Chapter 25
CALEB
Since when do I own a clock?
The ticking slams against the inside of my skull. Too loud. Too steady.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
I groan, rolling onto my side, and reach for my phone on the nightstand, brushing cold sheets instead. The fabric is unfamiliar. Too soft, too clean. My hand slams against the edge of the mattress, finding empty space where something should be.
Someone clears their throat, startling me.
“Morning.” A woman’s voice. Distant. Muffled.
Am I still dreaming?
I squint one eye open, then the other. Sunlight streams in through the window, blinding me. It’s too white in here. Why is it so damn bright?
A figure steps into the light.
“Maeve?” I scrub my hands over my face, glancing around the too-bright room. “What are you—wait.” I hold up a hand. “Why are you at my house? What time is it?”
I reach again for my phone. It’s not there. Neither is my nightstand.
I’m also not in my bed. Or my house.
That’s just fucking great. What did Asher do now?
No, wait. I don’t want to know.
Maeve steps closer, the floorboards creaking under her weight. She hovers a couple metres away, hands twisted in front of her.
Twisting. Unwinding. Twisting again.
Her face falls, the morning light highlighting the worry creasing the skin between her eyebrows. “You don’t remember anything?” Her tone is hesitant, like I’m about to break.
What exactly am I supposed to remember?
Coming to Maeve’s house in the middle of the night and passing out in her bed?
Nope. Nothing.
I don’t need to remember, though. The knot tightening in my chest tells me everything.
Exhaling, I push myself up against the headboard, the room spinning slightly. “How long have I been here?” I answer her question with another question, because quite frankly, I don’t think I can handle the truth yet.
“All night,” Maeve says softly, but there’s a hint of guilt in her tone.
Of course I was.
Jesus, my head is killing me, and my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton wool. Plus . . . I’m pretty sure I’m about to throw up, and that’s never a good thing.
She takes another step closer, picking at the skin around her thumbnail. As much as I want her to climb into my lap and tell me everything is fine, the sinking feeling in my gut tells me everything is not fine.
Far from it.
Once again, I was a passenger in my body, trapped inside my head with no fucking windows.
I nod, dragging a hand through my hair. “Let me guess,” I mutter, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. “Asher?”
I’m not even surprised. Not anymore.
Whatever he’s dragged her into, it’s already changed everything. It was only a matter of time before he sank his claws into her. Even with my warnings, she let him pull her under.
Maeve drops onto the mattress beside me, taking my hands in both of hers. She stares at our interlocked fingers, her lips parting like the words are right there, but refuse to be spoken.
Well, this isn’t awkward at all.
I try to recall the events of last night, but it’s like grasping at smoke. The more I reach for the memories, the faster they dissipate.
I run my tongue over my dry lips. This isn’t how I pictured waking up in Maeve’s bed again.
“I’m sorry,” she finally says, her voice small, her eyes searching mine. “Are you okay?”
Is she going to tell me what she’s sorry for? Or are we playing a game where I guess what sort of fucked-up shit Asher did this time?
I already know I’ve lost.
My sanity ran for the hills months ago. It’s only now I’m just realising it.
“I . . . I don’t know,” I say, my voice cracking around the edges.
The admission feels like defeat. Like another piece of my life slipping away.
“It just . . . happened.” Maeve chews the corner of her bottom lip, guilt etched into every line of her face.
I pull my hands from hers, and scrub them over my bare thighs. “Would you like me to tell you it’s fine? I’m great at pretending most of the time. But this . . .” I shake my head and stand.
The cool air hits my bare skin, and I glance down.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Brilliant. Now my dick’s got a mind of its own, too. Where the hell are my clothes?”
Nothing like waking up to find your alter ego had a better night than you did.
“They . . . well . . .” She winces, clearing her throat, her face flushing. “They’re . . . covered in blood.”
I huff out a breathless, humourless sound. “Of course they are. Anything else I need to know?” I raise an eyebrow.
This couldn’t get any worse. I’m standing in front of her, completely bare, my hard-on now softening. It’s not that I’m angry.
