CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cardboard Box
SERENITY
I hope Lake decorates his room. I can’t stop worrying about how bare it is as I wait for him and Brooks to arrive. I’m standing on my staircase, glancing back up into the hallway every few seconds, as if I could magically decorate his room in a few short minutes.
The bright yellow daffodils I propped up in there yesterday are the only splash of color, but daffodils don’t describe Lake. I bought them because they represent happiness and new beginnings.
Honestly, I don’t know what Lake is. I know he smells of teakwood, and I recognize he’ll need to bend his legs to fit in the guest bed. I know he likes chicken noodle soup.
What about his mind, though? Will he hang a dead moose on the wall, or a poster of his favorite band? Will he keep his blinds closed or let the sun light up his room? Does his mind pour out of him into decoration like mine does?
Downstairs, there’s a slim table with framed pictures of my family. There’s throw blankets on every comfortable piece of furniture and clutter everywhere… of course. I have flowers in every room, or at least I try to. With my budget lately, a lot of my vases are full of fake flowers.
I’m not sure if Lake will decorate, but I want him to. This is becoming his home as much as it is mine.
There’s a rumble of tires driving up the pavement. A smile works its way onto my face, and moments later, the door pops open. Incoming Brooks with a brown, torn, cardboard box in his hands.
“You left your door unlocked, home alone?” He drops the box on the floor and takes in his surroundings.
“It’s daylight and I’m home.” I shrug.
Brooks turns as Lake strolls through the door. “Serenity left the door unlocked.”
“Angel. Unsafe.” His voice fills my ears, but I don’t answer.
I can’t answer. My throat is tight, and there’s a tense explosion in my lower abdomen. Two weeks ago, I was frowning to myself about if Lake had his own style, and I couldn’t picture him outside of the sweatpants he’d roam around the hospital in, but now he’s here, out of Boston Hope—he’s new.
He’s wearing brand new black cargo pants and a gray t-shirt that looks custom made. The short sleeves are snug mid-arm, and the shirt is so compressed I can make out the firmness of his chest.
I’ve seen that chest. His abs. I’ve seen most of him. I can’t forget it, but I need to.
Lake’s hair doesn’t layer on the tips of his eyelids anymore. He’s looking right at me. His iris’ are two drops of milk chocolate. They suck up my soul as he takes a step in my direction. There’s intensity in the way he strides. Like he needs me to do what he says, but he’s unsure how to ask, and how to make me oblige.
He takes his hand and smooths it over my cheek, leaving half his fingers to curl around my jawline and rest on my neck. The same way he did yesterday, when he linked us together by kissing me. His other hand slides up my waist, and I’m moments away from tasting his lips, fluttering my eyes closed—
“Serenity.”
I yelp. Lake stands at the doorway, cocking an eyebrow at me. Brooks has disappeared somewhere, and I’m not about to be kissed again. Lake is nowhere near me.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I quickly nod my head.
Once Lake finishes rehab and my life isn’t in secret shambles, I need to start dating again. I cannot have silly daydreams as if I’m a crazed high school girl with a crush. Lake is my friend. He doesn’t see me that way, and he shouldn’t, because we’re friends. We’re helping one another get through a rough time, and I don’t like him that way either. I don’t. Like and attraction are not the same.
“Listen, Angel.” He points at the door. “Keep your door locked.”
I choke on my words. “I do, but I’m home, and I was expecting you.”
He actually steps closer to me this time, crossing his bulky arms over his bulky chest. “Neighborhood isn’t the safest. Keep it locked. Always.”
Brooks returns through the front door with a bunch of bags. He charges into Lake’s space, forcing all the bags into his arms. “Not your bell hop, Lakey.”
Lake ignores him. “My room?”
I point to the stairs. “Take the second door on the right.”
He brushes past me. The edge of his arm grazes my shoulder, and goosebumps wash over my skin. There’s something wrong with me. One kiss. It was one kiss. I can’t let one kiss be the reason I lose the last bit of sanity I have.
“We might have a problem,” Brooks whispers. He stares past my head, looking at the now empty upstairs hallway. “I don’t think his overdose was an accident.”
