Chapter 4
Ava
I walked through the upper floor of the farmhouse, away from the covered bodies downstairs, stopping at the door of a study room.
It was Grayson’s. I could tell by the feeling it emanated.
It felt like him, that strange change in the air that had always let me know when he was close before I’d see him.
It lingered in the air, making my heart ache. This was where he was before they fled.
I looked around to see if anyone would notice, then slipped inside Grayson’s study.
All officers were pulled back as the forensic team started on their investigation, leaving the big house almost empty.
Owen was still in the living room with the captain, fighting over who got to examine the evidence first.
There were no bare walls in the room, only bookshelves covering every inch of vertical space. It was so like Grayson. I hadn’t seen any of their houses that hadn’t been stacked with books.
The desk was littered with papers and photos. The photos were of me, and some of Agent Becket. But that was no surprise. We already knew he was watching us. Another reason why we decided against informing the FBI of our situation.
I picked up the photo at the top of the pile. It was one of me eating lunch with Rachel in the park, laughing. It was the first time I had laughed since my return to Bentley Cove, and somehow Grayson had captured the moment, stealing it.
The adrenaline had worn off, along with the high I felt for getting so close to capturing them.
Now it was just the same old emptiness that hounded me.
Especially in this room, a place that so obviously belonged to Grayson but was foreign to me.
It just drove home that I never truly knew him. I never truly had him.
A flash of gold caught my attention, peeking out from underneath some papers. My throat closed up as I uncovered it. I picked it up, closing my fist around it and pressed it against my heart, letting the pain wash through me.
Aegis. The pin I had given to Grayson on our last day.
Why had the gods allowed this man into my life?
Why had they allowed him to shatter me so completely that I didn’t even recognise myself anymore?
I was a shell of a person because he was still walking around with pieces of me he had no business having.
And I didn’t know how to take it back. I didn’t know how to undo us.
I’d been trying to outrun the memories of him, but they were always there, haunting me.
Reminding me how good we were together, how much I loved him.
I had made him my whole world, and he ripped it away, leaving me utterly alone, floating through space with no goal and no hope.
It was pathetic. I was pathetic.
I pushed away from the table, pocketing the pin. I wasn’t going to leave the evidence of my patheticness lying around.
I examined each bedroom until I found the one I was looking for—Grayson’s. I needed the proof I so craved, and this would probably be my last opportunity.
The room was neat, the bed perfectly made as always. I wondered if his bed felt as cold as mine did every night. Did it even bother him to sleep alone again after so many nights of holding me? Probably not.
Maybe he already had someone else warming his bed.
The thought stabbed through me, and I had to turn away from the bed. No. I would surely fall dead if that was true. My heart would stop beating, and I would just drop down in the middle of the street, ceasing to exist. The doctors would call it a medical anomaly, not understanding how it happened.
I opened the closet door, the scent of Grayson engulfing my senses, my knees buckling under the weight of the longing I refused to acknowledge.
All his clothes were still there. His favourite white t-shirt caught my eye. I picked it up and pressed it to my face, inhaling deeply, breathing in the scent of home.
Gods, I was pathetic.
Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to put the shirt back.
I fastened it inside the waistband of my pants, dropping my jacket over it to hide it.
I was breaking all kinds of laws, but I couldn’t leave it behind.
I couldn’t let the police rip the fragile fabric to shreds during their investigation.
And I couldn't admit to myself why the hell I cared.
I rummaged through the rest of the room, trying to find what I came looking for—any evidence that he once loved me.
That he still thought of me or dreamt of me.
That he still felt something for the woman he swore he would never leave.
But the only evidence that I was ever in his life was the wood carving of the honey badger he’d made for me, discarded in the back of the top drawer of his nightstand.
“Keep it,” Owen said from the door. “We have enough evidence to put them away for a long time.” His eyes darted between mine and the little carving in my hand, seeing way too much. “But don’t snitch on me if they catch you. Then you’re on your own.”
I smiled, the movement letting a tear fall that I’d been desperately trying to keep inside. “Yes, sir,” I tried to joke, pocketing the honey badger.
He took another step into the room, looking at anything but me, giving me the time to compose myself. “This is an old cartel house. We found tunnels everywhere. One leading to the barn. That’s how they got to the helicopter. Clever bastards.” Owen looked at me, gauging my reaction.
I only nodded. But the silence became uncomfortable. Owen clearly had something on his mind. “Just…” I sighed, “say it.”
He turned his full attention to me, clearing his throat. “Your reaction when they took Gemma down, and when they shot at the truck we thought Grayson was in and finding you here. It’s…” He lowered his head, trying to find the right words.
“It’s what?” I prompted after a moment of too long silence.
