CHAPTER 8 #2
“How about Holly Jennings?” Astrid digs into the box and pulls out a leatherbound journal. The pages are frayed and yellow. She passes the book to me. “She wrote a ton of letters to someone named Lottie.”
“I knew Holly,” I whisper, feeling my throat tighten. I open the journal to the first page, and my suspicions are confirmed.
Dear Lottie,
First day at the new job! So exciting. I can’t wait to tell you all about it when I get home. I know you didn’t want to move, but I’m sure Danver Hills will grow on you.
“Sparks?” Astrid shakes my shoulder. I ignore her and continue reading.
The work I’m doing here at Synergy Labs is important.
It’s been my dream to use my physics doctorate to better the world, not simply optimize engineering to increase profits.
That was my old job, but this, the research I’m doing now, it actually matters.
If progress means we have to move to rural Pennsylvania, I think that’s a risk the two of us have to take.
All of my coworkers are excited to meet you. They’ll give us time to settle in, but they’re trying to persuade me to throw a housewarming party. I think it’s a marvelous idea. And who knows, you might enjoy hanging out with their families?
This move is going to be good for us, Lottie. I can feel it. I hope you feel it too. Just know that I love you more than anything in the world.
I thumb through the journal. It’s full of letters. There must be close to a hundred, if not more. I force myself to swallow the lump in my throat.
“You’re Lottie, aren’t you?” Astrid whispers.
“It’s what my mother called me.” I nod, still in shock. “Short for Charlotte. She always said that Charlotte was my public name, but Lottie, that was just for the two of us.”
“I’m so sorry.” She places her hand on my back. “I should’ve figured that out earlier. I can’t believe I just dropped these on you like that.”
“No, it’s fine.” I shrug off her hand. “I didn’t know she wrote these, but it doesn’t matter. These look to be more like diary entries than real letters anyway.”
“Sparks, it’s okay to feel sad.”
“It’s late.” I stand up, placing the journal on an end table. “There’s a spare room you can stay in overnight, and then we can regroup in the morning.”
I don’t give her a chance to object, quickly ushering her into an empty dorm, pointing out the main kitchen and bathrooms along the way. Once I return to my apartment, I lock the door and rest my head against the wood.
My liquor cabinet is fairly empty. I normally go upstairs when I want to drink, but tonight, I really want to be alone. Luckily, I find a bottle of whiskey and a clean glass. Smooth pour, two fingers, bottle back in the cabinet. I lean against the counter and take a sip.
Pour a glass, put the bottle back. That’s a Derek-ism. Something about making each drink a conscious decision instead of mindless consumption. That technique can be really helpful, but not tonight.
I down the rest of my glass and grab the bottle back out of the cabinet.
I curl up on the rug, reclining against the couch.
I thumb through the frail pages of the journal before returning to the first page.
My fingers glide across the script, tracing her scrawling ramblings.
Holly Jennings. Charlotte. Lottie. Names I haven’t heard in so, so long.
The whiskey burns my throat as I take a deep pull from the bottle.
I don’t know how long it takes me, but I read the rest of the letters and get through most of the bottle.
Memories dance through my head. Picnics in the park, pancakes cooked into silly shapes, my infatuation with this one boy band.
I’d forgotten all of these moments of my childhood.
I close the journal and stumble into my bedroom.
Instinctively, I tuck the book into my sock drawer, hiding it beneath the hosiery. No one else needs to know it’s there.
I step into the hot water of the shower, wanting to finish what was interrupted before.
Red-tinged liquid pools by the drain, the last remnants of blood finally scrubbed from my hair.
Soap bubbles slide down my torso taking the grime of the past day with them.
I crumple to the floor, letting the shower stream cascade over me.
Jack’s dead. My mom’s dead. My shooter didn’t have the decency to kill me. I survived, and for what? What was it all for?
“Sparks, you are not allowed to skip this morning’s coffee meeting!” I hear banging on the door. “Do not make me come in there.”
“Fuck off, Derek!” I groan and cover my face with a pillow.