No. Scratch that.
I am fucking angry.
But more than that, I’m disappointed.
Not in Maeve.
In myself.
I should’ve seen this coming. Should’ve protected her better. But she wants her answers. And Asher’s the only one who can give them to her. He only shows me what he thinks I can handle, which isn’t much considering I’m nothing but a vessel for his brand of psycho.
He’s controlled every part of my life for as long as I can remember. The fact I thought I could keep this one thing—her—for myself?
Yeah . . . that’s on me.
Maeve drops her gaze to the floor. “Do you . . . really want to know?”
Fuck no, I don’t want to know.
“No. Of course not, Maeve.” I throw my hands up, pacing like a caged animal. They had sex, didn’t they? “Fuck . . .” The words hang in the air between us, strangling their hold just a little tighter. “It’s probably best I leave,” I say softly, meeting her gaze.
I want to reach out, to smooth away the lines of worry. But I can’t.
Where do we stand now that my psycho alter-ego has staked his claim? With my dick, mind you.
How messed up is that.
“Can we talk about it?” Her slender fingers find the rumpled sheets, and she grips onto the fabric like her life depends on it.
My gaze floats to the unmade bed. Did they . . . do it, right there? My mouth fills with saliva. Nope. Not even going there.
I suck in a deep breath, the air heavy with the scent of coffee and something else. Fear, perhaps. My own, or Maeve’s. Probably both.
Rubbing my forehead, I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m going to regret what comes next. My stomach doubles over, twisting the knife of betrayal just a little deeper.
“I just . . . need some time.” The words drop between us like stones.
Maeve’s eyes widen, and she opens her mouth as if to say something. Instead, she closes it again, wrapping her arms around her waist.
She’s hurting, I know that much. But I’m fucking hurting, too. All of this is just too much.
The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall seems impossibly loud in the quiet room.
It ticks . . . and ticks . . . and ticks. Louder. Louder. Like a hammer against the inside of my skull. Like it’s counting down until everything I know is no longer real, only a distant memory, hazy and unfocused.
A sour burn rises into the back of my throat. I should leave. Give myself time to evaluate this fucked up situation I seem to have found myself in.
So . . . why the hell can’t I move?
I exhale, raking a hand through my hair, and glance down at my flaccid penis. “Can I at least put some clothes on before this conversation?”
Asher is right. I am weak.
Maeve’s lips quirk up in a small smile. Either she’s doing it on purpose, or like me, she’s barely holding it together. Either way, I can’t help how my heart gallops in my chest at the sight of her.
“I’ll get the spares from your car,” she says, jumping up and racing out of the room.
There’s no time for me to argue.
I sigh, letting my shoulders fall. “Fantastic,” I mumble.
This is the worst Airbnb experience of my life.
Maeve shuffles back into the room a minute later, my bag of spare clothes clutched to her chest. She hands it to me, her dark eyes searching mine.
“I’m sorry,” she says, drumming her fingers on her thighs. “Thank you for staying.”
How am I supposed to tell her I hate that she slept with Asher, when everything inside me wants to pull her to my chest and tell her I forgive her?
If this is what falling in love looks like, do I really want it?
I inwardly groan. Yes, I fucking want it. I’ve never wanted someone with every fibre of my being. She’s a magnet, my lifeblood. The goddamn oxygen I need to breathe.
So, yeah, I want it. Otherwise, I’ll die.
I change into a pair of sweatpants, my back to her, fingers fumbling with the drawstring like it’s a live wire.
She’s watching me, but I don’t dare look at her. Not yet. The last thing I need is to fall back into her orbit when I’m already free-falling.
We stay in silence, our unspoken words hanging heavily in the air between us. There’s no easy way to start this conversation, so I suppose I’ll go first.
“Maeve,” I say, rubbing my hands together like I’m pumping myself up for some big performance. “I know Asher’s your dark answer man or whatever, but I can’t keep doing this. Waking up with no clue what he’s done—or what I’ve done—is eating me alive.”
