get sick when the cold weather starts to set in. I'm sure it's nothing more than that. Nothing more than something a little rest and some over-the-counter meds won't fix.
Still, there's a flutter in my stomach, and my head is wracked with anxiety. I'm sure it's the flu, but I can't believe this is happening, and that I've even put myself in a position where I'm entertaining the notion I could be pregnant. As remote as the chance is, I still can't fucking believe it. How did I get here? How did this happen to me?
Or more specifically, how did I let this happen?
I let myself be overwhelmed by him, that's how. I fell under his magic spell, his charm, or whatever the hell it is. Aidan has this hold over me that I can't deny. I feel powerless in the face of it.
I mean, I can't say I didn't want what happened. He gave me plenty of outs. But, it was too late at that point. I was hooked and wanted more. It was my fault that I let my feelings get in the way. I let my heart override my head. Or more specifically, let my most intimate parts override my head. I wanted it. I would never say otherwise.
And now, I may be paying a big price for that temporary weakness. For that temporary insanity.
Fuck.
As I think back to that day, I can't help but remember how amazing it had been to be with him. To have him inside of me. The memories make my entire body tingle and hum with erotic electricity.
Until I remember how everything went after we were done, at least. It was like he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough. Aidan got what he wanted, and he was done. It was time for me to go.
It made me feel so utterly cheap and used. So dirty. When I was getting to know him at the bar – and even sitting out in his backyard – I let myself believe he was different. That he wasn't the kind of guy who would treat a woman like a piece of tissue – to use, then throw them away.
It's been about a month since that day, and Aidan hasn't tried to contact me once. Not once. Not a phone call, letter on a carrier pigeon, no smoke signal – nothing. Nothing but a big freeze. The coward hasn't even set foot in the bar in a month. Which makes it pretty damn clear where his head is at, and where I fit in the grand scheme of things in his head – I don't. Obviously.
It makes me feel even worse that I opened up to him. Shared what I've been through, and some of my most intimate details. And then he ghosts me. Straight ghosts me.
I feel like an idiot for actually letting myself believe he could be different. Letting myself believe that he was different. I've never felt as low, and as stupid, as I do right now.
“I'm such an idiot,” I groan. “Such a damn fool.”
Still praying it's nothing more than the flu, I look down at the stick in my hand – the stick that will determine the course of my life from now on. And when I see the result of the pregnancy test, my heart sinks. A gaping pit opens up in my stomach, and the tears begin to fall.
I’m pregnant. I'm pregnant with Aidan Anderson's child.
Jesus Christ. What am I going to do?
* * *
Later on, I'm relaxing on the couch – or at least, trying to – with a little mindless television. It's tuned to something I’m not actually interested in because it's only on for background noise. I'm trying my best to distract myself.
My mind is elsewhere. Obviously, I'm a little consumed and preoccupied with my pregnancy. I'm doing my best to ignore the situation while simultaneously trying to figure out what to do about it. It's a neat trick, but I'm not pulling it off very well. I want to hate Aidan. I want to despise him. But, I can't. Not even after everything he's done. My heart will not allow me to do it. Am I angry? Absolutely. But, I can't hate him, no matter how hard I try. I see him for what he is – damaged, just like me.
Perhaps that's why I'm more forgiving and tolerant of him. Aidan's wounded and carries his hurts buried deep down inside, just like me. We relate to each other so well in that respect, and I'm not going to question it.
I know I shouldn't let myself have these feelings for Aidan. Not only am I not in a good place, but he also didn't seem interested in me at all. At least, not after he fucked me. The way that whole scene ended, as mind-blowing as the sex was, showed me that he's more interested in getting off than an actual relationship. He just wants to fuck me, not be with me.
I know this, and yet, I can't deny feeling this almost irresistible pull toward him. There is something about him that seems to call to me. Almost like we fit together – like two halves that make up a whole. It's like his darkness matches my own in some way. We're two wounded souls that see something within each other we recognize and are drawn to.
