28. To keep the goddess on my side, she demands a sacrifice
28
To keep the goddess on my side, she demands a sacrifice
Moth
B y the time I parked my convertible outside the jail, the sky was starting to lighten. I pulled the keys out of the ignition and tossed them into the purse, among the evidence I had gathered.
I didn’t want to give him a chance to lie to me. I didn’t want a fight. I didn’t want to second guess everything I knew when I was finally looking into his eyes. I wanted the truth, plain and simple. So I swung by his house on the way here and let myself in. Thankfully, the door had been unlocked, and it was a simple matter of moving around the house and collecting what I found.
Easy enough, considering he left it sitting out in the open.
He was brave, I’d give him that.
My hands came together at the top of the steering wheel, my knuckles white and my fingers shaking as I gripped the leather. I stared at the low, beige brick building, its windows watching me like wide-open, judgmental eyes, boring down on me with the weight of the entire world.
I grabbed my purse and headed inside, careful to keep my head down, but did it matter, really? My car was recognizable. Anyone who drove by would know it was me, and they’d know I was here.
Who cares? I didn’t care anymore what anyone thought of me.
Pulling the door open, I walked inside to a blast of cold air, and I shivered. Apparently, the cops liked to keep it cold in here. Maybe they hadn’t gotten the memo that summer was over. Glaring fluorescent lights burned down from the ceiling, washing everything in a too-white, sterile glow. Four low desks sat in the first room, one in each quadrant. All of them were empty and abandoned, with papers, folders, and computer screens scattered across, except for one.
Sheriff Banner sat behind the desk nearest the back of the room, leaning to his right to look up at me the moment I walked in the door. He looked ghostly. Even his dark complexion was washed out in these lights. They should have been a crime.
An awkward silence stretched between us, and finally, I forced my legs to move, stepping between the desks and making my way over to him. I kept my purse clutched close to my body as he approached. The last thing I needed was for him to ask what was in it.
“Everything okay, Vanessa?” he asked, looking up at me.
For the first time in a long time, I looked at him, and I really saw him. I saw the deep brown of his eyes and the lines that had taken up residence in the corners. He was too young for this type of stress.
How old could he have been? My age ?
“Yeah, everything’s great,” I said.
Lie.
That was a fucking lie.
Everything was not great. I’d just found out my childhood hero was stalking me.
Fucking funny how that worked.
“Something I can help you with?”
I cleared my throat, realizing I’d been staring.
“Uh, yeah. I’m here to see Tommy.”
He blinked, looking down at the desk. I could see him trying to think of an excuse, or maybe a reason why I’d be here.
Oh yeah, I wasn’t supposed to know.
Whoops.
“Sure, no problem,” he said after a minute, lifting from his seat. He snatched a ring of keys off the desk beside him and moved down the aisle. At the back of the room, a single steel door with a hashmark window separated us from the cells, and my heart sped up when I looked at it.
He was in there, behind that door.
It isn’t too late to turn around and walk out, the voice in my head reminded me, but I cleared my throat to force it away.
I had to do this. I’d never be able to live with myself if I didn’t.
Besides, my inner monologue was pretty fucking stupid if she thought this meant it was over. I had a sneaking suspicion it would never be over.
Sheriff Banner unlocked the door with a dull thunk of finality that felt like a door slamming somewhere around my heart. My entire body shook as I followed after him, and it only intensified when he pushed the door closed behind us with a dull thunk.
“Uh,” I started, turning to look at him. Except I couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Do you think I could talk to him alone?”
The way he looked at me was an odd mixture I couldn’t quite place. It was concern, confusion, and questioning all rolled into one.
“That’d be fine,” he said finally, giving me a nod. “I’ll just—”
He waved the keyring in the direction of the door we’d just come through and sighed.
“I’ll be sitting out here when you’re ready to go. Just knock on the window. He’s at the end of the hall there.”
He pointed to the last cell on the right, and I nodded.
After thanking him, we parted ways. I forced myself to hurry down the hall, taking my time when I reached the end. My heart was pounding and fluttering, skipping beats until I felt like my soul was set to leave my body. When I looked up, I caught his gaze, and I nearly hit the ground.
He was sitting on a long, low bench, pressed close to the bars. His hands wrapped around the steel, and his piercing brown eyes looked up at me. He clenched his stubbled jaw, remaining stone-cold and stoic as I approached the bars. I held onto the strap of my purse so tightly that part of me worried my fingers would turn purple and fall off. I recognized everything now—pieces of a puzzle that fell so correctly into place that I wondered how I had been stupid enough not to see it before. His broad shoulders, the slicked-back dark hair that I’d buried my fingers in, and the intense, tar-pit pool of his eyes that I’d found myself so hopelessly stuck in so many times.
When I stepped up to the cell, I sucked in a shaking breath, and the smell overwhelmed me. The scent of him slammed into my chest with so much force that I rocked on the spot.
