Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
JULIETTE
C onflict rages inside me. Hatred, fear, lust, and love all clash together, echoing the fatal sound of a gunshot. Everything is changing so fucking fast. It’s like the world is spinning into a cyclone of madness while I can’t do anything but stand still.
And to make it worse, I had to bring in the thunderstorm that was that kiss. Sometimes the earth gets a rain that feels cleansing, like it’s giving the planet a fresh start. Dean’s kiss felt just like that. But it set off so many sirens in my head. I can’t do this with him again. It’s too dangerous.
“What did the cop want?” PJ asks.
He pulls my head from the clouds, but I can still feel the thunder clapping through me like a warning.
“Uh,” I reply.
I have no idea what to say, but he deserves something.
“He came by because of what Arnie did.”
It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either. Fortunately, he accepts it and changes the subject.
“Do you want to watch a movie?”
“Sure, buddy. Why don’t you go pick something out and I’ll grab some popcorn?”
“Oooo,” my mom says as she walks up. “Popcorn?”
“We’re going to watch a movie, Grandma,” PJ says. “Want to watch it too?”
“Of course I do.”
Kane appears by my mother’s side.
“There you are,” she says. “We’re going to watch a movie. Join us.”
It’s not even a question. Not that Kane would say no to my mom. He adores her.
My head aches with all the things I can’t comprehend right now. It’s a sharp, biting pain, like goblin teeth chewing away at my brain matter.
“Mom, can you help PJ pick a movie? I need to grab my medicine really fast.”
“Sure, honey. Do you need some help?”
“No,” I sigh.
Honestly, I need a second alone. A moment to breathe.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, call if you need some help,” she says, taking PJ’s hand.
“Yeah,” I say as I slip out of the room.
I’m grateful that I managed to leave before Dean came back. My cheeks heat as I remember the outline of his cock in those sweats. I’m not surprised he can’t stand up. I can’t lie and say my panties aren’t soaked from that kiss. But this is a bad idea—the worst idea. And it’s not going to happen. I’m not going to start anything with Dean fucking Walsh.
I get into my room and go straight for the paper bag that holds my medication. I glance at the labels just long enough to determine which one is for pain. Twisting the cap open, I dump three long white pills into my hand and grab my water bottle. I take a sip before tossing the pills into my mouth and taking a bigger drink this time. The pills go down easily. Too bad the effect isn’t immediate. My head is seriously hurting.
Laying back on the bed, I take a deep breath. I’m out of my element. I don’t know up from down right now, and I feel like I’ve got the weight of the world on me. This can’t get any worse. I know Arnie is in handcuffs and all, but I don’t feel safe—especially not after that agent’s visit.
If we had visited Arnie’s parents that weekend, would we still be alive right now? Something tells me we wouldn’t, and that chills me to my very core. The bitter frost touches my soul. I can’t handle that scenario. I can’t even think about what would have happened to my son. But holy shit, I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful that he bailed. I’m thanking fate for that one.
Then there’s the fire. Who set it? Last I heard, most of my house is gone—my bedroom, my computer, it’s all gone. I don’t know what I’m going to do, and I can’t even seem to face the problem at all. I’m just numb. As if I don’t care what happens, I’ll just take it as it comes. Maybe I’m just frozen right now. I really don’t know. But I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be panicking. Isn’t that what most would do?
In the hospital, I thought they melted my brain. It’s nothing compared to now. I know Dean said none of this was my fault, but I know he’s lying. Of course he blames me. I took his kid from him and then brought a goddamn serial killer around. How could he not? I just don’t know what the hell to do about it.
My phone rings on the nightstand. I groan at the sound. It’s making my headache worse. I grab it and answer without looking at the screen.
“Hello.”
“Hi Juliette, it’s Eva. I was just calling to check on you.”
“You are? How did you know?”
“Yes, what happened was all over the news. I recognized Arnie’s name from our sessions and figured you were the victim. How are you holding up?”
“I don’t know,” I blow out a breath. “I can’t begin to process it.”
“That’s normal. You’re under an immense amount of stress.”
“No kidding,” I mutter. “I’m not sure that is even an accurate description.”
“How is PJ?”
“He has good moments and bad ones. Sometimes he’s inconsolable, and other times he’s okay.”
“Have you explained everything to him?”
I debate telling her what the cop said earlier. Is that public knowledge? I’m not sure. I know the attack on me is all over the news, but his other crimes? I’m hesitant to blab that information.
“In a way. I’ve left out a lot of details.”
“Probably for the best. And you’re sure you’re feeling okay?”
“I’m as okay as I can be. Uh,” I get anxious, feeling like I have to tell her something. “Dean kissed me.”
She gasps in my ear. “Already?”
“Already?”
