Chapter 18
18
Christa
B y nightfall, I’m back at my apartment building, just getting out of a cab after dropping Aunt Mary off at her place. I find Cassius, River, and Nathan waiting for me at the base of the front steps, all three looking understandably worried and upset.
“What the hell, Christa?” River snaps.
I show him my dead phone. “Everything happened so fast, I didn’t even charge my phone. I’m sorry.”
“We tried to see you at the hospital,” Cassius replies. “You said, according to your attending physician, that you’re ‘not accepting any visitors.’”
“We hung around for long enough for your doctor to call security on us,” Nathan adds, a muscle ticking furiously in his square jaw. “It was pretty embarrassing, to be honest.”
“I owe you an apology, but I really just needed some space, some room to recover,” I say with a trembling voice. “The doctor assured you I was okay, though. All you had to do was respect my wishes.”
River scoffs and moves closer to me. My heart starts beating faster with each step he takes. “Are you fucking serious right now?” he asks. “Christa, we were worried sick about you. You collapsed in the middle of a meeting with your developers, and you expect us to just… what, keep a courteous distance?”
“I was hoping for that particular outcome, yes,” I mumble, barely able to look him in the eyes. I feel awful, but I do need to put some distance between us. They have a way of inadvertently messing with my senses, and I don’t want to let my heart get in the way of my decision-making. Not in my current condition. “River, I’m sorry. I’ll say it a thousand times, and someday, I will earn your forgiveness, but right now, I need some room. Please.”
“How would you describe our relationship, Christa?” Cassius calmly asks while River steps aside.
I feel their eyes on me. Their collective urge to touch me, to hold me—it resonates within me, too. But restraint must be practiced. For everyone’s sake.
“What do you mean?” I reply, looking around.
There’s not much foot traffic at this hour, particularly in a neighborhood that is usually quiet after dark. The occasional car rumbles down the road, and I get a nod from a passing neighbor, but that’s about it. I wish the quiet of this early evening could translate into some kind of quiet inside my soul, too.
“The four of us,” Cassius says. “How would you describe us? Just fun? Or is there something more happening between us?”
“We’re in a complicated situation,” I reply. “Surely you understand that.”
“Screw the societal norms for a second. I don’t care what other people think or want from us. I want to know how you feel about us.” He pauses. “What are we to you, Christa?”
“I’m not sure. We never really talked about it,” I say.
“But what do our actions tell you?” Cassius replies. “Do we come across as super-rich playboys who just want to have fun?”
I shake my head slowly. “No.”
“There’s more to us than we ever expected, that much is true,” Nathan adds. “You are a friend, first and foremost. We don’t let our closest friends go through things on their own, Christa. You went through something today.”
“It was just a fainting spell,” I reply. “All the stress, the erratic eating, not enough water, I’ve got a few things on my mind—”
“Why don’t you talk to us about any of it? About what happened at Perry-Sage?” River asks with a furrowed brow. “We all know it’s at least part of the reason you’ve been acting so out of character lately.”
“Because it’s my story to tell, and I decide when I tell it,” I snap, quick to fumble through my purse for the keys. Good thing Aunt Mary stopped by the office first to grab my things before she came to find me at the hospital. “And I’m not ready to tell it yet. You’re just going to have to respect that.”
Nathan takes a deep breath. “We’re trying, Christa. But it’s obvious that it’s eating you up inside. How much longer do you think you can last? It will only get worse.”
“Why won’t you let us help you?” Cassius adds. “Whatever it is, we can work it out. We can at least listen and not judge. You should know that by now.”
I’m tearing up, clutching my keys in one hand while I try to think of a way out of this conversation, before I cave in and break the promise I made to myself.
“It’s not you; I swear. You guys have been nothing but kind and loving and supportive in every possible way. I’m the bad apple, okay? I’ve done things you won’t approve of. Things I thought I could live with. And now, I’m having to pay for my sins. I cannot possibly drag any of you down with me.”
“Christa, I’d bet the company that we’ve done worse in the years we’ve been apart,” River says. “We can handle your past. You’ve certainly been able to handle ours. Give us some credit, baby.”
“Can I just go to bed and meet you at the office tomorrow?” I suggest, already thinking of a way to shirk out of work altogether, at least for a couple of days. “We could grab a coffee and bear claw from the cafeteria, find a quiet spot, and talk. Just not now, not tonight.”
Nathan shakes his head. “We’ve had enough of putting us off, Christa. This can’t wait anymore. We need to sit down and talk; you’re right. But not later, not tomorrow—now. For us, for our relationship, for our future.”
