Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
MONROE
Irun my fingers across my bottom lip the entire walk home.
I’m buzzing with energy. Crew is . . . all-consuming.
The moment I saw him on his bike, my heart went into overdrive.
There’s something so alluring, so different about him that I can’t get enough of.
He’s so much more complex than meets the eye.
His striking physical appearance would scare the wrong person, but to me, he’s gorgeous.
Tall and muscular in all the right places, with a strong, chiseled jaw, and deep, mysterious eyes.
He’s covered in tattoos, and when he stepped off his bike without a T-shirt on, I swear I could feel my pulse between my legs.
Ripped, toned muscles span across his abdomen, a splatter of random tattoos covering his flesh. His nipple is pierced with a hoop, and I had to use all of my control not to ask to touch all of him. Crew is gorgeous. One of the sexiest men I’ve ever met. And he seems to be interested in me.
If it weren’t for having plans this evening, I could have spent the entire rest of the day walking around and talking with him. I don’t care if the entire town whispers and watches. Let them. They do anyway.
Before I realize it, I’m standing in the front entryway of my parents’ house, kicking off my sandals.
My mom rounds the corner, her light blonde hair styled in a chic side braid.
She comes to a stop in front of me, grabbing my biceps, her smile widening as her blue eyes dart all over me.
God, her mom instincts are always so spot on.
She’s like a bloodhound on the chase. I never could keep anything from her.
“I know that face. Did you meet a man?” I can feel my cheeks flaming with heat.
“I did,” I squeal, jumping from foot to foot as I shake my head in excitement.
“Ah! Tell me everything!” My mom drags me to the couch where my sister Aurora is already lounging. She perks up, clearly ready to hear any possible tea I may have.
“He’s tall, muscular, and handsome. He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s endearing and sweet,” I confess.
It’s clear Crew is layered, so multifaceted that it’s going to take me a while to peel back each one and get to know him, but I’m up for that challenge.
I hope he comes around again so that I get the chance.
“He’s different from every guy I’ve ever met before, but the biggest thing is that we’ve only met twice, and each time I felt the same. Comfortable, but also excited? The rest of the world just disappears when he’s around, and I can’t help but want to get lost in him and the world he lives in.”
My mom smiles at me like she couldn’t be happier.
I hit the jackpot when it comes to the parent lottery.
They’ve always been the most supportive people in all our lives, but especially me.
After my accident, they could have locked me up, put me in a bubble after coming so close to almost losing me.
But they’ve always pushed me to keep going, to not let nearly dying and being the only survivor of that car accident stop me from living.
They’ve only ever wanted to see me thrive. Something I’m still figuring out how to do.
It’s easy to let fear take the reins, and trust me, more than a few times, I almost gave up control.
Mostly because it seemed easier to give up than to keep going.
The real courage is living. But with my family behind me, I was able to come out of the depression that lasted for the first few years after the accident.
Was the plan to always become a mortician?
No. I wanted to be a nurse. But after almost dying, well, dying and coming back to life, taking care of the dead just seemed more natural to me than taking care of the living.
I still don’t understand why I was the only one who survived that day.
Why all of our lives were claimed, but I was the only one who came back.
I struggled for years with the grief, the guilt, the lack of understanding and comprehension. I still do.
It would have been so much easier to just stay gone with Nora, Tyler, and Javier than be forced to live without them.
Today is a reminder of those feelings. The trouble with living in a small town like Amberwood is that you run into everyone from time to time.
And coming face-to-face with Tyler’s twin brother is like looking at a ghost. An angry ghost who wants to haunt you and remind you that you should have been the one who’s gone and his brother the one who lived.
Trust me, Zach, I’ve thought the same thing more than once. Even if Tyler was an arrogant asshole all those years ago, my best friend loved him, and he didn’t deserve to die. None of them did.
So, I live for all of us. I’m grateful for every day, but I still haven’t found a way to live life to its fullest.
Maybe this is why I gravitate toward Crew. He’s not like the rest of the town; he’s different and doesn’t seem like he cares about anything anyone thinks or says. I guess you’d have to feel that way if you’re a Hell’s Heathen.
There’s an awareness inside me that knows I should be fearful of him, but my mind refuses to go there. I’ve never once felt like he was dangerous, despite exuding a savage viciousness that he’s so clearly capable of.
“Where did you meet?”