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, and she swallows hard. “Caleb, I?—”
“No,” I say, cutting her off, but not unkindly. “You don’t get it. You’ve got this . . . this connection with him. But he’s dangerous. And I don’t mean ‘I forgot to water my plants’ dangerous. I mean ‘scalpel and body count’ dangerous. And now you’re—what?” I shake my head, heat rising in my chest. “Tagging along for the ride?”
Maeve throws her hands up, the tension in the room snapping like a rubber band. “I don’t have a choice, Caleb! Don’t you think I’d rather be anywhere but here, digging into this nightmare? But every lead I’ve followed so far has led me nowhere. Bethany’s just . . . gone. No trace of her, like she never even existed.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and she presses her fists to her thighs, her knuckles turning white.
I want to argue. There’s always a choice. But the rawness in her voice guts me. Instead, I pinch the bridge of my nose and drop onto the bed, the mattress sinking under my weight.
“Look,” I say, my tone softer. “I get it. I really do. But Asher isn’t a solution. He’s a damn grenade without a pin. You think you can control him? Direct him? He’ll kill you before he ever lets that happen.”
Her jaw tightens, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s not about control. It’s about survival. You’ve seen what’s on those files, Caleb. You know what’s at stake here. Asher is doing what no-one else has the guts to do.”
I laugh, the sound hollow.
Typical Asher, infiltrating my life in every way possible. Now he’s even got Maeve convinced he’s some sort of morally grey hero.
No. He’s darker.
He’s pitch fucking black.
“You really think so, huh? Okay, well who am I to argue with that?” I shake my head and stand, moving towards the door.
“Yes, I need him, Caleb,” Maeve calls out. “Because he doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t care. And right now, I need someone who can do the things I can’t.”
I freeze, my entire body tensing up. My hands clench at my sides.
Her words sting, but they’re not surprising.
She’s willing to sell her soul to the devil. She just doesn’t realise she’s handing him mine, too.
Sighing, I turn back around. “And what about you, Maeve?” I say quietly, meeting her gaze. “What happens when you’ve carved away every piece of yourself to survive, and there’s nothing left of you , only the monster staring back?”
Her breath hitches like I slapped her. “I’m already lost, Caleb.” She lifts her chin, defiance sparking in her eyes. “This . . . whatever this is, it’s the only way I can make sense of it all. The only way I can find her.”
“And after?” I raise an eyebrow, stepping closer. “After you’ve found your answers, and you’ve burned through every lead, every name on your list? What then? Do you think Asher will just step back and let you live your life? Because I can tell you right now, that’s not how he works.”
She doesn’t respond, her silence speaking volumes.
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Maeve, I want to help you. I do. But this . . . this path you’re on with Asher. It’s a dead end, and it’s going to take you down with it.”
Silence stretches with each passing second, like that goddamn ticking clock. She knows I’m right, the knowledge simmering just behind those dark eyes of hers.
She closes the distance between us, and takes my hands in hers, bringing them to her lips. Her eyes meet mine as she presses soft kisses to my knuckles, something I’m coming to believe comforts her.
It comforts me, too.
“I need you too,” she says, her voice trembling. “I need you to remind me who I am. Of who I was, before all of this.”
Great. I’m her emotional anchor. That’s not terrifying at all.
Still, the vulnerability in her voice twists my insides, and for a moment, I forget about Asher, about the blood and the chaos, and my lost memories. It’s just Maeve, standing in front of me, asking for something I’m not sure I can give her.
“I don’t know if I’m enough,” I say, my voice low, quiet.
“You are,” Maeve says, her eyes darting between mine. Her grip on my hands tightens, grounding me. “You’re the only thing keeping me from falling apart.”
I hold her gaze, the weight of her words pressing down on me. “Maeve, I’m not Asher. I can’t promise you answers or revenge or whatever it is you’re looking for. All I can promise is me.”
“That’s all I need.” A small smile tugs at her lips. It looks a lot like hope. “I don’t need you to be like Asher. I just need you. Only you.”
I almost believe her. Maybe I can be enough.
My fingers tighten around hers before I can stop myself.