I don't know. Maybe I'm overthinking the whole damn thing. It could be as simple as Jessa being right about me having a crush on the guy, but he sees me as nothing more than a piece of ass. Given the way things ended between us that afternoon, that explanation would make a lot more sense.
Who knows?
All I do know is that I'm pregnant with his child. I need to have a conversation with him about it. Sooner than later. I just don't know how to go about it. I don't even know where to begin. And the mere thought of it terrifies me. It scares me almost as much as Victor did.
I take a sip of my green tea and set the mug down on the coffee table, curling up on my side on the couch as whatever stupid show is on continues playing on the TV. My eyes are growing heavy, and I yawn. It's not long before images of Aidan fill my head once more, and the comforting darkness of sleep beckons me. It pulls me closer and starts to wrap me in its warm embrace as I begin to drift off.
The ringing of my cell phone pulls me back from the brink of sleep, though. I shake my head and sit up, snatching my phone off the table. I connect the call, figuring it's Jessa checking in with me or telling me she's staying out tonight. I stifle a yawn and press the phone to my ear.
“Well it's about time,” I say. “I've been wondering where you are.”
There is nothing but silence on the other end of the line. Nobody speaks. All I can hear is breathing. Immediately, my mind flashes back to the clown in the parking lot, and a chill sweeps through me like Arctic wind out on the tundra. I have no idea how they would have my number, though. I can count the number of people who have it on one hand.
“Who is this?” I say, cringing at the small tremor in my voice.
It's then I hear a whispered voice, and it nearly stops my heart. Whoever it is, whispers my name in a dry, scratchy voice I don't recognize. They just whisper my name over and over, “Katie, Katie, Katie...”
I disconnect the call quickly and feel twin threads of revulsion and fear winding themselves around my heart. It's just a prank, right? Nothing more than a stupid practical joke, taken too far. Like the guy in the parking lot. It's just a stupid prank.
The phone rings in my hand again, and this time, I look at the caller ID and see that it's an unknown number. I know I should let it go to voicemail. I should ignore it and not take the call. So, when I punch the button connecting it – and then hold it to my ear – I want to punch myself in the face repeatedly.
I press the phone to my ear but say nothing. There's silence on the other end of the line again. It's oppressive. Suffocating. Frightening.
“What do you want?” I finally say, unable to take the silence anymore.
The caller says nothing, letting this little game drag on another thirty seconds, which only ratchets my tension up even further. My shoulders are tight, and a yawning chasm in my belly threatening to swallow me whole. I'm starting to feel like I might hyperventilate, and know I need to get off the line to stop it from happening. I'm about to hang up when he finally speaks.
“I've missed you, baby.”
The moment I hear his voice, I feel like I've been dunked in a pool of ice water. My entire body is freezing, and I feel myself start to tremble as my heart thunders in my chest.
“Don't you have anything to say to me?” Victor says smoothly.
“H – h – how did you get this number?” I finally manage to ask.
“Why did you leave me, Katie?” he asks. “We had such a good thing going.”
His voice is calm and smooth. He sounds very in control of himself. Behind his words, however, I can hear the hard, brittle edge. Victor is not a man who likes being shown up. And between what happened at the little impromptu party the night I left, and the violent way I escaped from him, I have no doubt that he's harboring a grudge. Victor isn't one who lets things go. Be it a day, a month, or even a year later, Victor will always seek revenge. He believes in punishing those who have wronged him.
“H - how did you get this number?” I ask, a little more forcefully, though I'm unable to keep the tremor completely out of my voice.
“Aww,” he says, his tone mocking. “Is that all you have to say to me after all this time, baby? After you left me for dead?”
“I knew you weren't dead,” I hiss.
“Tell me you miss me,” he says.
“Go to hell.”
“Sure,” he says. “I'll meet you there.”
