Chapter 31 Ledger
LEDGER
Ibarrel down a low-lit stretch of road, high beams slicing through the quiet dark as the view behind me blurs and thins to nothing. The terrain shifts as I veer past the edge of town, a flat sprawl of shadows and stagnant silence, void of lights and borders.
Just rust and empty air.
The wheel rumbles under my grip, tension vibrating along my limbs, the kind that I usually do well to ignore, but the thought of her being in this place alone, vulnerable and unprotected, snaps the last thread that holds me steady.
Strobes of carmine and cobalt break the endless depth, pulsing in tandem across the asphalt. My stomach drops before it coils.
Aria.
My foot sinks harder on the pedal, not too heavy, careful not to raise any issues up ahead, but enough to carry me there quicker, the unrest taking claim over me as I bridge the gap. The signal on my phone hasn’t moved. She’s still there; the cops parked like sentries behind her.
An officer in uniform steps out the side of his vehicle as he catches me approaching, my headlights shifting in their direction, pinning me as a target.
Against my natural aversion, I approach him, my jaw stiff as my eyes flick away from him to her car.
Her silhouette glows through the contained light inside, head bowed, then whips to the side as she hears my tires grind over stray gravel on the broken pavement.
The whites and rims of her eyes gleam through the barrier, bloodshot and stark.
Fucking hell.
I thought she’d be safer with her car finally back. That she wouldn’t need me hovering behind her, shadowing her every minute of the day now that her mom’s back in the picture.
That’s why I didn’t text. Didn’t try to call her again.
So I could finally quiet the gnawing dread at the back of my head, that part that said this was manipulation on my part.
Somehow, I’d managed to shove aside the guilt from that night I caught her outside alone, away from her classmates, where she should’ve been having the time of her life, but instead was being blackmailed. Threatened. Someone else’s target.
She needs me, and in this moment, that is all it takes to hush the corrosive noise in my head, the one telling me to stay away, to let her go. I convinced myself it was for the best. That if I stayed, I could feed into this fucked-up attachment that not only I have…but she does, too.
I’m not an idiot. I know the situation at hand, what has sparked between us and exactly when it bloomed. There isn’t a need to label it. The signs are obvious, textbook. The trauma I’ve put her through is what bonded us.
It’s exactly what I feared it being. Contrived. Coercive. Forced.
Born out of survival.
I don’t want Aria to keep clawing her way through survival. I want her to thrive. But deep down, I know she won’t, not with me dragging her into the same fire that’s been eating me alive for the past decade.
Killing my engine, I step out into the late spring breeze, my fists at my sides as the rangy officer steps forward, his flashlight cutting across the dark between us.
“You here to pick her up?” he asks, his other hand propped near his utility belt. His pale eyes crease at the corners, reflecting authority beneath the moonlight, but not hostility.
I give a curt nod and jerk my head toward her. “I came as soon as she called.”
“Look, I’ll keep it brief and tell you exactly what I told her,” he says.
“She’s not in any serious trouble, just got a citation for not having her license on her.
Honestly, the scare she took prior to me showing up was enough.
This place is littered with homelessness and addicts.
Not a great place to drive around in, especially at night.
She’s lucky I was still around out here doing a quick sweep so I could wait until someone came for her. ”
“I appreciate that,” I tell him, reminding myself to unclench my teeth before the ache in my jaw travels to my head. She’s fine now. I’m just grateful someone was watching out for her, even if it’s someone dressed in the devil’s uniform, blue and black, the beacon they all still believe in.
Aria’s still watching us anxiously, her lips caught between her teeth, the same way she looked during the few times I flicked my eyes over to check on her.
She’s probably still on edge from everything that’s happened, or maybe afraid the cop’s starting to piece something together from us standing side by side, not realizing that’s not how it works.
It takes reason, a cause, some kind of lead to follow.
None of which they have. That’s not why this particular police officer is here.
To him, I’m just some guy she’s called to pick her up.
I give him a tight-lipped smile, one I’m barely holding together, ready to get through the interaction. “I’ll make sure she gets home just fine.”
My eyes drift to her car again, his own eyes tracking it, too. “About the car. It won’t be towed or anything, but people tend to pick apart what’s left out too long around here, but it’s up to you how you guys want to handle that. Whether it’s now or when the sun is out.”
“Got it,” I say, giving a sharp incline of my head. I’ll figure her car out later, after I make sure Aria is safe and secure and I get her out of here.
He takes a beat to look everything over before his eyes land back on mine, his head slowly bobbing. “Well, alright then. If you don’t have any other questions for me, you two are set to go.”
Thank fuck. Felt like he was never going to finish his speech.
My insides recoil as I play along, lips pulling into a stiff smile as I wave him off, only for him to glance over his shoulder at the last minute.
“Oh, and by the way—”
Fucking hell.
“Next time either of you needs to clear your head, try opting for a walk around the block instead. It’s what I tell everybody. Safer.”
“Will do,” I clip, already jabbing my thumb at the keys to unlock my car.
