I shut the door behind me and stifled an infuriated scream.
What the hell was he up to? Spying? Hacking? Secret early morning pickups by men in black Beemers?
The black-hat antics were one thing. But his nonchalant attitude made me want to claw his eyes out. “I should call the cops,” I said out loud to the empty house. “He’s up to something and it isn’t good.”
The sting of his betrayal, of his outright manipulation, was still ricocheting through my body a week later.
I hated that he knew.
Not about the bruises or the fact they weren’t the first ones I’d tried to keep hidden.
I hated that he knew I hadn’t been enough.
That my adoration, devotion and tolerance for pain still wasn’t enough to keep my man faithful.
It was humiliating. And it was even more humiliating when I remembered how I’d thrown myself at Derek at the falls.
He’d pulled back, claiming it was because he’d wronged me.
But what if he’d realized I wasn’t worth it?
What did that say about me?
Was I that impossible to love?
I’d thought I was loved, once. I thought the screaming fights proved our passion. I thought the force of Killian’s anger proved the force of his love.
And withstanding his anger proved the force of mine.
To find out that I was wrong… that his anger proved nothing… that his violence came from disdain, not adoration… that I’d endured it for nothing.
That broke me.
But when I found out that Derek knew before me… Derek, who I’d believed when he said I was safe with him…
I wasn’t broken. I was enraged.
I wanted him gone.
I’d called a lawyer, searching for loophole in my Grandpa’s will that would allow me to throw him out of the carriage house. But the law was not on my side.
But if he was doing something illegal…
Then it would be.
I realized I was chewing on my nails, pulled my hand away, then remembered I didn’t have to hide my bad habits any more and chomped down in earnest.
If I could find out what Derek was really up to - why he was really hiding up here - and expose his crimes, then I could be rid of him once and for all.
Was that what I wanted?
Part of me was so angry that I relished the thought of him being led away in handcuffs.
But the other part - the part that still felt foreign to me - wondered just how happy I could be without him.
Hours later, I still hadn’t come to a decision.
I was saved from pacing a hole in the carpet by the buzzing of my text message alert.
Thanks to Derek, I no longer feared what I would see on the screen. I rushed over to it eagerly.
Xavier: What the hell kind of question is that?
I grinned. This morning I’d left him a voicemail letting him know I was in town and did he want to get together? I figured he’d make me stew a few days, that he’d have too much going on in his busy life to be interrupted by his terrible friend.
Me: Does that mean you want to see me?
Xavier: You say you’re in town? Then I should be looking at you right now
Maybe he didn’t have too much going on. Or think I was a terrible friend.
I glanced out the window again, searching the carriage house for any clue about Derek’s crimes.
I was going crazy. I needed to get out of here.
Me: Whenever is good
Xavier: Now is good
A delighted squeal squeaked past my lips.
Me: Really?
Xavier: I’m buried under contractors and I can’t get away. But if you get your ass over here right now, I promise to feed you.
Me: Brunch?
Xavier: Is there any other meal?
Me: Should I bring something?
Xavier: Charlie Hunnam and a bottle of baby oil, but if you can’t get your hands on that quick enough, that your own fine self is perfect. Hurry up, Kitten
I grabbed my bag and rushed out the door.
Xavier Tully was flamboyant, sarcastic and my saving grace growing up. We bonded over a shared love of all things dramatic, spending hours telling each other all of the great things we were going to do once we broke free of this “hellhole.” We’d spend hours together, hashing out our detailed plans for fame and fortune.
“For sure you’ll be famous,” he’d say as he used eyelash glue to carefully attach a line of sequins under my brow bone. “I mean, how could you not be?”
“I know, right?” I’d preen. Then we’d use black Sharpies to color in our fingernails and listen to our favorite songs on repeat until his mom showed up in the station wagon to take him home. He’d call me as soon as he walked in the door, and we’d stay connected that way until one or both of us fell asleep.
He’d been the most important person in my life. And then we went to that concert and I met Killian and I never saw him again.
Would he even recognize me? Would I recognize him?
As I sat behind the wheel of my crappy little hatchback, I nearly let those worries drive me back into the house. The old Abbott place was on the eastern ridge, after all. Violet’s accident had happened on the highway two miles south of there. My parents never drove the eastern ridge roads for that reason, so I never had either. Plus the sky was getting grayer and grayer. Fat clouds sat on the horizon, heavy with the promise of snow.
Maybe it would be better if I didn’t go.
Before that thought could grip me tighter, I turned the key. I couldn’t let fear take hold. I had to keep moving. First, I had to ease down the driveway. Then I just had to keep going.
I glanced mournfully back up the drive to the carriage house. Then swore at myself.
I wasn’t scared. I could do this.
I didn’t need Derek.
Right?
As quickly as I thought that, I remembered that the only reason I’d contacted Xavier was because Derek made it possible for me.
How did he make me feel so safe and yet horribly vulnerable all at the same time?
He’d sent that email. I still hated him for it. But if he hadn’t where would I be now?
Not driving myself along the twisting highways to visit my best friend. Not writing music on my grandfather’s piano. Not waking with the sun, wearing my hair the way I liked or biting my nails without worrying about getting yelled at.
No, I’d be with Killian, trying to convince myself that today would be different. And then, when it inevitably wasn’t, I’d lie awake next to him and try to convince myself that I was leaving tomorrow.
If Derek hadn’t sent that email, nothing would have changed.
I would have never broken free.
I stopped at a red light and glanced in the rear-view mirror. My eyes were shining, bright with fear and excitement. My cheeks were flushed, in anger but also with daring.
I barely recognized myself, but I looked an awful lot like the girl I remembered. The girl I was trying to be again.
When I pulled up in front of the Abbott House, the front door swung open immediately.
I stepped out of the car and met the eyes of my best friend.
“Hi,” I said shyly. “Remember me?”