Tears well in my eyes, and my heart is gripped with an ice-cold fear unlike anything I've ever known before. I know I should hang up, but I can't seem to do it. It's like his voice has some magical power or hypnotic hold on me. No matter how hard I try, no matter how fiercely my heart races, or how badly my hand trembles, I can't seem to pry the damn phone away from my ear.
“W – what do you want, Victor?”
“Same thing I always wanted, babe. You,” he says. “I want you to come home so we can have a life together. I miss you.”
“No,” I say. “I'm not going back. Ever.”
I have no doubt he wants me to come back home, but I highly doubt it's so we can start over. I can hear it in his voice – something sinister is lurking behind his words.
“Come on, babe,” he says smoothly. “We can start over. Clean slate for the both of us. I'll even forgive you for hitting me with the baseball bat –”
“Wow, how magnanimous of you,” I snap.
“Mag – what?”
“Forget it,” I say, feeling good at the sudden steel in my voice. “Get this through your head, Victor. I'm never coming back. We're over. Done. Have been for a while now. It’s time to move on.”
“Don't be like that, Katie,” he says. “I'm willing to give you another chance here.”
“Give me another cha –” I bite off my words and let out a long breath. “I'm hanging up now. Don't call this number again or I swear to god, I'll have it changed.”
“I'll just get your new one,” he says. “I know people. People who can find you, Katie.”
His words freeze my heart in place. People who can find me? He can't – no – that's not possible. My name isn't on any of the bills here, for obvious reasons. There's no real record of me existing anywhere. How in the hell could they find…
Oh shit. My employment records. Had Victor tracked me down through my employment records? He can barely operate a computer, though. And none of his boys are smart enough to be that computer literate. How could he have possibly hacked the databases necessary to find me through my employment records?
“Leave me alone, Victor.”
“I can't do that,” he says. “You're mine. You belong to me. Come home, Katie.”
“I'm hanging up now.”
“Last chance.”
“Move on with your life,” I say, hopefully sounding more confident than I feel. “Leave me alone.”
“I'll see you soon, babe,” he says with an ominous little chuckle. “Real soon.”
I disconnect the call and drop the phone on the couch, my heart racing and my head spinning. I jump up and start to pace the front room, doing my best to stave off a panic attack that seems bound and determined to take hold of me. I can't afford that right now. No, right now, I need to think clearly. I need to keep my head on straight and my shit together.
He said he'd see me soon – does that mean he already knows where I live? Is he in Ashton Mill?
I run around the house, turning off all the lights, plunging myself into darkness. My body hums with a panic-fueled energy as I stand beside the windows at the front of the house, searching for some sign of Victor in the darkness outside. I don't see him, but that doesn't mean he's not out there. He knows my phone number. He implied that he knows where to find me.
I can honestly say I've never been this terrified in my life.
Darting into the kitchen, I grab one of the large knives out of the butcher's block and carry it with me as I start to pace again. I walk the house in darkness, straining to hear any sound, racking my brain, and trying to figure out what my next course of action should be. Should I call the police? If I do, what will I tell them? That my abusive ex-boyfriend called and said – what exactly? He didn't explicitly threaten me or anything. I mean, I doubt there's anything they could – or would – do. Hell, I don't even know if he's anywhere near Ashton Mill. He could still be back in Atlanta for all I know and is just calling to screw with me.
I want to believe that, but the paranoid, scared part of my brain tells me that’s not true. A small voice in the back of my mind tells me that Victor is here. That he's coming for me – that he’s going to kill me. And my baby.
The banging on the front door is sharp, and in that small space, it sounds almost like a series of small explosions going off. The sudden noise in the practically silent house makes me shriek and just about drop the knife. My heart is slamming so hard in my chest, I feel lightheaded – like I'm on the verge of passing out.
“Katie? Are you okay?” Jessa shouts through the door. “What's going on? Open up.”
I let out a long, shaky breath as relief floods my body. It's muffled through the thick wooden door, but it's definitely Jessa. Jessa is knocking on the front door. Not Victor. I repeat that to myself several times as I cross the room and peek out the peephole – just to be sure.