“Sorry, I’m just surprised to hear you moved on so quickly after Arnie.”
Her words shackle me with a ring of shame. But I know she’s right. I’m making a bigger mess than I need to. I’m fucking everything up with how I’m handling this—or, to be more accurate, how I’m not handling it.
“Well, it was a bit of a surprise to me too,” I murmur.
“And how are you feeling about it?”
“I don’t know,” I reply.
“Are you planning to reconcile with Dean?”
“I don’t know,” I repeat. My head hurts too much to have this conversation right now. “It’s like I can’t think at all.”
“You may be in shock. In that case, be sure to get rest. Your brain will want a break.”
“I think you’re right,” I fake a yawn. “I should go take a nap now.”
“Yes, go do that. I’ll call you in a few days and we’ll set up an appointment.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
I hang up before I say anything else that makes me look like a slutty idiot. Throwing an arm over my eyes, I let myself sink into the bed. Maybe if I lay here long enough, the universe will take pity on me and let the bed swallow me up.
Eva’s question bounces around in my brain. Am I planning to reconcile with Dean? No. Of course I’m not. Dean and I tried that once; it didn’t work out. Clearly, the two of us are not meant to be endgame here. But I won’t say that having him around has been terrible. I needed his brand of comfort. With my entire world crumbling down around me like a house of cards, I need every bit of comfort I can get. That’s all.
My body feels like it’s ready to fall into a grave and skydive all at once. There’s so much restless energy lost inside me, like everything in me knows I should be doing something—anything—to take control of the situation. But I just can’t. So all that energy is left on an endless carousel, waiting for me to stop being a coward.
“Mom,” PJ calls through the door. “Are you coming?”
Oh yeah. The movie.
“I’ll be right there,” I reply, pushing myself up to my elbows.
Leaving the bed doesn’t sound appealing in the least, but I’ll be damned if I act like a worse mother than I already am. I can’t break a promise to PJ.
Pulling myself out of the fluffy space is harder than I thought it would be. My body is heavy, but the headache has eased. I pull the door open and come face to face with Dean. He’s holding a bowl of popcorn with PJ standing at his elbow.
Dean narrows his eyes at me. “You feeling okay?”
I shrug. “My head doesn’t hurt as much, but I’m tired.”
“PJ, do you think you could carry the popcorn? I want to help Mom down the hall.”
“I don’t need help.”
To make my point, I take off down the hall before PJ can take the buttery snack from his dad. My hand clings to the cool walls, helping me stay balanced. See? I told Dean I didn’t need his help, and I was right.
It doesn’t take long for the boys to catch me. I’m walking as slow as a turtle at this point.
“Maybe you should lie down?” Dean suggests.
“I can lay down on the couch.”
“The bed may be more comfortable.”
“I’m watching a movie with my son,” I snap, much harsher than I intend to.
But fucking hell, I’m capable of doing this. I need to do this. I can’t be the perfect mom with warm cookies and handmade costumes, but movies? Movies I can handle. PJ may always resent that he didn’t have that kind of mom growing up, but maybe he can appreciate this.
“Okay,” Dean relents. “But you’re sitting down next to me. Just in case.”
“In case of what?”
He raises an eyebrow at me. He’s worried about something—probably my concussion—but I don’t think he wants to voice that concern in front of PJ. It warms my heart and makes me yearn for things that could never be.
“Finally,” my mother says as we come into the living room.
She and Kane are already seated on the loveseat. My mom reaches for the popcorn, and of course, that comes attached to her grandson—a win-win for her, I’m sure. PJ climbs into the small space between Kane and his grandma. He pulls a soft blanket over himself and settles the popcorn in his lap.
For a moment, I consider sitting in the recliner. It would be safe from Dean. But before I can do anything, I feel Dean grab my elbow.
“Don’t even think about it, Bluebird. You’re sitting with me.”
He pulls me down onto the big couch with him. This thing is huge, and with only the two of us on it, it feels even bigger. Dean adjusts so that I’m leaning on him. He finds another blanket, covering both of us with it.
I’m taken back to a moment six years ago. Dean and I were having a movie night that my big brother crashed. But that didn’t stop Dean from touching me in places he shouldn’t have been—all underneath a blanket much like the one we’re enclosed in now.
As much as I try to fight it, I lean into him. His warmth cloaks me. The comfort of his scent and touch is everything I’ve been missing. I know nothing will ever come of this, and I’m probably just setting myself up for more heartbreak at this point. But I let myself relax as the movie begins. I give Dean more of my weight, laying my head on his shoulder. The peace I feel inside is almost enough to drown out the little voice telling me that I’m fighting the inevitable. And if there’s anything I’ve learned in the last six years, it’s that you can’t fight fate.