I squint. “What do you mean?”
“He parked his truck blocks away from the takeout place, in a parking lot.” He points to the torn cardboard box on the floor. “Lake doesn’t leave that box. Pictures of us and our sister. Other little things he keeps.”
I take in the worn cardboard box set on my floor. It’s just a box, but it looks cherished. Full and important.
“He’d never abandon his truck either.” He folds his arms. “Not in the dead of winter when it’s frozen, especially at night.”
I asked Lake about his overdose before. For a brief moment, he detached from reality. He assured it was an accident, but parking his truck blocks from the place he overdosed seems a lot more final than accidental.
“Did you ask him about it?”
“Yeah. I questioned why his truck was parked there.” He brushes his twists out of his face. “He shrugged it off, said he was buzzed and left it.”
I shake my head. “He wouldn’t do that.”
No matter how disorientated Lake is, I know there’s a part of him that keeps control of himself. He’d never leave those pictures. It’s not something to hold against him. But maybe part of Lake knew he planned to never see that truck again.
My heart weeps in my chest, pouring out into my bloodstream. The last place he would’ve seen is somewhere unfamiliar. A place where that box of memories wouldn’t be able to draw him away from death, and he wouldn’t need to hold the guilt of losing his life, all while sitting next to it.
“Maybe a moment of weakness, but…”
I finish Brooks’ sentence for him. “Keep an eye on him.”
Brooks bows his head. “More than what you would’ve. And I will too.”
“Show me his room?” He bends forward and picks up the withered box.
“Sure.” I turn, heading back up the steps.
Brooks follows on my heels. I push open the door, and I find Lake with his fingers gently touching the bright yellow daffodil petals. There’s a softness in his gaze. It’s just as sticky as the pollen in the flowers, because with each second passing, it’ll be harder to wash off witnessing this abnormal tenderness from Lake.
“Buddy.” Brooks calls out.
Lake jumps back, straightening his posture and tucking his hands into his pockets. His brother gives him a look, and Lake is quick to death glare him.
“Alright, I need to get going. Work stuff. Meetings. Five meetings.” He shakes his head and lowers the box onto Lake’s bed. “Both of you are good, yes?”
We nod our heads, but Brooks is already on his phone, barely paying us any attention. He walks right past me, muttering something about a property under his breath.
“Oh, Lake?” He peers back around the bend. “I’m talking with the lawyer soon. I’ll see what I can do, alright?”
“Thanks.” Lake says nothing else until Brooks’ heavy feet are charging down the stairs. “Appreciate you for letting me stay here, Angel.”
“That’s no problem.”
He walks to his bed, unfolding the fraying flaps of the box. The first item he drags out is a small framed picture. He glances at me over his shoulder, so I step closer until the glint from the sun is no longer blocking my view.
It’s a picture of Lake and Brooks as kids. Their arms are snugged around a girl similar to their age. Her smile is the same as Lake’s. She has short brown hair and crooked bangs that look exactly like the time my sister cut her hair with no mirror and kitchen scissors.
“There was a lake behind our trailer.” He passes me the frame so I can get a closer look. “That was the second or third time my dad left. Ma would take pictures of us then, trying to prove something to herself.”
My chest throbs, and it takes me a minute to stop looking at the little boy version of Lake. His smile, even here, isn’t reaching his eyes. “Where would you like this?”
He nudges his head. “Next to the flowers, Mrs. Phoenix.”
I pinch my lip between my teeth to halt the grin that tries to spread across my face. I set the photo next to the daffodils, angling it to face his bed.
“Look at this Angel.”
I un-tuck my hair from my ears to shadow my blushing cheeks. Lake is being oddly cute, and I can’t handle it. Not when I know how his lips taste, and how well he kisses.
He shows me a tiny seashell, a chip missing from the edge. “I got this from a beach, my first year in college with Brooks.”
I can’t hide my smile anymore. I take the seashell from his fingers, examining the smooth and pink texture, then I peer inside of the box, curious about his other trinkets, only to discover just how much this little box is holding. Tons of pictures and random objects that call back to memories I’m not aware of.
