Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Ava
My apartment is empty, hollow. The California sunshine blazes outside, but the blackout curtains are pulled closed, so once I shut the front door, the livingroom is drenched in darkness.
Perfect. It matches my mood.
I drop my keys into the bowl by the door, then wander into the kitchen aimlessly, opening the refrigerator. Most of the food is probably expired. I grab a strawberry yogurt, check the date, then grab a spoon and take it to the couch.
Halfway through my yogurt, I turn my new phone on. The screen immediately lights up as several messages flood in, mostly from co-workers wondering where I’ve been. I don’t reply. Instead, I text my dad and tell him I’ll swing by first thing in the morning.
Then, I pull Silverman’s business card out of my bra, and before I can chicken out, I dial the number. It goes straight to voicemail. I take a deep breath and say, “I’m ready to talk,” then I leave my info and hang up abruptly.
The silence afterward is almost unbearable. So I decide to distract myself by changing my clothes, washing my face, and brushing my hair, in an attempt to feel human again.
A while later, I’m sitting on the couch, bored, scrolling through my socials, when a new text from Chase pops up.
Hey. Been thinking about our last conversation. Can we talk?
I blink down at the message, my throat tight. It’s been a few days since our conversation at the beach party, and he’s probably wondering what I’ve decided. What have I decided? Do I even know?
Sure. I’m home. Can you come over now?
Be there in ten.
Honestly, I have no idea what I’m going to tell him. It’s not like I’m officially with Jackson, so, technically, I guess I’m free to get back with Chase. But I’m also a murderer, who may or may not go to jail at any second, so…yeah. It’s pretty fucking complicated.
While I’m waiting for Chase to show up, I pace a little, checking the clock, wishing the doorbell would ring already. When it finally does, my heart jumps into my throat.
Swallowing down my anxiety, I rush to the door. Chase is standing on my welcome mat, looking freshly showered.
He smiles. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I reply, stepping aside so he can come in.
He crosses the threshold, and for a beat, we just stand there in the living room, neither of us saying a word. His eyes scan my face like he’s memorizing it, and something in my chest tightens.
“You look good,” he says.
I pull in a breath. “Thanks. You too.”
Another awkward stretch of silence hangs between us. He shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders tensing, like he’s trying to make himself smaller. I can’t tell if he’s nervous, frustrated, or just unsure what to do with himself.
“So,” I say, crossing my arms. “You wanted to talk.”
“Yeah, um…” He clears his throat. “I, uh…just found out I got a full ride to ExU next year.”
I blink. “As in, a scholarship?”
“Yeah, kinda,” he replies without elaborating.
Kinda? How can someone kinda have a scholarship? In the end, I don’t ask because it doesn’t really matter anyway. “That’s...wow.” I flash him a tight smile that I hope is convincing. “Congrats.”
“Thanks,” he says, shifting on his feet. “It’s a big deal. And it changes everything, you know? I can quit my job, and really get serious about school…”
“Right.” I nod slowly, suspicious of where this is going. “So, what, are you here to break up with me officially or something?”
He exhales sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. “If only it were that simple.”
His words land like stones in my stomach, but I keep my face neutral. “What does that mean?”
“Listen, I know you’ve always felt like I have a Boy Scout vibe, but…”
The air drains from my lungs.
Boy Scout vibe.
Jackson’s voice echoes in my head, clear as day. He’s got that Boy Scout vibe going on. That’s what he said about Chase right after I was kidnapped. Now the pieces are falling into place—Chase’s random beach party appearance. His “kinda” scholarship. Everything suddenly makes sense.
“Jackson,” I say. “He’s behind this.”
Chase’s eyes snap to mine. “I’m sorry?”
“Boy Scout. Jackson used those exact words to describe you.” My pulse is hammering now, hot anger flooding through me. “He paid you off, didn’t he?”
“What? Ava, no—”
“Don’t lie to me, Chase.” I step closer, and he actually backs up. “A kinda full-ride scholarship out of nowhere? Breaking up with me because you need to ‘focus on school’? Using the same weird phrase Jackson used?”
“Ava—”
“How much did he give you?” I demand.
His jaw clenches, and for a long, awkward moment, he just stares at me. Then something crumbles in his expression. “It’s not like that.”
Goddamn. Are there any guys out there who aren’t lying sacks of shit?
“Then what is it like?”
“It’s—” He runs both hands through his hair now, agitated. “It’s complicated, okay? He approached me, and I needed the money for school. But that doesn’t mean—”
“You took money from Jackson to break up with me,” I interrupt, my voice shaking.
“Not from him,” Chase says, pushing out a sigh, deflated now that the truth has come out. “And not to break up with you.”
I pause. Confused. “What does that mean?”
If it wasn’t Jackson who paid him off, then who? And more importantly, why?
“Ava, don’t look at me like that.” His voice rises defensively as his hand darts out. He grabs my wrist, and I’m so shocked, I can’t move. “All he wants to do is talk.”
Adrenaline flares in my chest, and I twist against his hold. “He who, Chase?”
“Don’t fight me,” he says, ignoring my question. His face is a mask of anger I’ve never seen before. “Why not make this whole thing easier on both of us?”
My stomach drops. “You need to get out.”
He tugs me toward one of my dining room chairs. “Ava–”
“Get out,” I scream, hopefully loud enough for my neighbors to hear.
He forces me down into the chair, his expression shifting, something cold sliding behind his eyes. When he speaks again, his voice is different. Flat. Almost mechanical. “I can’t do that.”
Then he pulls something out of his back pocket—zip ties. A cold chill trickles down my spine. He planned this, whatever this is. He came prepared to restrain me, and God only knows what else.
“I have two neighbors who share walls with me. They’ve probably already called the police…” My words come out in a frantic jumble. “But you could leave now. And I won’t say anything, I swear…”
That’s what kidnap victims always say on TV. Does it ever work? I can’t remember.
“The neighbors aren’t home,” he says, as he zipties my wrists to the spindles of the wood chair, followed by my ankles. “In fact, both apartments are vacant now. I was told the tenants moved out last week.”
What the fuck? Who even told him my neighbors were gone? I never would’ve guessed Chase was capable of something like this.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and what’s really fucked up is that he actually sounds sorry, which somehow makes this all worse. “I really am, Ava. But it’s going to be okay. Just answer the questions you’re asked, and you’ll be good.”
As he walks away, toward the front door, my heart starts to pound. “Chase, please—”
When he opens my front door, there’s someone standing in the doorway.
It’s one of the security guards from Rush House—I never knew his name—and for a split second, hope flickers in my chest—stupid, desperate hope that he’s here to help.
But then he steps inside, eyes cold, expression unreadable, and any hope I had dies instantly.
Chase starts to move past him to leave, but the guard catches him by the front of his shirt and shoves him back into the apartment.
“You stay,” the security guard growls.
Chase stumbles, then straightens. “I was told I could leave once I’d done my part.”
“Change of plans.”
Before I can even wonder what’s going on, another shadow fills the doorway. He’s older, handsome, with dark, greying hair and wild green eyes that eat into me from across the room. His tailored navy suit probably costs more than my car, and he has a gold watch on his wrist that completes the fit.
I’ve never met this man in my life.
But I’d know that face anywhere.