“We first met when he came into the mortuary. His friend passed away too young. I didn’t see him again until today. He saw me walking on the side of the road downtown, and he stopped to say hi. We ended up walking together to Between the Notes while I picked out new music.”
“He just dropped everything he was doing to walk with you?” Aurora asks. She yawns like she’s bored, but I know she loves to hear this kind of stuff. She’s been wanting me to date for a while now.
“He did.” I omit the part where he got off his motorcycle and how hot he looks riding it.
“That’s sweet, Roe,” my mom adds. “You think you’ll see more of him?”
“I hope so.” Butterflies take flight in the pit of my stomach at the thought of him popping up again.
If anything, I could use a new friend around here.
Someone who doesn’t look at me like the girl who survived the accident that killed three teenagers in such a small community.
Who doesn’t look at me like the girl who came back from the dead.
The girl everyone looks at with pity, even though I’m doing my best to live.
The rest of the night goes by in a blur of dinner with my family, gossip around the table, a game of animal gotcha with Cooper, and then I finally head home to my little sanctuary.
I completely forget about my stalker until later that night, when I feel like eyes are undressing me through the window.
It’s subtle at first, an inky caress that travels down my spine.
The air thickens in the small space of my little home, and I pause, listening for a sound that never comes.
Sensations slide over me, slow and deliberate, my body breaking out in goosebumps.
This time, I don’t let myself get lost in the fantasy of it; I face it head-on. I’m probably breaking every major no-no from every slasher movie ever made, but I don’t care. I need to know.
Walking to the front door, I quickly flick the outdoor light on and open it, stepping out onto my little porch and looking from side to side, scanning the landscape as far as my eyes can see.
Nothing but flowers and darkness greet me, but when I look down, I’ve trampled all over a freshly picked daisy.
A shiver runs down my neck, my blood rushing between my ears, my pulse a rapid drum against every major blood vessel in my body.
I stare at it for a moment, the crushed petals detached from the center.
Someone was here. Someone has been here.
I knew it, had the proof of it, but this feels different. This feels more real than ever before.
I don’t feel fear, not really. I know fear, that sharp blade that comes from out of nowhere, the panic that tries to claw its way out of your body. This isn’t that. This is softer, intimate, attentive. As if someone is trying to learn me by heart.
My pulse drums under my skin. Somewhere out there, someone is very aware of me. Waiting. Watching. And the most alluring part is how personal it feels, as if whoever is there already knows me and is taking their time. Hunting me. Taunting me.
I pick up what’s left of the flower, stepping back inside and locking my front door. I flick the lights off and bathe myself in darkness, quickly climbing into bed, feeling more exposed than ever before.
That night, I toss and turn again, dreaming of being in the back seat of Tyler’s car right before the accident.
I feel it all again and again, the fear, the adrenaline, the horror, the split-second rush of emotions before my heart shatters into a million pieces.
The only difference is this time, instead of being pulled out by EMTs, I’m pulled out by a tattooed stranger who smells like fire and dew, so warm and safe.
He pulls me into his chest, where he breathes life back into me, my heart beating once again.
And then I’m whole again. Chosen to live on.
Claimed by some other entity that didn’t find me ready to pass with my friends.
When I wake up the next morning, I swear I can smell the faint scent of smoke and rain, like the aftermath of a storm, lingering in my room.
“Good morning, lovely daughter. You’re looking a little under the weather. Are you alright?” my dad asks as I steal a piece of bacon from the plate at the bar.
“I think so? I had some weird dreams last night. I ran into Zach Martin yesterday, and it’s always unnerving.”
“It is for everyone. Imagine how Zach feels when he looks in the mirror.”
“I can’t imagine, Dad. It’s hard to think about, and when I do, even after all these years, it’s difficult not to spiral. I know he resents me. I know he’s pissed I survived and Tyler didn’t. But it’s been eleven years! I shouldn’t feel guilty for living!”
My dad clicks off the stove where he’s flipping pancakes and walks around to the other side of the bar, wrapping his big arms around me and pulling me into a bear hug. I rest my head against his broad chest, inhaling the fatherly comfort he’s always given freely.
“I know it’s not fair, honey, but you cannot feel guilty for surviving. You are here, breathing, blinking, thinking, walking, living. We just need to get you to the thriving part.”
Maybe what I need is a change in scenery.