“You’ve kept your whole life in this box?”
I meet his eyes. That same softness I saw earlier returns to his features, but it doesn’t match his words. “Yup.”
“That’s adorable,” I blurt out.
His jaw falls on the floor. “What?” He snaps it shut. “You’re funny,” he adds, pulling out another framed photo. This one is him in a cap and gown, along with the year of his high school graduation.
“Oh my gosh.” I snatch it from him. “This is going downstairs.”
Pure fear strikes his face. He tries to grab the photo, but I twist myself sideways. So instead, he latches his hands onto my waist.
“Serenity.”
I curl into myself to keep the photo away from him. “It’s going downstairs!”
“That can’t see the light. It stays in the box.” He claps his other hand on my waist, looming right over me with his tall frame.
“It’s cute, Lake! I’m putting it downstairs, next to mine, okay?”
He sets me free. “Your graduation picture is downstairs?”
I slowly spin back. Now the pure fear is striking on my features.
Lake flies right past me and forces me to chase after him. I realize he’d see it eventually, but a Serenity with braces and a huge pimple on her face isn’t what he should spot minutes after moving in.
By the time I get to the bottom step, Lake is already holding my graduation photo. His back is to me. I sneak up behind him and place his picture where mine just was.
“Please don’t make fun of me. I know I look crazy.” I sigh. “Of course, I ended up with a massive pimple on my cheek. My hair was messy from studying all night. I barely had time to get ready, and I don’t look very cute with braces.”
He turns to face me. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean, some people look amazing with braces. I wasn’t one of those people. Which is probably why my parents didn’t want the picture. But highschool was an enormous accomplishment, so I wanted to keep it—”
“Shush, stop rambling.” He lowers his eyebrows. “Your parents don’t have this picture?”
“No, it’s the only copy.” I tip my head. “Well, there’s a smaller one in my living room.”
He mutters something under his breath that I don’t catch. Then he lowers the frame back on the table and descends into the hallway.
“Phoenix?”
He looks to his left and keeps wandering until he finds the living room. The tiny den hides in the back of my home. He pauses at the entrance, pointing to my pile of DVDs and books, in multiple towers all over the floor, just under my TV.
“Why do you not have a bookshelf?”
A small smile twitches on to my lips. “I thought I was the one who asked a lot of questions.”
He pierces me in place with his stare. “You didn’t tell me you read books. Why don’t you have a bookshelf?”
That’s quite the story. Losing my bookshelf was like another piece of my identity being torn away from me. Another part of me that was shut down and tucked away, because I’ve lost the time to enjoy my hobbies.
“I don’t read. I used to read romance all the time in high school, but I’ve been too busy.” I pick at the skin on my thumb. “I had a bookshelf for my DVDs and books, but it broke a while ago. It was just something cheap I got when I first moved, and I haven’t been able to replace it.”
Lake grunts, but then he spots the small picture of me on the slim end-table, and snatches it up. “You should be proud of your accomplishments, Serenity. I’m proud of them.”
I blink, and that’s all I manage to do.
Again, I realize I have no clue how I’m going to grasp this handsome man saying sweet things to me. He’s just being friendly, but any compliment from Lake should be treated like something sacred.
“Thank you, Lake.”
He doesn’t stop there. “I’m keeping this in my room. Damn parents don’t want to celebrate your achievements, I will.”
My throbbing heart bleeds out as an arrow pierces right through it. Yeah. I might have a small crush on my husband. I haven’t felt any attraction towards someone for a while. Since Caleb broke my trust, I’ve put off any romantic feelings, or even holding general interest.
But how could I find Lake unattractive?
“Gonna finish unpacking if you want to join me. Then I gotta clean up these piles.”
I didn’t imagine there was anything wrong with my book piles, but the way Lake is eyeing them down and snarling makes me believe I was mistaken.
I clear my throat. “Sure.”
***
Once Lake started going on a cleaning spree, I left to meet up with my lawyer. I had to lie about a text from Jimena to lessen Lake’s suspicion. Now he thinks I’m on my way to her place. I only realized it was a poor excuse afterwards because the chances of Jimena randomly pulling up to my house are fifty-fifty. If the two of them learn I lied, I’m sure I wouldn’t hear the end of it.