It’s Jessa. Thank god.
I quickly unbolt the door and yank it open. She comes inside, and I quickly close the door behind her, throwing all the locks and making sure the house is secure.
“I forgot my house keys,” she explains. “Are you okay? I thought I heard you screaming... And why is it so dark in here?”
I nod but don't say anything as I move to check out the windows again. I can feel Jessa's eyes on me, following me around the room. I give a start when she turns on a light, flooding the room in illumination, and I fight the urge to run over and turn it off again. I see her eyes focus on the blade in my hand.
“Umm... what's with the knife, Katie?” she finally asks.
I turn to her and feel my eyes burning with unshed tears. She crosses the room and gently takes the knife from me, setting it down on the table. I let her lead me back to the couch where she sits me down and hands me the mug of tea I'd left sitting there, barely touched. My hand is trembling so hard, I'm sloshing tea all over myself, so I just hand it back to her.
Jessa takes the mug from me and sets it down on the table. Taking both of my hands in hers, she looks me in the eye, her face etched with concern – and unspoken questions.
“What's going on, Katie?”
I look at her, drawing in a long, shuddering breath, and let it out slowly as I try to regain control of myself. As I try to slow my racing heart and clear my terrified and chaotic mind – I find that I’m not doing a very good job of it. I open my mouth to speak several times but can't force the words out of my throat. All that comes out are stuttering, choked gasps.
“It's okay,” she says, her voice soft and soothing. “Take a deep breath and take your time.”
I nod and do as she says, blowing a long breath out through my pursed lips. I close my eyes and repeat it several times. Slowly, I begin to calm down – slightly. Enough to communicate coherently, anyway.
“He found me, Jessa,” I say softly, feeling a lone tear racing down my cheek.
“Victor?” she asks.
I nod. “He called me.”
“When?” she asks, her face growing serious.
“Just a minute ago,” I reply. “Right before you got here.”
“Shit,” she says.
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
Giving my hands a gentle squeeze, she gives me a tight smile. “Tell me what he said,” she says. “All of it.”
I take a deep breath and launch into the story. I tell her everything about my conversation with Victor. As brief as it is, my story seems to go on for forever. And when I'm through, she lets out the breath she's been holding. Jessa pours herself a glass of wine and swallows half of it down before setting the glass back down on the coffee table.
“I don't know how he got your number,” she says, “but, I bet it's not too hard to track it down if you know someone good with computers. I think he got your number and is just playing head games with you.”
“He made it sound like he's going to show up any minute,” I say. “You don't know what he's capable of, Jessa. He's a monster.”
“If he was going to do that, would he call first?” she asks, a gentle smile on her face. “Would he tip you off that he knows where you are? Or, is it more likely that he would just show up and grab you one night?”
“I think he's already here, Jessa,” I say.
“What do you mean?”
I tell her about the clown outside the bar as the absolute fear of it all courses through me all over again. I open my mouth to speak, but she shakes her head and cuts me off.
“That was just Arnie Hollins,” she said. “He did that to a couple of people. Just stood there all creepy like. It was just a stupid kid, playing a stupid prank. He said he saw people doing it online and thought it would be funny.”
I look up at her, hopeful. “A – are you sure?”
She nods. “He freaked somebody out so bad, they took a shot at him,” she says. “Hit him in the leg. The last thing you want is to pull something stupid like that in a town that believes in the Second Amendment as much as Ashton Mill.”
“They shot him?”
She nods again. “Yeah,” she says. “Sheriff Keller was called, and it was a big to-do. Kid's lucky it was only his leg. He's in the hospital now, might be charged with something, I don't know.”
“S – so, it wasn't Victor,” I say, a statement, not a question.
She shakes her head. “No, it wasn't Victor,” she says. “Which brings me back to my point that he probably knows someone good with computers and was able to pull up your cell phone number. He’s just screwing with you. Don't let him get inside your head. He lived there rent-free for way too long.”