There was no questioning it now.
I knew that smell. There was no denying it now if there ever had been before.
He was quiet, looking up at me, his eyes darkening when they met mine, and I almost lost my nerve. Almost.
How did he do that? How the fuck did he control me with just a look?
He stared up at me, meeting my eyes unapologetically, like he hadn’t been stalking me for weeks.
“Gimme one good reason not to walk out there and tell the sheriff what you did.”
Finally, he dropped his gaze, looking away from me.
What was the shadow that crossed behind his eyes? Was it anger or shame?
“I didn’t do anything to you,” he said, his voice low.
“Really? You didn’t?!” I ripped my purse down from my shoulder and tore it open, my shaking hand diving inside and pulling out the mass of evidence I’d found at his house—panties, my hairbrush, my IUD, and numerous pictures I hadn’t even known had been taken. I watched him swallow hard, and turn away, his shoulders falling and his hands balling into fists.
Was he angry? Did seeing what he did piss him off that much?
Maybe he was ashamed of himself .
“Fine,” he said, turning to me with eyes that sparked and burned with an inner fire that scorched right through me. “I did it. Is that what you wanna hear?”
I sighed, shaking my head. Somehow, hearing him admit it wasn’t what I had imagined. I didn’t feel any better. It didn’t calm me. I didn’t feel anything.
Maybe because some deep, inner part of me had known that all along.
“I don’t need to hear it, Tommy. I knew it,” I said, stuffing my handful of evidence back into my purse.
“Then what? Hmm? You want me to say I’m sorry?” He got to his feet, turning toward me, his hands draping through the bars inches away from my face. I’d had those hands around my throat, and as much as I wanted to now, I couldn’t hate it. “You want me to be sorry, Vanessa?”
He grinned, and the look on his face told me he was anything but apologetic. He was proud of himself. His knuckles were inches away from my face, and I could see the split skin and the splattered blood. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t think, let alone speak. I could barely breathe.
“I’m not sorry, Moth. Not even a little.”
“Why?” I breathed, my voice barely a whisper. The cold of the room had seeped into my flesh, leaving me aching.
“Because I’m fucked up,” he said, shrugging. “Because something about you drives me crazy and I can’t fight it. I tried. You’re like my weakness, and every second I spend away from you is more painful than I know how to explain.”
“How long?” I said, hating the crack in my voice .
I didn’t want him to hear my weakness, but it was there, regardless of how hard I fought it.
Maybe we had that in common at least.
“Since the funeral,” he said, and he sighed. He looked away from me, and when he looked back, the look in his eyes had shifted from pride to shame. There it was. There was his shame. It was unmistakable.
“That’s it?” I asked, my arms crossed over my chest. “Not longer?”
He narrowed his eyes at me, his fingers shaking as they wrapped around the bars.
“What are you talking about?”
“How did you know I was in that house, Tommy?” I asked, reaching out and wrapping my hands around the same bars, pushing towards him until we were inches apart. He could reach out and grab me, but I knew he wouldn’t. “Funny that you’re the one who saved me, and a few years later, you’re the one I need saving from .”
“No,” he growled, his eyes narrowed to wicked slits and a muscle jumping along the line of his jaw. “I am not a fucking pedophile .”
“Oh, my bad.” I rolled my eyes, stepping away. “Just a s talker. Wouldn’t wanna get it twisted.”
He stayed quiet, swallowing hard.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. I was taunting him, like an angry bull with a waving red cape. The only thing keeping me safe was the bars between us. “Do you wanna hurt me, Tommy?”
“No,” he said again, shaking his head as he turned back to look at me. “I told you. I would never hurt you, Moth. ”
“Then why not just talk to me? Why go to all this trouble? Stalking me? Breaking into my house?”
Again, he was quiet, but he stared into my eyes. There was an electricity between us, and something in me sparked every time I looked at him.
“I told you,” he said finally, and there was remorse in his eyes when he looked at the ground. “I’m fucked up. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too,” I said, turning away. “I would’ve fucked you, anyway.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously, and when his mouth dropped open in a look of shock, it took all my willpower not to burst into sarcastic laughter.
“Stay the fuck away from me, Tommy. I don’t wanna see you, ever . If you come near my house again, I will call Sheriff Banner, and I will tell him, and everyone else who will listen, exactly what you fuckin’ did to me.”
“Vanessa, hold on.”
I turned and walked down the hallway, clutching my purse and keeping my head down. I studied the tiles beneath my feet as I walked, fighting tears that flooded my eyes and threatened to fall.
Don’t cry.
Don’t.
Do. Not. Cry.
“Nessa?!” he called behind me.
I forced myself to keep walking, to ignore him. I had to.
“Moth! Don’t go!”
I made it to the door and reached up, my hand shaking as I tapped on the glass. When the key fed into the lock and the door popped open, I hurried through it, ignoring the sound of heavy, frantic breathing from behind me. Sheriff Banner pushed the door closed behind me, sliding the lock back into place before he turned to me.
