Chapter Nine
Rowan
The house is quiet—too quiet for my liking. Usually, there is some noise happening. Be it Luca in the gym with his music blaring or the guys randomly popping up and turning our house into their own sports stadium.
I lie on the sofa as Roxy lies on top of me; she thinks she’s a lap dog that’s almost one hundred pounds.
Luca had a job and took off yesterday morning.
I’ve only got one text from him, letting me know he made it safely.
I know I won’t get any more contact until he walks through that door.
He’s been on a few jobs since we’ve been together, and it never gets easier.
My anxiety is through the roof as I have to force Roxy off me so I can do something to keep my mind busy.
I could go for a run, but I’ve already done that today. You’d think being out in the middle of nowhere, I’d be a little scared, but if anything, I feel so safe and forgotten by the outside world. This home has become my safe space.
I walk through the house, my hands idle, needing to do something, as my feet take me to Luca’s office.
I creak the door open, peeking in like I’m fixing to be caught.
My hands roam the mahogany wood of Luca’s desk, remembering the night he fucked me on it, and how it ended.
My scar feels like it’s on fire just by remembering it.
Which is stupid; it’s all in my head. It’s a scar, not a fucking limb.
I sit in Luca’s chair, feeling small behind the enormous desk.
His desk is anything but organized, which is weird for him. But I guess he works best in chaos. He needs the mess to fix. Once he gets home, the desk will be put back into order until the next job—a symbolic reference to what he does for others.
Luca keeps nothing locked in here from me. Everything is open; he has nothing to hide, as I go through the cabinet, being nosy.
Not finding anything interesting, I get up and go to his bookshelf; it takes up one whole wall.
Books and files. I roam the books and stop at a file.
Pulling it out, I stop breathing when I see a picture of me working in the coffee shop.
My face is drawn, my eyes are dark. And I know this was before I met Luca, when I was barely surviving, just breathing when I didn’t even want to do that.
I flip through the file. It’s nothing I don’t already know or haven’t seen before, but I wonder why he still has it.
Placing it back on the shelf, I continue down until one sticks out.
My eyebrows draw up when I see the name.
This file is huge; the weight has more to do with me than what's in the manila folder. David Arlo, my father’s name, appears in red ink.
I drop it like it’s on fire; the papers are scattering all over the floor.
Standing still above them like their snakes ready to strike at the smallest movement, I look down on them, not really knowing if I want to look at what lies on those sheets.
My father is the reason for this that happened to me.
My father, the one man who was supposed to protect me with every fiber of his being, is the one who sold me to the devil.
My hands shake as I bend down and pick up the papers.
Not looking at what’s on them, still. Hurriedly placing them into the folder, shoving it back on the shelf, breathing frantically before I run out of the room.
I feel a panic attack coming on. My chest begins to feel tight, and my airway seems like it’s closing.
As I turn the corner, Roxy meets me, her eyes following my every move.
Running down the stairs and out the front door, the evening air welcomes me, trying to cleanse me of the negativity I was just holding in.
I can’t suck in enough air as I pant outside.
Leaning over, hands on my knees, sucking in air that doesn’t feel like it’s filling my lungs.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I remember the cameras surrounding the outside.
As I right myself, closing my eyes, I turn around and enter the house.
Not needing Luca to know something is up.
As I shut the door, my back lies against it as I slide down, falling onto my ass.
I hear the door’s lock engaging automatically after a few moments, before Roxy trots to me, lying down and putting her head in my lap.
I sit there petting her, calming down my panic until it subsides as much as it can.
I’m not sure how long we sit there, but once I finally get up, my ass is numb.
I feel like I’m walking in a haze as I make my way to the kitchen.
I want to feel numb. The only way to do that is with a bottle of wine.
Pouring myself a glass, I drink it without even tasting the flavor.
My only need is to drown the feelings down, but the alcohol does the opposite.
On my third glass, I’m pissed. Forgoing the glass, I grab what’s left in the bottle, and my feet lead me upstairs.
Standing in the office threshold, bottle swaying from my hand, I want to stop myself, but I know I won’t. I need to see what’s on those papers.
Placing the wine bottle on the floor, I pull out the folder and drop to the rug.
The file feels so heavy in my hand. My heart is screaming at me not to open it, but my brain is on a different level—a level of needing knowledge.
I can tell the papers aren’t in order as Luca had them, since they fluttered to the ground earlier. So, I read them one by one. My father’s entire life story is on these papers.
The connection between him and Briggs that we found out from Timothy is laid out in black and white.
Money. My father sold my soul for fucking money.
My eyes widen when I read the amount. Fifty thousand dollars.
That’s how much I was worth to David. Tears well up in my eyes, blurring the words, before I hastily wipe them.
I’ve cried enough tears because of these people.
And I won’t shed anymore. They don’t deserve them.