I let out a breath and pour myself a glass of wine, but it suddenly hits me that I'm pregnant, and can't be drinking anymore, so I hand the full glass to Jessa. She looks at me curiously for a moment but doesn't say anything. Hopefully, she just thinks I'm too rattled and am not thinking straight. At least she has the good graces to not question me.
Knowing that it was the Hollins kid and not Victor underneath that damn clown mask makes me feel better. A little bit, anyway. The fact that Victor has my phone number still has me rattled beyond belief.
Logically, I know Jessa is probably right. Even if Victor were in Ashton Mill, broadcasting his intentions to me wouldn't be his style. No, he would probably lay in wait, hiding in the shadows, and grab me when I least expected it. He probably wouldn't call to let me know he was coming.
Unless, he's a cocky asshole who thinks he can grab me anytime, anywhere. And what worries me most is that I know he's a cocky asshole. What I don't know though, is whether he thinks he can actually pull off a kidnapping. Whether or not he'd actually have the balls to try it. Because, if there's one thing I can guarantee, it's that I won't be taken without one hell of a fight.
But, it seems stupid now, given that it wasn't him in the clown mask but some stupid kid. It makes me feel better about the situation overall, but I'm still concerned about him tracking down my number. If he can do that, what else will he be able to do? I've done my best to leave as small of a footprint as possible, but now I'm concerned it wasn't small enough.
I sit back on the couch, feeling my stomach churning and rolling with worry. I'm well beyond scared at this point but try to focus on what's in front of me, rather than imagination and speculation.
But, even I have to admit, there's always a chance – regardless of how remote – that Jessa and I are wrong and that he knows where I am. And that he is coming for me.
“I should probably leave,” I say.
Jessa cocks her head and looks at me. “Leave? What do you mean?”
My stomach lurches harder as I look into the eyes of my best friend. “I mean, I should go somewhere else,” I say. “Far away.”
Jessa shakes her head. “What are you talking about, Kat?”
“I'm talking about leaving Ashton Mill,” I say. “Going somewhere he can't find me.”
She looks at me like I'd just grown a second head. “I don't understand.”
“If Victor knows where I am –”
“We don't know he does.”
“But, there's a chance he does,” I reply. “If he can find my phone number in some computer database, he might be able to figure out where I live too.”
She shrugs, but can't really refute the point, and says nothing. There's a chance, even if it's small. And that thought cuts me to the bone. I'm afraid not for my sake but for Jessa’s, who I love more than anybody else on this stinking planet.
“I'm afraid that if he does find out, he'll come for me,” I say. “And if he does, the last thing I want is for you to get caught up in it. If something happened to you because of me –”
Tears roll down my cheeks, and a choked sob bursts from my throat at the mere thought that something could happen to Jessa. That Victor would do something to her to get to me. I know if anything happened to her, I couldn't bear it.
“Nothing's going to happen to me, hon,” she says gently, squeezing my hand again. “I can take care of myself. Believe me.”
“Jessa, Victor is a monster. You don't know what he's capable of.”
“And he doesn't know what I'm capable of,” she replies. “I've taken plenty of self-defense classes, and I'm very good with this...”
She stands and goes to her purse, which is sitting on the table next to the door. She reaches in and fishes out a gun. I stare at the dull pistol wide-eyed. I've never seen it before. I didn’t even know she owned a gun.
“W – where did you get that?” I ask.
“It was a gift from my mom,” she says and laughs. “You know how some of the creeps around here are. Some of them are every bit the monster Victor is. Maybe worse. My mom dated a few of them. I used to have to sit and watch her get beat right in front of me.”
She looks down, and I see her eyes are shimmering with tears. A look of absolute despair mixed with rage crosses her face as she recalls the things she's seen. I jump to my feet and rush to her, wrapping her in a tight embrace.
