34. The Truth
The Truth
CALLIE
“He said he was handling a situation, and if I told you where he was, he’d hurt you.” Jake stares at me intently. His jaw is clenched, and he’s opening and closing his fists while sitting on the edge of the couch in his living room.
My brother’s blue eyes are so different from Wes’s light icy ones. Jake’s are a deep, marine blue that annoys the shit out of me because I’ve always wanted remarkable eyes like that.
“I guess I’m not surprised.” I let my head drop back onto the soft cushion and shut my eyes. I spin my mother’s ring on my right ring finger. It feels so good back where it belongs. It’s the only thing that feels right in my life right now.
“I should’ve told you what I knew. I should’ve gone after him when he threatened you. I’m so sorry, Callie.” Jake runs a hand through his thick hair. “I still can. I can try to get the money back.”
“No!” I shake my head. “Please, don’t. It’s okay. Who knows what he would’ve done.” My brother is maybe a bit of a chickenshit, but not an asshole. I suppose his heart was in the right place when he decided not to tell me the whole story.
“I’m sorry he made you give him Dad’s money.”
I open my eyes and turn my head.
“He said he needed it. Any idea what he meant? Was it just something he said, or is there more there?”
I don’t know why I’m asking. I shouldn’t care. I don’t care. The money is gone and, hopefully, so is Shane.
Jake swallows, and his lips grow thin. “There are rumors he fucked up on an assignment. I don’t know details, I promise. But you know the family isn’t kind to members who fuck up.”
I wonder if there’s something else Jake’s not telling me.
I can see a shadow of fear in the lines on his face.
Jones knows about my inheritance, therefore he knows about Jake’s.
But if it was really Shane’s fuck up that made him desperate for money and my half of the inheritance covers it, maybe that’ll keep Jake safe.
“I really don’t know anything else.”
“Okay, I believe you.” But do I? It doesn’t matter, I suppose.
I thought I’d feel a deep relief once Shane signed the divorce papers, but I don’t.
I’m devastated to have walked away from Wes.
I’m furious because Shane doesn’t deserve any of my father’s money.
I’m confused about my life choices going forward.
Yesterday, after I met with Shane and ended things with Wes, I texted Meadow and went to visit her at her apartment.
She was kind and open, and we promised to make more of an effort to see each other.
Then I got on a train at Penn Station to head back to Maine.
It was a long-ass journey that had me change trains in Boston and deposited me at the station in Portland at one o’clock in the morning.
I took a car back to the apartment and collapsed in bed, exhausted from the past few days. Weeks, really.
My insides twist when I think about the look on Wes’s face when I ended things in the diner yesterday.
I can’t believe I had the strength to do that.
The look on his face was heartbreaking. The lies I told him!
I could tell he was fighting himself to let me go.
I wish he hadn’t. I wish he’d fought me harder.
“You okay, Callie?”
“Fine. I’m fine.” I sit up and focus back on the laptop resting on my thighs. I want this conversation to be over. “Thanks for telling me the truth.”
Jake lingers, and I just want him to leave me alone. Finally, he stands and walks back down the hallway to his bedroom.
I stare at the laptop screen. My finger hovers over the submit button to the master’s program I’ve been planning to apply to.
I talked to someone from the program weeks ago, and they said there’s no reason I won’t be accepted.
The application itself has been complete for weeks, and I’ve been procrastinating, my version of Jake’s chickenshit by not pressing the stupid submit button.
I can do it. It’s time. Everything is wrapped up here except for filing the signed divorce papers.
The lawyer’s office is closed until Monday morning, and there’s no way I’m putting the document in the mail and risking it getting lost. I emailed the lawyer to see if we can meet up, but he hasn’t responded. I’d go to his house and knock on his door if I knew where he lived.
And once that’s done, I leave.
My stomach twists. I’ll miss Lola and Jake, but I know I’ll stay in touch with them. But Wes? What about him?
I met Wes only four weeks and one day ago. It feels like a lifetime.
I feel awful right now, but I have to trust in the decisions I made when I was calm and rational and not in lo—woah, nope. When I wasn’t sort of obsessed with a gorgeous serial killer.
What a fucking joke. I truly am a disaster. First I marry a lowlife mob guy who my father did not approve of, then I fall in with a stalker serial killer.
Which just reinforces that I need a fresh start.
So why doesn’t it feel right? Not like it did a month ago before I’d met Wes. I knew what I wanted then.
Now, it feels like I want him instead of a brand-new life across the country. It’s probably because being with him is exciting, and even with the murders and drugging and zip ties and breaking in, he feels safe. I feel safe.
But you know where I’ll also feel safe? In my own apartment, far, far, away from known criminals.
In the moment, it felt like Wes and Noah were doing good when they took out that guy in Boston.
But now, away from them, it feels far more in the gray than black and white.
It’s vigilante justice. Murder. Definitely against the law and associated with very long jail sentences.
I want him, but I don’t want someone who’s a criminal like my family.
See? I can logic my way out of this. I nod my head, my eyes laser focused on the submit button.
Before I can continue to overthink it, I click. A little cry escapes my throat, but I push it down and pick up my phone.
Does Wes know where I am? Is he still tracking me?
I can’t believe he hasn’t texted or gotten in touch.
Except I can. The man might have zero boundaries, but I told him I don’t want him, and he respects the things I say.
But I never told him not to track me, and the knowledge that he might still be doing so is a fucked-up kind of comfort.
I send a text to Rebecca, my boss at the library, asking her to chat. She responds right away. Instead of hiding in my room, I pull on a hoodie and leave the apartment.
It’s beautiful outside. The sun is high in the sky and it’s warm enough to not wear a jacket. The official start of spring is only a few days away. Spring represents new beginnings, and it’s fitting that my life will restart just as the season turns.
Then a cool breeze rushes over me, and I shiver. How dare winter try to hang on, pulling me back just as spring is right there to pull me forward.
“Hey, Rebecca,” I say when the librarian answers my call. “I’m giving my notice.”
Rebecca freaks out, telling me how much she loves me, will miss me, wants what’s best for me, etc.
This feels all wrong.