“Everything okay?”
“Yep,” I said quickly, moving down the aisle. “Everything’s great.”
I just couldn’t stop lying, could I?
I’d made it to the door, swallowing hard, before another thought crossed my mind and I turned back, studying the sheriff from across the room.
“Sheriff Banner?”
“Yeah?” he looked up from where he’d taken a seat back behind the desk.
Pulling in a deep breath, I plodded over to him, keeping my eyes on the ground. I didn’t want to see the emotions I was fighting.
“About Tommy,” I started, and I released the breath I held in a deep, shaking sigh. “The guy was hurting me, and Tommy saved me. Just let him out before anyone else knows he’s here.”
Sheriff Banner looked up at me with a confused expression before he turned back to his work. A sigh slipped between his lips as she shook his head.
“Funny,” he said, looking up with eyes that told me he knew there was more to this than I was letting on. “He just keeps saving you.”
When I pulled into the driveway, Amelia was sitting on the porch, her hair a tousled mess and her pink phone clutched between her fingers. When she saw me pulling in, she looked up, and I could see the makeup smeared beneath her eyes and running in jagged lines down her cheeks.
She jumped up when I threw the car into park, stumbling in her heels as she threw herself in the front seat of my car and wrapped her arms around me in a hug so tight I had to fight to pull in a breath.
“Oh my god, Nessa!” Her voice cracked, and with every inhale, I could hear her sniffling. “I thought you were hurt! You left the bar, and then I came back and you weren’t here! I thought you were d-dead, or maybe—”
She smelled like alcohol, sweat, and sex.
I knew what she’d spent the night doing while I was fighting for my life. I couldn’t even be mad. If anything, it made me want to laugh, if only I had the energy.
“I’m sorry,” I said, sighing. I reached over, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and pulling her closer to me. “I just had some things to take care of.”
“What happened?” she asked, pulling away. Her makeup was smeared, her lips swollen, and the lipstick kissed off hours ago. I couldn’t be mad at her.
All I felt was an odd sense of relief that I didn’t even know how to explain.
“I had to go down to the jail,” I said simply, pulling away and tossing open the car door. “And bail out my stalker. ”
I walked past her, leaving her shocked. Her jaw dropped open in disbelief and her huge blue eyes looked up at me, so wide she looked doe-like.
“So it worked?!” she called, scrambling out of the car and hurrying after me as I pushed the front door open.
“Well, kinda,” I said. I didn’t need to tell her everything.
I didn’t need to tell her about Stephen and the things that had happened to him. Not after she’d been up all night worrying. She would find out soon enough, anyway.
“So who is it?!” she asked, hurrying past me and pushing the door closed behind me.
Part of me didn’t want to tell her, even if I didn’t know why. I didn’t want her to know. I wanted it to be our secret, but why?
“Tommy,” I said, forcing his name out before I could bite it back.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
She gasped, so long and so hard that I feared she was taking all the oxygen out of the air.
“Jeez, girl,” I snorted, tossing my purse onto the nearby table and stepping past her into the kitchen. “Leave some oxygen for the rest of us.”
“It was Tommy?! How?! I looked, he didn’t have the tattoo!”
“Well, if you think about it, it’s easy.” I pulled the fridge open and grabbed a beer, popping the cap off and tossing it into the sink. “Anyone can buy a little concealer and cover up a tattoo.”
“Tommy?!” Why did she sound way more shocked than I was? Maybe part of me had suspected it all along. “Holy shit. ”
I didn’t know what to say.
I didn’t even know what to feel .
All I knew was I had a weird sense of regret that rolled in the pit of my stomach, and tears that prickled just at the edges of my vision, and I didn’t know what to do.
“I told him to leave me alone,” I said, looking down at the beer in my hand. Sighing, I reached over and placed it on the kitchen counter.
I didn’t want it. I wanted to go to bed.
Amelia was pacing now, her heels clicking loudly on the hardwood floor as she tried to process the information I’d dropped on her. I could see the gears turning in her head, the disbelief written all over her face as she muttered to herself. She stopped suddenly, turning to face me with wide eyes.
“So, what now?” she asked.
I shrugged, feeling a strange sense of resignation settling over me. What the fuck was wrong with me?
“I guess we wait and see. Maybe Tommy will take the hint this time.”
Amelia nodded slowly, absorbing my words.
“Is that what you want?”
I scoffed, the bitterness rising in my throat. What did I want? I wanted to erase the memory of Tommy’s tattooed hand gripping my throat, the feel of his tongue, the way it felt with his fingers scorched my flesh, and his lips stole the breath from my lungs. But more than anything, I wanted to feel safe again.
“I don’t know what I want,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I know what I need. And that’s for him to stay away from me.”
Amelia nodded, her expression somber.