Taking her hand, I lead her back to the couch and sit back down. Jessa sits with the gun in her lap, staring down at it thoughtfully. Mournfully. I have no doubt that memories of her mom and the torments she'd endured – torments Jessa had to witness – are rolling through her mind. I understand. Sometimes, I can't prevent memories of what Victor did to me from popping up in my head, and know how hard it is to scrub your mind of thoughts like those.
“Anyway,” Jessa says. “After she finally got rid of the last one, she enrolled us in self-defense classes and bought me the gun. She forced me to take lessons and train with it. She said she never wanted me to feel helpless in any situation. That she wanted me to be able to stand up for myself.”
“Oh god, Jessa,” I say. “I'm so sorry. I didn't know.”
Her smile is small, fragile, and I can see hints of the terrified little girl she once was. “I’ve never told anyone about it until now,” she says. “It was just one of our family's dirty little secrets.”
She wipes away the tears that roll down her face, and all I can do is hold her hand. I feel useless. Completely powerless to do anything to comfort her. After several moments of silence, she looks up at me. I see that look of rigid, inflexible determination she gets in her eyes when she's about to be stubborn as hell.
“I still think Victor is playing mind games with you, Katie,” she says. “That call was nothing more than a weak attempt to mindfuck you. You're stronger and smarter than he is. And, you're not going to let him win.”
I let out a long breath. “I can't take that risk,” I say, shaking my head. “Not with your life.”
“I'm not going to let you run, Katie,” she says. “I'm not going to let him do this to you. Not after you've worked so hard to get your shit together. You escaped from him once already, hon. Don't let him put you back in that cage of fear.”
“Jessa, I couldn't stand to think that something –”
“If he shows up here, I'll shoot him dead,” she says flatly and without emotion. “I'll be damned if I let him lay a finger on you. I promise you, if he turns up on our doorstep, he's a dead man.”
I want to take heart in her words. Want to feel inspired by them. But, at the end of the day, I'm still gambling with Jessa's life. Chances are, she's right. It was one phone call, meant to scare and intimidate me – mission accomplished on that front, by the way. But, what if we're wrong? What if he's out there right now? Watching? Waiting? What if he hurts my best friend to punish me?
“Promise me, you won't let him run you off again,” Jessa says, gripping my hand tighter.
“I – I –”
“Promise me, Katie,” she says, her voice harder than iron.
“I'm scared, Jessa.”
“That's why I'm going to teach you to use this gun,” she says. “I'm going to teach you self-defense. I'm going to teach you to protect yourself, so if – and it's a big if at this point – that motherfucker shows up, you can deal with him. You're done letting him run your life.”
There is so much passion and conviction in her voice that my heart swells and infuses me with a sudden and unexpected rush of confidence. One I don't particularly deserve to feel, to be honest. But, Jessa’s ferocity and confidence is bleeding over to me.
“In the very unlikely event Victor shows up on our doorstep,” Jessa says, holding my gaze firmly, “I'm going to make sure you're ready. But, I'm telling you, the chances of him actually showing up here are between slim and none. He doesn't have the balls to do it. Victor is a bully and a coward. Nothing more, nothing less.”
A small smile touches my lips. “I never knew you were such a badass, J.”
Jessa laughs, a wry smile on her face. “I can be,” she says. “Especially when someone threatens the person I love the most in this godforsaken world of ours.”
I squeeze her hand and lean forward, pulling her into a tight embrace. She hugs me back, and I find myself drawing strength and courage from her. Jessa is my rock, and I'm so unbelievably thankful for her. After a few seconds, I sit back and give her a small smile. My body still feels like it’s vibrating with fear, but I feel slightly better.
“We're going to get through this,” she says.
I want to believe she's right. That he's playing games and is just trying to screw with my head. Nothing more. Doubts continue to linger in my mind, though. Doubts and fears flow like snakes, writhing and wriggling around inside of me, wrapping themselves around my mind and heart, squeezing them tight.
The one thing she said that I know is unequivocally true, however, is that I’m still trapped in the cage of fear Victor forced me to live in for years. I stare down at the gun in Jessa's lap, admiring how the light glints off the dull, black matte steel.