I pull into a parking space outside of my lawyer’s office. When I was here last time, he explained all the evidence collected against me. An ID card, someone with my frame and hair color being spotted at the scene, and my alibi not being reliable whatsoever. Not to mention the stuff found in my car. The regrets I have about selling it will never end.
That meeting made my anxiety the size of the atmosphere. Now, every time I head into his office, I want to flee. Then I just want to keep running, because I didn’t commit a crime and proving myself innocent is way more exhausting than escaping.
But that would only imply I’m guilty. Again, for a crime I didn’t commit.
I knock on the tall tinted glass door.
“Come in!”
My lawyer, Tommy Cooper, is always cheery when he has money in his pocket. Which he often does. Too much money to even fit in his pockets.
I open the door, and his cheek-to-cheek grin wipes off of his face. “Serenity.” His folded hands drop along with his eyebrows.
I sigh and pull my purse in front of me, plucking out the signed cheque, and Tommy’s eyes sparkle when they land on the flimsy paper. I walk up to his desk and hand it to him.
He grins at it, then waves his hand at an empty chair. “Please, have a seat.”
He sets the tiny paper into his drawer. There goes the money I would’ve used for Uber’s and groceries. At least he’s gentle with it, I guess.
“So I checked for any updates on your problem last night, in case you ended up paying me and our scheduled meeting went on as planned.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Sorry, Tommy.”
He clacks around on the keyboard for his laptop. “No worries, dear.”
The suspense builds in my stomach and threatens to explode when Tommy stops clicking around and grunts under his breath. “Right, so they found a plastic bag with traces of the victim’s blood.”
I nod, waiting for him to continue, but he just he stares at me. “Okay?” I say, unsure of how to be feeling.
“Plus a few blonde hairs with no roots, so they can’t be tested for DNA.”
I shudder. “And they’re trying to argue the hair is mine.”
He stares at me again, not saying a word. It makes me squirm in my seat. I almost ask what he’s looking at, but then he opens his mouth. “Yes.”
His spooky baby blue eyes just watch, and I finally get what he’s doing. “Tommy, I told you, I didn’t kill anyone. I had nothing to do with his disappearance. I have no idea who he is.”
He throws his hands up. “I believe you!”
“Do you?” My head slants. “I’m paying you to help prove my innocence. I have told you everything I know. My sister is the one involved with this. We look similar, and we were, except for her being on drugs.”
I keep my eyes locked on him the entire time I defend myself. Even though I don’t want to. My shoulders stay rolled back, and I hold my body still. Even though all I wish is to slouch and maybe have a quick cry.
Tommy relaxes in his seat. “Alright, I just need to make sure.”
I nod. “I’ve told you everything I know, I swear.”
“Fortunately, they lack proof to arrest you.” He follows with the downside. “The bad news is, his family wants still someone arrested, and a dead sister isn’t going to cut it.”
I scratch my forehead. “But I’m innocent. They can’t throw me behind bars for a crime I didn’t commit.”
He hums in agreement. “Yes, but the family is worried. They have money, a lot of it. Their son is like a prize to them.” He sways his head. “They’ll stop at nothing to find him, and if he turns up dead, they will have someone pay the price.”
Tommy sighs, then smashes his fingers around on his laptop. “The cops have no evidence against your sister or anyone else, only you. The hotel room was Mancini’s, and there was limited sign of struggle.”
I play with my hands in my lap. “So, what are you implying?”
Tommy strokes the tip of his chin, his eyes avert from the laptop to my worried expression. “It means that the blood found in the room was likely caused by a weapon the perpetrator brought and took with them, along with the missing man. They found no fingerprints other than his, and the previous renters.”
“Well, that’s useful then.” I bring my shoulders to my ears. “They couldn’t find my fingerprints because I was never in that hotel room.”
Tommy tips his head from side to side. “Yes, that is great, but it’s unhelpful. They found your ID there. There are no other fingerprints to link someone to the crime.”
