Chapter 51 Jonah - Present
fifty-one
Jonah - Present
FOUND.
He’s alive.
A year of not knowing. A year of forcing that day out of my head. A whole fucking year of being without him.
Then he’d sent Harper. I didn’t understand it. Why hadn’t he come himself? Was he unable to? Was he still hurt? Where was he now, and how had they found me? With one big answer, I’d found only more questions.
It had been two days since I’d ditched Harper, once again on the run with no cash or a single possession. All of it left behind except my switchblade and the lighter in my pocket.
The sting of betrayal followed me. I’d trusted Harper.
Trusted the snake. I thought I’d made a friend.
Yet more than the betrayal, there was a twisted sense of relief, because Harper might not have actually given a shit about me, but he was there, which meant that Dex still did.
For some unknown reason, Dex had sent him to me. It had to mean he still wanted me.
But he wasn’t the only thing hunting me down.
There was something bigger. Something worse.
The truth.
The knowledge that he was alive, that I hadn’t killed him, was a battering ram to the shield I’d built around my mind. I told myself I was running from him. That I was afraid of him. That I needed to escape him. My love made him worse.
Lies. All of it.
The shield fractured and crumbled, and the ugly truth couldn’t hide in the darkness and the shadows any longer.
It was never him I was running from. It was myself—what I’d done.
I’d run from the possibility that I’d killed him.
Because if I ran, I didn’t have to face it, I didn’t have to confirm it.
I could live knowing there was a chance.
Of course, there was still the possibility that he hated me now. Why wouldn’t he, when I’d left him bleeding out on the ground? I hadn’t been there when he woke up. I hadn’t been there to help him recover.
He’d know about the fire by now too. He’d know I’d killed his mother.
“I’ll die before I let you go.”
He would still come for me. I just didn’t know if what found me would be the home that I’d left.
Run. The word still echoed.
Stay. A new voice joined it. Let him find you.
The memories circled. The real ghost that had been haunting me all this time.
“It’s time to stop running… It’s time to stop now. I know you’re tired of it. It’s okay to stop.”
“I don’t know how.”
I still didn’t know. But I was more tired of running now than I’d ever been.
Another day. At least tonight I wouldn’t have to sleep in my car. I’d stolen the tip jar from a bar, the cash just enough to pay for a room so I could shower for the first time in days rather than just wash up in a gas station bathroom sink.
I was so fucking tired. Driving with no destination. No plan. No rules. None of it mattered anymore.
I barely registered the heat of the water over my skin. The only clothing I owned was in the shower with me so I could wash them using the motel’s complimentary “lemongrass-scented” body wash.
After I’d hung them in front of the heater to dry, I collapsed onto the bed. I hated the way the sheets felt against my skin, hated the old musty smell that all motels seemed to magically possess. Mostly, I hated falling asleep without his arms around me, or his body slotted perfectly against mine.
Did he miss that too?
The thought prevented my exhaustion from taking hold. It was more pressing than sleep. In the year I’d been gone, had he found someone else to warm his bed?
I was the one who had left him. Yet the thought of him moving on with anyone else sent a wave of nausea through my empty stomach. If he was hunting me down, that had to mean he hadn’t moved on from me. It had to.
The tingle of tears forming in the corners of my eyes gave me something to focus on besides the popcorn ceiling of the room, until they left me, dispersed into my hairline.
I didn’t sleep. The darkness of the room eased as the sun rose and light filtered through the half-closed curtains. Outside, other guests were waking up, getting the fuck out of this piece of shit motel. They all had somewhere to go. A destination. A purpose.
I listened to the footsteps outside my window. The steady clink of something metal against the concrete. It slowed outside my door before continuing on.
How much longer could I keep doing this?
I was tired in ways sleep wouldn’t fix.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand with my alarm. With a groan, I sat up and let the covers fall away.
Another day.
My clothes were mostly dry. The slight dampness made my skin itchy as I dressed. It didn’t matter. It was time to go.
I had nothing else to pack. I’d run out of cigarettes and hadn’t had money to buy more. Still, I pulled the lighter from my pocket, my thumb tracing over the patterns. He’d probably want this back. Probably regretted ever giving it to me in the first place.
Well, he’d have to catch me first.
I put it safely back where it belonged, in its pocket, and made for the door, uncertain where I’d end up tonight, or even what direction I was going to drive in.
Lost in my thoughts, I almost tripped over the bag in front of my room.
Rage sparked in my core that someone would just leave their shit in my way. But then I looked at the bag properly, and rage turned to ice. Because I’d seen it before. It was my bag. The one I’d left behind in Hollow Creek.
“Run, Jonah, run,” said the logical thoughts.
“Find him. He was here. Find him,” said the demons.
My hands gripped the railing, my upper body hanging over the edge as I searched for any sign of him. My eyes flicked over all sources of movement with desperation. A couple in the parking lot, a man walking his dog across the street. No Dex.
I returned to the bag like it was a bomb I didn’t know how to defuse and wasn’t sure I should even try. But what if there was something in there? Some message? Something.
In the next moment I was back in the room, the zipper of the bag busted open and the contents spilled over the bed. My clothing, and a familiar old Bible with the little savings I’d collected still tucked safely in its cover.
My eyes burned. What was this?
A threat? A peace offering? If he was here, why didn’t he just catch me and be done with it?
I shoved everything back into the bag, taking it with me back to my car. Maybe he’d snuck a tracker into the seams of something. I thought about it and decided I didn’t care. He clearly had ways to find me already anyway.
Then I was on the road again. My car sped down the highway as if I had someplace I needed to get to. Further. Faster. As if I could drive fast enough to escape my own thoughts.
The engine hiccuped. My eyes flicked to the fuel gauge to see the needle hovered well below empty. Shit. No, no, no. I just needed to get to the next town. I had money for gas now. I could fill up and keep going. Somewhere. It hiccuped again. Then it groaned. Sputtered. And it was out.
I coasted to the side of the road. Tears of frustration welled and fell, and my head slammed against the steering wheel. The sound of my scream was drowned out by the blare of the horn. Again, I smacked myself against it as if getting angry enough would motivate the fucking car to just move again.
Then I was out. The door slammed as I inhaled a lungful of air just to scream it back out at the dense forest the highway cut through. “FUCK!”
My knees hit the gravel, and I crumbled in on myself. The weight of this, the final hurdle, broke me. I was done. I couldn’t go on anymore.
Let the forest claim me if Dex didn’t find me first.
Nothing happened for a long time—it was just me and the forest, the birds and the wind—until another vehicle approached. Its heavy tires slowed and pulled to a stop a short distance in front of my car.
I really didn’t have it in me to deal with a stranger, even if it was one who had stopped to help me. I was going to tell them to fuck off, snap at them like a starving feral dog snaps at someone trying to feed it.
Footsteps crunched on gravel, the rhythmic clink of metal.
Familiar boots stopped in front of me, out of place with the cane beside them. I followed long legs up, and then I was looking into the icy eyes of my dreams and nightmares.
The first thing I thought was that the short hair suited him. The first thing I felt was overwhelming relief.
Dex.
It was over now. Whatever he wanted to do with me, I was ready.