At some point, I know I need to break free from this damn cage. I can't keep living like this – constantly afraid and always looking over my shoulder. That's not living. It’s barely existing.
As we sit there, Jessa cocks her head and looks at me curiously. I can see her mind working, and know she’s probably realized there's something important I'm not telling her. Jessa has always been able to read me like a book, and is one of the most intuitive people I've ever met.
I want to tell her, but I can't. I don't know how. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. She squeezes my hand again, trying to will her strength into me. I look up at her and feel my eyes stinging with tears. They roll slowly down my face, and I can't seem to stop them.
“It's okay, hon,” she says. “Everything is going to be okay. You'll see.”
“I don't think it is, though, J,” I finally manage to croak.
“You'll see,” she says. “Victor is eventually going to –”
“I'm pregnant,” I say.
My eyes widen, and my stomach churns at the blunt, simple phrase. Two small, simple words. Two words with the power to alter my life forever.
Jessa is staring at me with a look of stunned disbelief on her face. She blinks a couple of times, and opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, so she closes it again.
A long, awkward moment passes between us, neither of us seeming to know what to say. Eventually, Jessa gets her bearings again and turns her eyes to me.
“I know it can't be Victor's,” she says.
I shake my head. “No, it's Aidan's.”
A burst of laughter erupts from her throat. “Well, if you were going to get knocked up by someone, at least you picked pretty well.”
I stare at her with a deadpan expression. “So not funny.”
She bites back her laughter, a sheepish look crossing her face. “No, I guess not. Sorry.”
“I don’t know what I'm going to do, Jessa,” I moan.
“I don't suppose you've talked to Aidan about it yet?”
I shake my head. “I only just found out myself,” I say. “Right before Victor called. Which only adds another layer to this massive shit sandwich. If Victor finds out that I'm carrying somebody else's baby –”
I bury my face in my hands and start to sob. The stress and pressure are too much, and I feel like I'm starting to break. It feels like my entire world is crashing down over me, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
Jessa moves closer and wraps me up in a tight embrace. I cry against her shoulder as she strokes my hair and whispers soothing words to me. After a few minutes, my tears dry up, and I'm able to stop crying. I sit up and scrub my eyes with my hands. Fear is still churning violently within me, but Jessa reaches out to grab my hands, her gaze locked onto mine.
“It's going to be okay, Kat,” she says. “No matter what comes of this, we'll be okay. I'm going to be by your side the entire time. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you.”
I give her a grateful smile. I really don't know what would happen to me without Jessa. She gave me a safe place to go when my world started to fall apart. She's my savior. My rock. She's everything to me.
And now I fear that I'm putting her life in danger. I know she's a woman who is more than capable of defending herself, but she doesn't know Victor like I do. Doesn't understand his cruelty or his maliciousness. I fear for her life far more than I fear for my own.
Except now, I have to worry about the life of the child inside me, too.
“I don't know what to do, Jess,” I say. “I don't know how to even start trying to figure this mess out.”
“The first thing you need to do is talk with Aidan,” she says. “Tell him. He has a right to know.”
I shake my head miserably. “I haven't talked to him since we had sex that time,” I said. “He totally ghosted me, Jess.”
She cocks her head and gives me a curious look. “You guys only had sex once?”
I nod. “Yeah. Just that once. And we used a condom.”
She whistles low and chuckles ruefully. “Wow. Talk about lucky. I mean, who gets pregnant after having sex one time with someone? And after using a condom? Remind me to never ask you for lottery numbers. Or – maybe I should.”
I laugh despite myself. Jessa is obviously trying to lighten the mood. I can't help but hear the note of reality in her voice though. I mean, she's not wrong. The luck I have is shit. Like they say, if it weren’t for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all. I have sex with Aidan once – and even though we were completely safe about it – I still turn up pregnant? What the hell?
“You know,” she says. “Maybe this is fate, or the universe, or God, or whatever you want to call it, sending you a message.”