He chuckles as he climbs into his own and flashes his lights, then pulls away, his tires cracking over stray gravel. I wait long enough to make sure he’s gone before my gaze shifts back to Aria. Then past her, to my car, parked just behind.
Without a word, she catches on, stepping out and walking the short stretch toward me. Her legs tremble faintly as she reaches for the handle.
I round the hood and slide into the driver’s seat just as she pulls the door shut beside me.
She doesn’t look at me when she climbs in, settling into the passenger seat with the kind of ease that makes it feel inevitable. Like the space was waiting for her, tailored to nobody else but her.
“Thank you for coming,” she whispers. Her eyes stay on her lap, fingers fidgeting in that old nervous habit of hers, but what strikes me more than that is how the tremors start to fade, gradually, as she settles in.
The tension still lingers, but it’s softened now, muted beneath the quiet comfort of our familiarity.
“What happened?” I ask, calm and patient despite the nerve ticking along my jaw. She could’ve gotten hurt while I wasn’t watching, wasn’t aware. But she didn’t. She called me.
Her bottom lip wobbles before she catches it between her teeth, cautiously lifting her head to look into my eyes, misted and gutted, my heart cinching at the sight of her pain.
“He’s back,” she says, her voice tight and raw from the cataclysm of tears she’s already shed. “My mom’s ex, Steven—h-he’s back.”
A harrowing beat passes between us, filled only by her raw, stifled sobs, each one adding to the acute jab that stabs the base of my throat as I struggle to swallow. “The one who touched you as a kid?”
The tip of her nose flares as she uses her sleeve to scrub at it, lashes batting furiously to wipe away the gut-wrenching droplets clinging to them.
“I-I tried calling a friend f-first, but she didn’t answer, and I didn’t know w-what to do.”
My hand instinctively flies out to capture her chin, propping it higher between my thumb and index until her gaze is level with mine. “You did right by calling me.”
Her chin quivers as she nods, the tears that had collected there now dripping onto my fingers, like acid burning into my skin, branding me with her essence, her pain.
My chest constricts, equal parts aching for her anguish and revering the beauty and strength she always makes space for beneath the suffering.
The way her cheeks flush, the slope of her nose tinged the same crimson, skin luminous under the glassy sheen of tears always mesmerizes me. There’s something fragile in her sorrow. A softness I am bound to ruin eventually.
If I’m not too careful, one wrong move could snuff out her flame for good.
She needs someone better than me to guide her through this moment. Someone conventionally good. Someone who won’t smother her light with the weight of my history or the violence I’ve grown fluent in. The same brutal language her mother’s ex would most certainly understand.
But there’s nobody else here besides me.
“I’ll kill him,” I conclude, severing the beat of silence between us.
Her eyes widen, her breath hitching as she retracts from my touch, but I tighten my grip on her chin, keeping her there, my jaw flexing tight. “I’ll do it for you. If that’s what you want.”
It’s what I want.
My teeth gnash together as I picture the swine capable of harming a young girl, someone who should’ve seen her like a daughter, treated her with care.
Violent rage flickers behind my eyes, dragging me back to my younger self, to the helpless way I reacted to my sister’s confession. The day our lives fell apart. Frankie’s sobs scorched into my memory like a branding iron, searing the truth somewhere permanent, never to be forgotten.
The crash that killed our parents. The police reports painting them as victims. All of it, still circling back to haunt me.
For months, I wrestled with our father’s premature death, choked by the lack of justice. The lack of accountability. The only revenge left to seek was in the form of pitiful strangers, men and women who hid their ugliness behind a veneer of charm, just like he had.
But no amount of death was ever enough to quell the pain of the past. It will never be enough.
Because it isn’t him.
It’s too late for me and Frankie, but not for Aria. Not yet. I can make Steven suffer. If she wants.
All she has to do is ask.
She heaves in a jerky breath, her whole body stiffening, but I can hear the frantic beat of her heart, matching my own. We’re that close. Her eyes dip to my lips, lingering. Her throat works in a swallow, the memory of our last kiss resurfacing, hanging in the air between us. “Ledger…”
Husky and breathless, the sinful, soft sound of her voice pours straight into the ache straining my pants as a sharp breath sucks in through gritted teeth.
“Aria,” I warn, my tone clipped and ragged, helpless to the intoxicating scent of florals that’s always clung to her since the season’s turned.
Her heat radiates into my hand as she leans closer, her tongue slipping out to wet her lips.
My eyes follow the motion. My cock pulses, my body aching to lean in and take her mouth with mine.
Her eyes glaze over as they lift back to mine, a deep, warm brown thawing the iciness in my steely grays, the way only she can.
I swore I’d stay away, but each time, her voice scrapes through me, digging into the deep crevices of my heart like talons. A siren call I keep chasing.
“I can’t go back home,” she says.
Catching my breath, I break our eye contact, clearing the roughness from my throat as I shift gears and fix my eyes on the road. “Don’t worry. I’m not taking you back.”