23. Chapter 23
Chapter 23
Music played quietly, the wind outside interrupting all the best parts of the song playing.
The weather had been placid earlier today, but the pretty pink-stained clouds had long since bled out from the sky, intimidated by violent indigo and black, brought in, ready for a rough night here in upstate Massachusetts.
Rain poured, pounding heavily on my windshield, also interrupting the music I put on to calm me. Speedy wipers shoved it from my view as the car rolled to a stop.
The murky tones of the house ahead seemed deeper, darker than when I was here last, sneaking in and taking Feebee as she slept. Ironically, that was how I would return her.
My eyes veered to her—asleep on the back seat—through the rear-view mirror.
Regret swirled in my stomach over what I was about to do. I took a sip of cold coffee from the cup in my holder. I cringed over the icy taste, and my teeth brushed over my tongue to get rid of it. Regret swirled again, mixing with the coffee, making me feel sick.
I didn’t want to be here, surrounded by giant trees and nothing else but her home in the distance. I didn’t want to return her to it. I wanted to keep her, as fucked up as that was.
Today had been strange.
An optimistic morning became a fucking awful day, later melting away into a blissful evening.
We had laid in each other’s arms, silence keeping us company, and it made me feel like if I stretched, I could find happiness again. I could share it with her and make all her pain fade away.
But her pain would never stay away.
Not with all the bad memories so close by.
Keeping her in my home after what happened there today wasn't fair.
She was struggling. She needed support. Her family could give that, and I could arrange all the things she didn’t have—such as a stairlift and her wheelchairs.
A voice in my head told me my family could support her, too...and they would, Nonna and Ethan.
But in time, she would miss her father, even if she hadn’t spoken of him in weeks.
The thought of her being with him and not me gave me another reason to want him dead.
But I would live with that anger. For her. And he could live, too. For her.
She stirred in the backseat, her light sedation wearing off. It was almost as if this house had given her a warm welcome, or an abrupt one, shaking her to consciousness.
Her eyes blinked at me in the mirror, sleep-hazed and more sultry-looking than they should be. She had some kind of effect on me, and it was growing daily.
But it was time to do the honorable thing for her...for once.
“Mercer, where are we?” her groggy voice asked me. Her arms failed in attempting to lift her weight. Her eyes, twinkling in the darkness, strained to see through the window.
Unease cloaked her, making her sweat beneath the paisley-print sweater dress I had dressed her in, which instantly became itchy. Rounded nails clawed at her skin, stretching out the neck.
My eyes questioned her, my mouth twitching to do the same.
Her gaze found me again. “Why are we here?”
I handed her an already written note, sealed with stamped wax to hide the message inside. She shook as she accepted it, and for that, I held onto it a second too long. I let go, seeing the look in her eyes...hate. Every feeling I thought we shared earlier, the connection, the need to be close to each other, was taken back and snatched away like it meant nothing.
A familiar lie.
She played me at my own game.
And I fucking hated it.
But I couldn’t even lie about hating her since what happened earlier today.
And I wouldn’t let her know that now.
I stepped out of the car. Rain soaked my clothes instantly. I yanked open the back door and pulled her out beneath dark clouds, her bare legs becoming saturated, causing my shirt to cling to me as I wrapped them around my waist.
A gentle click echoed in my ears as I pushed the door shut.
She looked ahead, not holding me or fighting me.
A look of defeat pulled her eyebrows down as her fingers wrapped around my shirt.
It was almost like she didn’t want to be here.
Long strides took us closer to the glow lighting up the front room and the silhouette of a short, stocky man moving around. I stopped dead, feet sinking into the mud.
My stomach rolled, vengeance drifting in my veins. My grip tightened on Feebee’s skinny legs, red mist again clouding my vision and corrupting my actions. I loosened my touch, feeling guilty for the bruises I was giving her. I forced my vision away from the man I hated, to the woman I didn’t. She snuggled into my chest, confusing the fuck out of me. A tear rolled from her eyes. Another followed, calling forth an army of sadness, all rushing to form an alliance with the rain to drown me.
My emotions were already doing that.
I trembled. Shaking it off, I blamed the cold, but I knew the truth.
“Please...” she begged, her voice so delicate and innocent.
I took another step, my feet struggling with moving toward the house.
“No!” Her voice was a whisper and a shout. “Please, don’t.”