This is so frustrating. There is little evidence to associate me to the missing person, but no evidence that discredits me, either. If this case goes to trial, I’ll lose my job, it’ll ruin my reputation, and I’ll spend my life in a cell for something I didn’t do.
I want Mancini to be found. I hope he’s alive, and I hope he’s okay. He could even clear my name. Otherwise, I’m screwed.
I’m nothing but nice to people. Why am I being punished for it? I wonder about that often. Did I cause this situation? I’m not greedy. I don’t need much out of life. I just want my freedom.
“Like I said, they still lack the evidence to incarcerate you. There’s no concrete proof of your involvement—no body, no weapon.”
Tommy lays a palm flat on his desk, over a stack of papers. “In addition, Mr. Mancini is a heavy addict. That supports your case, because maybe he just disappeared.”
I pipe up, “so the only current issue is his family. I mean, I don’t blame them. Of course they want to find their son and brother.”
Tommy bows his head.
“Where do we go from here?”
“Well, there’s no significant change, so just continue on with your life and I’ll keep following your case.” As long as I pay him, he forgot to add.
“I’m tired of all of this.” I rub my palms over my thighs.
“I know, Serenity, but we’re building a case against them.” Tommy rises from his seat, and I follow his movements. “As long as you’re innocent, I’ll get you out of this mess.” He places his hand on my upper back and opens the door to his office.
Once I’m in the hallway, I turn to face him, and he smiles ear-to-ear. “See you at our next appointment, Ms. Madden.”
I blink, and he closes the door in my face.
Great.
***
I settle back into the driver’s seat and dial my mom’s number. It rings four times before she answers. “Serenity?”
I hear faint chirping in the background. A thousand memories flow back to me from my childhood. My mother is on our porch with her phone in hand, watching my sister and I play on the front lawn.
She’s likely sitting in the same spot now. Only one of us is dead, and the other she pulls at by threads. So, I had no other choice than to marry Lake. I just handed over my grocery money to discuss how I still might go to jail.
If I go to trial, the only way I’ll keep my lawyer next to me is with Brooks’ money. My parents will never help.
My mum says it’s because of what I did. I sheltered Delilah under my roof. That’s why she’s dead. If I let her experience homelessness, then she would’ve found her way out of a meth addiction. The outcome of my life results from my actions, according to my parents.
I want my mother to be proud of me. I admit I crave her validation, but I can’t seem to let that go. She raised me and she does love me. So does my father. I can’t imagine how it must feel that I’m their only child, but I was never meant to be.
“Hi, Mum.” I fold my lips between my teeth and flutter my eyes as I prepare myself. It’s better to just rip the bandaid off. “I got married.”
Her end of the line turns into repetitive, shocked gasps and unfinished sentences.
“I told you, Lake and I have been dating for a while,” I lie. “We tied the knot.”
“I–I don’t know what to say.” My mother sighs, and I hear a car pulling into her driveway. “Your father is home.”
“Oh. Can you tell him I said hello?” I ask.
Silence.
She tells my father the news, and all I hear is a grunt. “Your father is upset.”
“Sorry.” I wince. “Um, I also just got out of a meeting with my lawyer.”
Silence.
I tap my finger against my car door, and I know she’s repeating the same movement on her chair. “Alright. Your father and I will come to your house for dinner tomorrow.”
My tapping comes to an abrupt stop. “What?”
“Do you not want us to meet your husband, Serenity?” She huffs. “I wish I could’ve watched your sister get married.”
“Okay, mum. I’d love to see you.” My eye twitches. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”
The last time I saw her was at Delilah’s funeral. Since then, I’ve only been able to reach her through phone calls. I’ll need to talk to Lake about them coming over, but I’m sure he won’t mind. I just hope he’ll accept faking his identity for the sake of my parents’ approval.
“Yes. Bye Serenity.”
Okay. So no lawyer talk today. “Bye mum, I love you!”
She hangs up the phone. I take a deep breath, toss my phone next to me, and back out of my parking spot. I was never the favorite child, but I’ll keep trying to be. With a smile plastered on my face, I force my emotions away from surfacing. I refuse to let my mother’s actions show on my features. I’ll retain all my worries to myself.