My head is pounding, my arm is throbbing, and my hands are aching. I’m not in the mood. The keypad beeps as Derek enters his code. The lights emit the glare of a million suns. I hear Derek shuffling around in my closet before clean clothes are tossed on top of me.
“Get dressed, Sparkie,” he teases. “I’ll be in your living room.”
I throw my pillow at his receding figure before peeling my body from my sheets. The fabric of my athletic shorts is rough against my skin, but the t-shirt is worn and soft. I stagger into the living room and flop onto the couch.
“I was going to ask how you were handling things.” Derek holds up the bottle of whiskey, eyeballing the dwindling amount of remaining liquid. “I think I have my answer.”
“I’m fine.” I brush him off. “What’s so important that you just had to wake me?”
“Sparks, I thought we agreed not to lie to each other.” Derek sits across from me. “You’re the only thing on the agenda today. I sent Oliver home. It’s just the two of us. Talk to me.”
I sit up as he slides a hot mug of coffee in front of me. I hate coffee, but the warm mug can be soothing to hold. Derek takes a sip from his own mug, patiently waiting.
“I don’t feel any better,” I confess. “Wasn’t that what we were working toward? Get stronger, so no one can hurt me again. Get my shit together. Well, I killed Jack, Derek. I shot him in the face, felt his blood on my hands. He’s dead, and I’m here, but everything still hurts.”
“What happened before we got there?” Derek asks. “You left us. I saw the door busted in, but I couldn’t find you. I panicked, I thought he… I thought I was too late. But then you had a gun. I know that wasn’t one of ours.”
“He told me he loved me,” I mutter.
“Classic manipulation,” Derek scoffs. “He only has one trick.”
“It almost worked.” I hate to admit it. “Not because I love him. No, I despise him, he just knows how to get under my skin.”
“You won though!” Derek exclaims. “Can’t you see? This was all you. You got yourself through this.”
“I s’pose.” My hair falls into my face, and I drag my fingers through trying to push the strands back. “He gave me the gun to shoot you.”
“And?” Derek shifts in his chair, unsettled but listening. “Still mulling it over?”
“Oh god, no!” I panic, waving my hands, nearly spilling my coffee in the process. “I just didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else!”
“Calm down,” Derek chuckles. “I trust you.”
“Good.” I look at the brown liquid in my drink.
“By the way, we looted his safehouse after you left.” Derek fishes around in his pockets. “Standard protocol, you know. Make sure he doesn’t have any incriminating evidence left behind or what not. I found this.”
He gently pulls out a sparkling chain with a small pendant on the end.
I recognize it immediately. My mom’s missing necklace, one I used to wear every day.
Jack stole it from me last year after I left him.
It was a deep blow, but now, I don’t know what to feel.
Derek extends the necklace to me, but I can’t move.
I just sit there in some combination of shock and surprise. He awkwardly sets it on the table.
“I heard that while I was… cleaning up, you had a late-night visitor,” Derek probes.
“That is correct.” I set my coffee on the table and curl up nervously on the couch.
“Was it taken care of?” He asks, bluntly.
“In a sense.”
“Sparks.” He narrows his eyes. “Do not let her leverage your past relationship over you.”
“She’s not here about the gang.” I play with the ends of my hair. “I actually negotiated for immunity. She won’t touch us.”
“And what does she get in return?” Derek sits up. “I don’t like the feeling of this.”
“She just needs my help on a side project,” I answer vaguely. “Nothing related to the team. Just something I know more about than her.”
“I won’t stand in your way.” Derek leans back in his chair. “But I want you to remember how badly she hurt you last time. Stay distant and keep your guard up. I care about you too much to let you fall back into that rut.”
“I’ll be fine.” I shrug.
“Yeah?” Derek says, frankly. “What happened to your fists? Or that bottle of whiskey? It’s been one night.”
I take a deep breath and rub my bruised knuckles. He’s not wrong. I haven’t taken seeing Astrid again well.
“I’ll be careful,” I concede. “If I remember right, the next part of our routine is exercise?”
“Yeah.” He gives me a small smile, acknowledging my Derek-ism. “Let’s hit the gym.”