Terms + Conditions (Strangers #3)

Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THEN

September 2016

HER FINGERS INTERTWINE WITH mine over her shoulder as we walk through Forsyth Park, a huge green space smack dab in the middle of Savannah. After eating breakfast, Elizabeth dragged me out of the house to explore the city she loved so much. Every time I visit, we usually stick around the house, but I think she’s trying to keep her mind off the looming reminder of today. We spent most of the day on a hop-on-and-off trolley tour before eating lunch at The Olde Pink House—a literal pink house that has been around since the 1700s and is said to be haunted. Sadly, I didn’t run into any ghosts. I even went to the basement bathroom, but I walked out of the stall unscathed. Kind of wish something did happen, because I’d love to have a ghost story up my sleeve. Elizabeth hasn’t talked much today, locking herself in her head, but I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s been through.

“I’ve always wanted to get married here,” Elizabeth says, leading me down the main drag of the park toward the fountain. Local artists have set up periodically along the pathway, and there’s even a trumpeter playing a classic tune as locals enjoy the beautiful fall day. Some read books, others play with their dogs, a few people sketch, and even a handful doze in the September sun.

“Let’s do it.”

“We don’t—”

“Why not?” I don’t have anywhere I’ve ever dreamed of walking down the aisle. The least we can do is give her the opportunity to do this where she’s always wanted to. “Where else would we do it?”

“It’s where my parents met,” she says softly. “They spent their whole lives in Winchester, but they never knew each other.” We reach the fountain, and a small smile tugs on the corner of her red lips. “It wasn’t until my father came to Savannah to visit his grandmother that he met my momma, who just happened to be in town for her aunt’s wedding.”

I squeeze her hand gently, reassuringly, because I don’t know how else to respond. There’s nothing that seems appropriate in this moment. While I want her to feel comfortable enough to share the details of her parents with me, I don’t want to push her. She doesn’t have to talk about it if she doesn’t want to, but something tells me the more I learn about them, the more I’m going to learn about her.

“It doesn’t get any easier.” She sighs. “The scars may fade a little more every year, but it never gets any easier.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Elizabeth stares into the water of the fountain, contemplating, and I’m about to apologize for pushing when she says, “It was her birthday weekend. They were supposed to leave that afternoon to go to San Diego…”

But that didn’t happen. As she recounted the events from that night for the first time, my insides wove themselves into a tangled mess. I had never heard anything so horrific.

Elizabeth had come home four years ago from a football game to a seemingly normal house. The lights were off, and the doors were locked, nothing out of the ordinary, especially since her father had recently told Nate to pack his shit and leave. She dropped her keys in the basket on the counter and started the search for a snack, settling on a few spoonfuls of peanut butter. Her parents weren’t home; they’d never know. Her mother used to raise her brow and ask “Were you raised in a barn?” when she would eat straight from the jar. But what Momma didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

On the way to her bedroom with her peanut butter jar, Elizabeth noticed the light on in her father’s office.

She called for him but got no response. As she pushed open the door everything looked normal, she thought maybe he just forgot to turn the light off, but then she saw it…The crimson pool leaked from underneath her father’s oak desk. Behind the desk, she found her father lying in a pool of blood. She didn’t register her own scream until the jar of peanut butter landed on her foot, breaking the trance. She screamed for him, for help, but no one came.

Then she thought about her mother. Was she okay? Was she hiding somewhere? She rushed to her parents’ bedroom. Opening the door, she silently prayed her mother was just hiding in the closet or bathroom, but her knees gave out at the sight.

Her mother had been stabbed, the knife still sticking out of her abdomen, a pool of blood surrounding her. Elizabeth clung to her mother’s body, searching for any sign of life, but there was none. She tried to dial 9-1-1, the blood smearing across her phone screen with each attempt.

Then she heard a voice shouting, “Hello?” in the distance. The voice sounded a lot like her brother. What was her brother doing there? She thought their father had taken his key when he kicked Nate out last month. Scrambling to her feet, she ran down the hallway to the kitchen and found her brother rummaging through a cookie jar on the counter. “Nate, what are you—”

“Lizzie!” Nate practically jumped five feet in the air. “What the fuck?” His eyes widened at the sight of her—blood covered her arms and legs, soaking into the fabric of her cheer uniform.

“Nate, they’re dead,” she cried. Crossing the kitchen, she fell into his arms. “Momma and Papa, they’re dead.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said, but his tone turned cold, distant.

“We need to—we need to call the police,” she stammered and started to redial 9-1-1. She was so focused on trying to dial the emergency number that she didn’t notice her brother reaching for something on the counter.

“Don’t,” her brother commanded. When she continued, he swatted the phone from her hands sending it flying across the room. “Lizzie, do not call the police.”

When Elizabeth looked up from her empty hands, she saw a knife in his hand. When did he get that? Nate chuckled darkly, “You just had to fucking come home, didn’t you? You couldn’t stay at Nina’s like planned.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Shut up!”

Elizabeth’s feet cemented to the floor as he inched closer. Her mind yelled at her to run, but her body betrayed her. She begged her brother not to do something he would regret, but he wasn’t going to regret it because no one would know it was him. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had planned on her being gone, and now…Now she was home, and she’d seen too much. He didn’t have a choice. And if she was gone, he wouldn’t have to share with her. He’d get everything to himself.

Finally, her feet freed themselves from the paralyzing feeling, and she ran, but her brother was faster. Nate grabbed her ponytail and used it to smash her face into the front door, stunning her, and then did it two more times before tossing her onto the ground like she was nothing more than a rag doll. He straddled her and sank the knife deep into her stomach. Once, twice, three times…and then again and again and again. She lost count as the number climbed. A new fire ripped through her as he took the knife along her wrists multiple times.

Barely clinging to consciousness, she heard him sigh before the knife clattered to the floor next to her head. He moved around the house before she heard the garage door open and then his footsteps and a splash. Constant splashing. The sound disappeared before returning, and then a metallic tink before a loud whoosh and the roar of flames. Nate retreated through the foyer, stepping over her before leaving the front door open behind him.

“If Nina hadn’t gotten into a fight with Brina that night, I don’t think I’d be here,” Elizabeth says, jarring me back to the present. She plays with her fingers in her lap as we sit on a bench on the outskirts of the fountain under a giant magnolia tree. “I don’t even remember dragging myself out of the house, but somehow I made it to the front steps where she found me.” She absentmindedly rubs her arm through the sleeve of her sweater, and I reach over to stop the movement. I tug her into my arms and squeeze. Her shoulders rise and fall with a shuddered breath before she relaxes into my embrace, and I kiss the top of her head.

What can I say that will make it any better? What can I say that will take the pain of that memory away? No words seem right at this moment. Instead, I just hold her and let her go through the motions for as long as she needs. Finally, when she pulls away, she wipes her eyes and offers me a grateful smile.

Walking home, I make a vow to myself and a silent one to her: no matter where we are, no matter if we’re getting along or not if we’ve fallen in love, are just friends, or nothing…I will always find my way to her on the anniversary.