Chapter 10 Gwen #2
“You and me both.” Those headlights were getting closer, meaning our paths would probably cross before we made it to the cabin. “But, hey, worst-case scenario, if she does see you here, tell her you fell down the stairs or some shit.”
“In the average place, that would work,” Simone said. “But we all know the stupid lies we told everybody back then. Rhiannon will see right through, ‘I fell down the stairs.’”
That she would.
“It’s bullshit you’re in a position where you even have to think about that again,” I said under my breath.
“Makes it more real I guess. But I don’t know. I’ve never stopped thinking about it. Have you?”
Almost a year since I’d left. Not a day had passed when I didn’t think about it.
My phone dinged from my hoodie pocket in the back seat.
Some shuffling sounded. Simone said, “Sebastian says that he thinks you’d like this song.”
Through the speakers, the background music I’d had on changed. And I immediately recognized it. The Warmth by Paris Paloma.
There came that damn smile.
He listened to Paris Paloma? I guess it checked out for an artsy guy associated so closely with a radical feminist like Rhiannon. Still not what I’d expected.
“Tell him this is one of my favorite albums in modern music history,” I said.
A moment or two of silence passed. “Done. Is this what you guys talk about?”
“Mostly. And obscure painters we find online.” Those headlights were brighter now, closer. But they were stationary.
“Why don’t you tell me about obscure artists you find online?” Simone’s voice had a whiny, yet playful twinge to the edge.
“I send you music all the time.” Rounding the bend carefully, noting how icy it was, I watched those headlights like my life depended on it. “You just don’t send any back.”
“Touché.”
A big black Range Rover was parked in my driveway.
“Shit,” I said.
“What?” Simone asked.
“Stay down, and be quiet,” I said. “Axel’s outside my place.”
“Shit,” she said in the same tone. “Just lock your doors when you get out. I’ll wait a few minutes and leave after you.”
“If I lock the doors, it’ll set the alarm.”
“Lock the doors, set the alarm, get him out of here, and then unlock the car once he’s gone.”
Not the worst plan I’d ever heard. “Fine. But seriously. Shut up.”
Silence.
I pulled into my driveway.
As I stepped from my vehicle, Axel jumped from his.
Little brown curls snuck out from beneath his red beanie, all covered by his thick, black puffer coat.
As beautiful as Axel was with his angled jaw covered with a five o’clock shadow, strong nose, and big brown eyes, his cinched brows always made him look angry.
They weren’t all that thick. Simone waxed them weekly.
His forehead just crunched them down into his eyes.
Now more than ever.
Axel charged at me like a wolf after a bunny. “Have you talked to Simone?”
“Earlier,” I said, tossing my purse over my shoulder. “She said she got invited to a last-minute conference in the city or something?”
“She told me that too.” He crossed his arms against his chest, squinting me over. “But she didn’t tell me shit else. No one did.”
Cocking my head to the side, my stomach did that spinning thing again. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Bullshit,” he said, in the same tone I had read that text in earlier. Could it have been Axel? Had he seen something last night? “Something’s up, and you know it.”
It took everything I had not to swallow hard and swat at the bead of sweat forming above my brow. “What?”
“Margaret told me she came here last night,” he said. “Rhiannon told me about her meltdown at group, but she didn’t come to me to talk about it. She came to you.”
Did he know? Was he dancing around the whole truth for the same reason I was? Because neither of us wanted to admit it?
I loved Axel, but he was a smart, abrasive man. Any stereotypes that said gay men were sweet and feminine were laughable where Axel was involved.
Thinking back on those texts, I couldn’t hear his deep, raspy voice saying any of them. Admitting to his involvement, whatever that involvement was with the body, was something he would take to his grave. He and I had that in common.
“She did,” I said. “She came over, and we talked. Had a few drinks, passed out, and went on to work in the morning.”
Axel crossed his arms against his chest. “What did you talk about?”
“I mean, if you were upset, and you came to me to talk about it, I wouldn’t run my mouth about it to someone else.” I crossed my arms against my chest too. “But you could call her and—”
“Something happened,” he snapped, stepping closer.
Now he looked more like a mom confiding in her best friend about her child being bullied at school.
His brows were still furrowed, but his eyes were soft beneath them.
“If she threw a bitch fit at group and insulted everyone there, then decided to leave town for a week without telling Junie goodbye first, something happened.”
“I wouldn’t say she threw a bitch fit,” I said, stalking toward my cabin. “And she didn’t just abandon her kid. Junie was already at school when she got the offer. It was a good opportunity, so she—”
“Stop lying, Gwen. You’re not good at it.”
“And you’re not good at salting the road.” I gestured behind me. “I slid, like, half a dozen times on my way up here.”
“Quit diverting.”
“Quit asking me to betray my friend’s confidence.”
“I just want to know if something happened to her. If it did, that’s what she told you about last night. So is that—”
“Fine.” I threw my hands in the air. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But don’t tell her I told you.”
Primarily because I knew he wasn’t going to back off, and I needed a few milliseconds to come up with a good lie.
Leaning back, he glanced me over, waiting for me to continue.
“Promise,” I said. “Promise you won’t tell her I betrayed her confidence.”
“I promise.”
“Because, she was really upset, and if she had wanted to talk to you about it, she would have, but she came to me for some reason, and—”
“I get it. She asked you not to tell anyone. I won’t tell her you did. Just get to the damn point, Gwen.”
“Something happened at work,” I blurted.
“When she was outside on her smoke break, she saw a couple fighting. She got really triggered by it, and it just blew up. She couldn’t get it out of her head all day, and she had a few panic attacks, and it was just a mess.
It was the first time since she got here that she really broke down, and she was embarrassed, and upset, and angry, and she just wanted to talk to someone who got it.
Someone who’s been there. Then she got that opportunity to leave town for a week, and she figured it would be a good place to get her head on straight.
She doesn’t want Junie to see her like that. ”
His expression didn’t change. Neither did mine.
There were three possibilities.
1. Axel was the anonymous texter, and he knew I was lying. The point of this discussion was to see if I would confess. Doing so would endanger us both. He was relieved that I continued to lie.
2. He was not the anonymous texter, but he was worried about our mutual friend. He came to me hoping for more context. Now that I’d given it to him, he believed me and was relieved.
3. He was not the anonymous texter, he was worried about our mutual friend, he came to me for more context, but he didn’t believe a word that came out of my mouth.
I hoped it was the second possibility.
“She was okay though?” he asked. “When she left this morning, she was okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “She was alright.”
“You know she has really bad depression, right?” His expression and tone remained the same. Blunt, assertive. “I don’t think she would do anything crazy. She wouldn’t abandon Junie. But depression is a screwed up disease.”
Was he worried she was going to kill herself? I didn’t see that happening.
“She needed a girls’ night,” I said. “But yes, she seemed better this morning. I’m sure she’s gonna be alright. She just needed a couple days away to get her head on straight.”
No change in his demeanor. I couldn’t tell which of those possibilities was the case.
He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Whatever. I’ll talk to her about it when she gets back. You coming down to town tonight? Rhiannon wanted to talk to you. Said she stopped by earlier, but you weren’t here.”
“I don’t think so. I’m exhausted. My four hour, easy shift wound up taking seven. My back’s killing me, and I still need to cook something for dinner.”
“I’ll let her know.” Walking to his car, he spoke over his shoulder. “She’ll probably want to talk to you at breakfast.”
Or she would show at my door in the next few hours, only to find Simone sleeping on my couch.