A wry grin touches my lips. “Yeah? And what message might that be?”
“That maybe, just maybe, you and Aidan are supposed to be together?”
I laugh so hard, it feels like I’ve pulled a muscle in my stomach. I put my hand over my belly and continue to laugh until it eventually fades away.
“How do you figure that?” I ask.
“Think about it, Kat,” she says. “What are the odds you get pregnant like that? I mean, seriously, what are the odds?”
She's not wrong, I mean, the odds have to be steep. But, it's not unheard of. And I'm not convinced this is some divine intervention telling me that Aidan and I are meant to be. I'm not a big believer in fate anyway, and this – regardless of the long odds – doesn't change that belief.
“Yeah well, the message I'm getting from Aidan is very different anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that it's been a month since we had sex,” I say. “And he hasn't contacted me once. He hasn't come into the bar, nothing. He's vanished.”
“He hasn't vanished,” Jessa says. “He's still hiding out up there on his mountain.”
“Yeah well, it doesn’t seem like he wants anything more to do with me after getting what he wanted. Couldn't wait to get me out the door,” I say. “And the fact that he hasn't made an effort to contact me since – I'd say that message is strong and clear.”
“Maybe,” Jessa says. “And yeah, ghosting you is a total asshole move. But, have you tried contacting him?”
“I shouldn't have to.”
“No, probably not,” she says. “But, it takes two to make a relationship work.”
“This isn't a relationship, J.”
“Not at present,” she says. “But, I can tell you kinda want it to be. I can see the way you light up when you talk about him.”
“That's fear, Jessa,' I say. “I'm pregnant with his kid, I have a psycho ex stalking me – one who will probably kill me if he finds out I'm carrying another man's baby – not that he's not going to kill me anyway, and I have no idea what I'm going to do about any of it.”
“One thing at a time, babe,” she says. “I'm talking about before all of this. You should have seen yourself whenever he walked into the bar. That glow around you would have lit up half of Ashton Mill. You were his long before you ever slept with him.”
I chuckle. “Shut up.”
“God's honest truth,” she says. “I'm not gonna lie about that.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn't matter,” I say. “He doesn't feel the same way.”
“He might, you don't know,” she presses. “You haven't asked him.”
“Isn't that his job? To make it known that he wants me?”
“And you call yourself a feminist,” she laughs. “What kind of bullshit damsel-in-distress thinking is that? You're a strong, independent, fierce woman, Katie. Sometimes, you have to fight for what you want. Sometimes, you have to step up.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I'm not quite that evolved.”
“Maybe it's time you learn to be,” she says. “From everything you've told me, he's an introvert. He barricades himself in that house up there and obviously lacks some normal social graces.”
“That's true.”
“Then maybe, what happened after you two banged, wasn't so much a matter of him wanting you out, or being done with you,” she says. “Maybe, it was a case of him not knowing what comes next. Ever stop to think about that?”
The truth of the matter is no, I hadn't stopped to think about it in those terms. That maybe, he was so taken aback by it all, that he didn't know what to do any more than I did.
“Look, all I'm saying is that more might be going on here than meets the eye,” she says. “Don't be so quick to judge. And you're going to have to talk to him about the baby anyway. So, as long as you're there, stand your ground and make your case. Fight for what you want, Katie.”
“What I want is for my psycho ex to disappear off the face of the planet,” I say, fear rippling through me. “If he finds out –”
“We'll cross that bridge if it comes to it,” she says. “We'll handle it. But, one thing at a time. And the first order of business is you talking to Aidan about the fact that you're carrying his baby.”
I sigh and lean back against the soft couch cushions. “You seem awfully invested in the idea of us being together.”
She shrugs. “Like I said, I saw the way he lights you up inside. It makes me happy for you, Katie,” she says. “I've never seen you genuinely happy, and it's a nice change of pace. I want to see more of it.”
I give her a smile and squeeze her hand. If it was only that easy.