“Our future.” I can’t help but scoff, bitterness gathering in the back of my throat. “Come on, guys. I’ve already screwed things up with Teagan. I don’t want to do the same with you. Don’t push me when I don’t want to be pushed.”
“Christa,” Cassius picks up on what I’m about to do. “Please. You know it’s not just physical between us. You know we’re going somewhere with this. Stop running away from us.”
“I can’t,” I reply. “Not tonight.”
“Wait!” River takes a step toward me, but I’m fast.
Instead of going into my apartment, I bolt around my car that’s parked at the curb and slip behind the wheel. The guys have no choice but to let me go. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find them in their joint office, and we’ll talk. I’ll find a good excuse; I’ll whip up some reasons to break up—at least until I figure things out.
I’m afraid they’ll reject me once they learn the whole truth.
Sometimes, it’s better to leave first.
I keep driving, trying to clear my head. I have no particular destination in mind; I just need to be alone for a bit.
Ahead, the night spreads across the wide-open road with a quiet starry sky and a red line cutting along the distant horizon. There’s not much traffic on this stretch of the road.
A bright light flashes in my rearview mirror.
“Dude, come on,” I mutter and slow down a little to let the driver go past me so I can get his stupidly bright light out of my eyes.
But the car behind me slows down, too.
So I speed up again, moving into the second lane. They follow.
It doesn’t take long for me to notice a pattern. I can’t see the car’s make and model, but I definitely can see how persistent they are in their pursuit. There’s plenty of room on this road for them to overtake me, but they don’t.
I push the gas pedal to the floor and go faster while making sure I stay within the lines on this stretch of the road.
The car behind me speeds up, too.
“No…” I breathe as I realize they’re going faster than me without changing lanes.
They’re getting close.
“NO!” I cry out and ram my foot down on the gas pedal.
THUD
The whole car shakes and wobbles upon impact, but I grip the wheel tighter until my knuckles turn white to stay on the road. I veer left and right, trying to shake them off while keeping an eye on the oncoming traffic as well.
THUD
Again, they come in hard.
I’m shaking like a leaf, trying so hard not to cry. “Stop it!”
The third bump sends me across the first lane as I do my damnedest not to hit a truck coming in fast from the opposite direction. A loud horn pierces my ears as I scream and lose control of the car. I hit the brakes as hard as I can and slide onto the service lane.
But the car behind me keeps coming and bumps my fender again.
I’m pushed off the road altogether and onto the dirt, rolls of dust and dry hay rising into the night as I quiver behind the wheel. I’ve come to a full, safe stop, but so has the car behind me. I still can’t tell what make and model it is.
Paralyzed in the driver’s seat by raw fear, all I can do is wait.
My eye catches a glimpse of my phone on the floor, half-hidden under the passenger seat. It must’ve slipped out of my purse at some point during the ordeal. My heart is beating so fast, it’s about to jump out of my ribcage.
I look in the rearview mirror again. I need to call the cops.
A man gets out of the car.
The pitch-black darkness of the open field is cut wide open and blinded by his headlights. It’s meant to daze and confuse me. I jump out of my skin when he knocks on my window.
“Oh, fuck!” I gasp and freeze on the spot.
“Roll the window down,” the man calls out. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
He sounds calm. I see black jeans and the glint of a belt buckle underneath a leather jacket. He knocks again, but I refuse to budge. I’ve got one hand on the gear shift and my foot is about to hit the gas again.
It will only take a couple of seconds to get out of his reach.
“Suit yourself,” the guy says and leaves a note resting on the windshield, then walks back to his car. I can’t see his face or any other distinguishing detail.
I wait for what feels like an eternity as he gets behind his wheel and drives off with an agitated screech. The crimson taillights fade in the distance, disappearing in the deep of night. When the adrenaline wears off, I start weeping uncontrollably.
I’m certain I already know what the note says.
I roll my window down and reach out to take it.
My fingers shake as I unfold the piece of paper. It’s the same handwriting as before.
DON’T THINK YOU CAN RUN FROM ME. I’LL ALWAYS FIND YOU. —V.M.
“V.M.,” I whisper.
I break into an avalanche of sobs, utterly distraught and overwhelmed with hopelessness. I finally admit to myself that I can’t do this alone anymore. The Hawthornes were right even when they didn’t know the entire story.
My eyes sting, and I can barely see in front of me, but I manage to reach down and retrieve my phone. My hands tremble, but I successfully tap into my call log and scroll until I find Nathan’s number.
I put the phone up to my ear and wait for him to pick up.
“Nate,” I manage. “I… I need your help.”