Flipping through more papers, I find out the new address David now lives at. It’s a hole in the wall part of town, rundown houses and dilapidated trailers. Worse than the part we came from, if that is even possible.
Standing up on my wobbly legs, I walk to our bedroom to grab my cell.
I feel like I’m walking through quicksand; all that goes through my head is fifty thousand dollars. Does he even know what they put me through, what they had planned for me? Does David even care?
I take picture after picture of each sheet of paper, my plan forms. He’s going to find out, and I’m going to tell him about each and every second of it before I steal his final breath from him.
Blood no longer means anything to me. The moment I found out he was the reason for my soul's demise was the moment he ceased to be my father. He is just another man who took what he wanted and didn’t give a shit about the outcome.
He was there when I took my first breaths, and I’ll be there when he takes his last…
I wake on the office floor, the sun heating the room through the window. “Ugh, fuck.” My hand automatically goes to my pounding head as I clamp my eyes shut, needing the sun to go away.
I’m not even fully awake yet, but I feel the tension throughout my body from sleeping on the hard office floor and the wine drunk still roaming through me.
Roxy whines by the office door, needing to go outside and ready for her breakfast. Forcing my body off the floor, I fumble down the stairs and let her outside while I make her food and try to find something for my pounding head.
“Never again,” I promise the empty air. But knowing I’m lying.
Downing some headache relief and a glass of water, Roxy is at the door, scratching to get back inside.
“Sorry, girl,” I coo to her as she walks in and straight to her bowl.
Brewing a pot of coffee, I try to use the counter to hold myself up, needing help to take the stiffness away.
The aroma of the beans fills the kitchen, making my eyes more open.
And in that moment, I decide David has to die.
He’s the last missing piece to my puzzle of fucked upness.
He’s the man who made this all happen to me, and he can’t live without seeing my eyes one last time, eyes that look just like my mother's.
The woman who left me at twelve to deal with David alone.
I hardly think about her, but when I do, this ache forms in the pit of my stomach. How much would my life have been different if she had stayed? And where is Jenny Arlo?
Taking my mug of brown liquid goodness, I head back to Luca’s office.
I search high and low, but there is no file on my mother.
And that pit just keeps getting deeper. After putting David’s file back where I found it, I turn on Luca’s laptop, opening Google, but stop before I type a word.
Shutting it back off, I use my phone to search for what I need, not needing Luca to have any clue about what I’m planning.
I can’t let him know, because he’ll want me not to do it or to help, and I want to do this alone.
This needs to happen as soon as possible.
Thinking the next time Luca goes out of town for a job, that’s when I’ll pull the trigger. Literally and figuratively.
The feeling that once he’s gone, then I’ll be truly able to live is immense.
Who’s to say he’ll never try what he did again?
He’s fed me to the wolves once, and I won, but what happens if he does it again?
Do I have that many lives? I don’t want to take that chance.
I know for me to fully be happy and live the life I want with Luca; David needs to be gone from this world.
I don’t want to constantly look over my shoulders; worry about any children I bring into this world…
if we do. Everything I do from this point on is for the betterment of the future.
With the decision made, I feel lighter.
Typing David's address from the file Luca has on him, he’s about three hours away from us. The same fucking town I ran from has me coming back to it.
Looking at the time on my phone, I could get to his town by late afternoon, scope out his surroundings, and be back home no later than ten tonight.
Gulping the rest of my coffee, the lukewarm liquid giving me the energy I need and the balls to forget how tired and sore I currently am, I make my way out of the office and into our bedroom, smiling when I see the property outside the window, vast and beautiful.
I don’t think I’ll ever get over the view or the love I already have for this place that we call home.
I look at myself in the bathroom mirror for the first time and can't help but shake my head at the tangled mess my hair has turned into and the way my mascara has smeared under my eyes.
Taming my hair, brushing my teeth and cleaning my face, I raid my closet.
After the fire destroyed our belongings, Luca made sure we had everything we needed.
Pulling on some yoga pants, a flannel, and tying up my Doc Martin, I stumble trying to get my damn foot in the other.
Opening my drawer, I pull out my hip holster, placing my knife in its sleeve, before walking to our bed, grabbing my gun and checking the magazine.
When all is well, I place it in its holster, my flannel long enough to cover it, sitting low on my hip.
I don’t plan to need it, but I never leave home without a weapon now.
A girl has to stay protected at all times.
Stepping off the last stair, Roxy meets me, her eyes as blue as mine. Bending down, patting her head, “Will you be okay if you stay outside till I get home?” I ask her as if she’s going to reply.
Grabbing her a bowl of water, she follows me to the back porch, where I leave her.
On the way out the door, I hook my tote on my arm as I throw my cell inside it.
Deciding on Luca’s truck, I take that to blend into the surroundings, not needing his classic car to be an eyesore.
With the turn of the truck key, Silent Theory blasts its chorus of Shaking Cages, the words flowing into my veins, I smile at Lauren’s tree before pulling onto the main road.