She knew of my desire to end her father’s life but didn’t know my plan to hold back. Because all the things I felt for her trumped the hate I felt for him.
Her hand came up, fingers pulled into a fist. I clenched my jaw, ready for the impact, but she didn’t hit me.
She hit herself.
Hard.
In the chest.
And then she did it again.
“No!” It was such a small word, yet it came out so wrong. A sound that sounded like nothing...just noise.
She stopped moving, her pretty blue eyes looking at my mouth.
Feeling embarrassed and frustrated, I let go of one of her legs, letting it dangle. My palm clutched her back, crashing her chest to mine and protecting it.
She hit out at me, inaudible pleas creeping inside my shirt and hiding from my ears as she nuzzled in.
I grew taut, trying hard to listen beyond the sound of rain, wind, and the low hum of music in the distance.
“Please, don’t.”
Was she begging for his life?
Her pleas wouldn’t stop me from killing him. But the fact that she would never look at me the same way had already secured his fate. Because who knew how long I would be able to stay away from her?
No doubt, I would return in a few weeks, offering the pretense of medical exams, which I would give, of course, among other things. Ethan didn’t think I would make it a few weeks, and he couldn’t wait to tell me in his oh-so-annoying voice as I carried Feebee to the car earlier.
“Please don’t make me go back there.” Her words stopped me dead, my feet sinking into the mud. “You don’t hate me that much. Today, you cared.” Her nails scratched at my skin, the thin marks allowing her words to seep in. “I can’t go back there. Please, just take me home with you...or kill me. Just fucking kill me.”
I turned to stone, my eyes flicking between Feebee and the creature who created her. The hate inside me amplified. She didn’t want to go home. And even though she hadn’t told me, I knew there was a very strong reason as to why.
She wasn’t begging for his life.
She was begging for hers.
The hate she felt wasn’t for me.
It was for him, which made no sense, as she had told me back in the cell that he was a good man.
But she didn’t feel that way today.
She would be on her knees begging, if she could. Worshipping me like a god if it meant retreating from this place.
I stepped back, shadows from trees cloaking us, hiding us from view as Stefan stepped forward to draw the drapes. He paused, staring right at my car. But he couldn’t see it, as the lights went off when I killed the engine. The music playing wouldn’t be heard from the house.
I removed her fingers from the strands of hair wrapped around them, ready to remedy her stress. My own hand weaved through her hair, softening the places she fuzzed.
I kept moving back, drifting through the darkness with this woman acting as a second skin.
The drapes closed, and I didn’t hesitate to get us in the car, now that I could open the door and not have him see the internal light that wouldn’t turn off until I closed the door behind us.
She didn’t let go, a bundle of limbs and wet clothes in my lap. She shivered against me. I started the engine, blasting the heater to keep her warm. My hand traveled up her dress, rubbing the cold from her skin. Her fingers moved over me, from my chest to my face, where stubble pricked her skin.
My free hand moved to her face, too. Two fingers beneath her chin forced her gaze on me. She looked away from the questions in my eyes.
What’s wrong? What the fuck did he do?
I was combing through her wet hair with my fingers before realizing it. She didn’t relax, and I didn’t stop.
“Take me home. Your home. I don’t want to talk about it.” Her words were firm, confirmed by tight lips, flaring nostrils, and a million silent tears.
I tried peeling her from me to place her in the passenger seat, but the moment there was any kind of distance between us, even just an inch, she broke apart.
Sobs fell from her mouth, some caught in her chest, making her breaths sharp and painful. She curled in on herself, making herself smaller.
I didn’t fight her for a response. In truth, I didn’t want to hear it. I wasn’t ready. I also wasn’t ready to leave her here alone and upset while I ripped apart her scumbag father with nothing but sharp nails and teeth.
Because I knew.
Deep down, I fucking knew.
She would rather die than go home...and there were only so many things that could have made her feel that way.
I pulled her back in close, knowing what she needed at this moment. Me. Just like earlier. And knowing that I could come back to end this son of a bitch at any time.
And I would be back.
Minutes became an hour before I lifted her from my lap to the passenger seat and ensured her seatbelt was on for safety.
I put the car into drive and coasted down the everlasting driveway, turning the headlights on as we slipped out of view of the house.
The journey home was shorter than it should have been. Our hands were joined in her lap the whole way.
We sped down quiet dirt roads as my mind raced with thoughts of all the ways I could end Stefan.
And not one of them was fucking good enough.