His eyes settled on me again, filled with that pity I hated so much. “It’s understandable,” he paused, sighing out a breath, “but it’s a conflict of interest. You still feel too much for them. I’m afraid it’ll get in the way—”
“It won’t,” I interrupted immediately.
“Ava, if—”
“It won’t,” I insisted.
Owen shook his head, hard determination settling over his features. “You know as well as I do that the first chance he gives you, you’ll run right back into his arms.”
His words were like a slap to the face. It reverberated through my body, leaving a burning in its wake that I couldn’t escape.
He took a step towards me, regret already forming in his features, but it was too late.
It was already said, hanging in the air between us, making the air thick and hard to breathe.
Because he was fucking right.
“I need some air,” I choked and toppled past him.
I made my way out of the house, down the porch and down the driveway.
I abruptly changed course as I felt the eyes of the police officers on me, having nothing better to do than watch the pathetic, stupid woman stumble down the road, losing her mind.
I made my way into the field behind the house, falling to my knees in the tall grass.
What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I clinging to the hope that he still wanted me? That they would come back for me? They had moved on with their lives and forgot all about me. They clearly weren’t missing me with the bone-crushing intensity that I missed them.
And it was pathetic.
Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.
It needed to end. I needed to find a way to move on. Starting with getting off my fucking knees and getting out of the field.
I wandered to the barn, the roof still open in a peculiar way. I nodded to the police officer guarding the door as I walked inside with determined steps, like I had the authority to be there. I had no idea if I did.
The inside looked nothing like the outside. The outside of the barn looked like it was one strong gust away from falling apart. A complete lie because the inside was clean, neat and entirely sturdy.
The roof was attached to huge hydraulic arms, opening it wide enough for a helicopter to get through.
But the helicopter wasn’t the only reason for the roof opening.
In the corner was a small loft area. On it stood a big telescope, pointed up at the stars.
I made my way up the stairs, ignoring the two scared, shadowy phantoms huddled together underneath it, hiding from someone.
I sighed as I reached the last step. Their hiding had been in vain. They were found and it didn’t end well.
Next to the telescope was a wooden table and leather chair.
There were books open, some with detailed pictures of the night sky, others showing the orbit of stars, and some with complicated graphs I had no idea about.
I scoffed at the Supercomplication watch they had just stolen, lying haphazardly at the edge of the table.
I picked up a leather notebook instead, closed with a pen still inside, marking the last entry. I opened it.
It was Grayson’s handwriting. Most of the page was covered by some kind of math equation beyond my comprehension but scribbled in the bottom corner was something I understood.
Thou little sparkling star of even,
Thou gem upon an azure Heaven,
How swiftly will I soar to thee,
When this imprisoned soul is free!
It was the last lines in a poem I’ve read before. From a book in Grayson’s Paris apartment. Next to it was a doodle of a star, the lines of it were traced again and again, as if he’d gotten lost in his thoughts.
I sank onto the leather chair, letting my head fall backwards, staring up at the starry sky. It was just as breath-taking as the stars that night on the cabin roof. Maybe even more so.
I laughed up at them, a broken, empty laugh.
Of course, it was breath-taking. Grayson seemed to collect beautiful views just as much as he collected beautiful art.
The cabin on the hill, overlooking snow-capped mountains and endless forest. Rainbow falls. The apartment in Paris with the best view of the Eiffel Tower. The apartment in Willsbury City, with windows from floor to ceiling, displaying the pretty city lights beneath it.
All had enchanting views.
“There are more places like this that I can show you.” His words at Rainbow Falls echoed silently in my thoughts.
Was this one of the places he was thinking of?
Maybe he wasn’t even thinking of any place. Maybe it was just more hollow words and empty promises.
You had sworn so much, then broke it all, like it was nothing. How did you do it, Gray? How did you make me feel so loved when I meant nothing?
The stairs creaked as someone made their way up. Probably to scold me for being here.
“It was a low blow,” Owen said from behind me. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But it’s true,” I answered, not having the energy to lift my head from the chair. “I’ll understand if you kick me off the team.”
He scoffed. “There is no team if I kick you off. It’s just you and me.” He bent down to look through the telescope. “That’s why I’m so scared that you’re not fully committed. I’ll be all alone again. Just me, myself and I.” Owen straightened, a half-smile on his lips as he turned to me.
I blew a strand of hair from my face. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I grumbled. “I can’t… get rid of them.” I pressed a hand against my heart where they were still festering.
“I know.”
“I’m trying,” I whispered as Owen lowered to the ground, looking every bit as tired as I felt.
“I know.” He offered me a small smile.
He looked defeated. For the first time, there wasn’t that spark of determination in his eyes. Just defeat. His shoulders were hanging while he slumped against the wooden railing, so uncharacteristic of him. It must have been a hard blow for him. “I’m sorry they got away.”
“I know.”
I snickered at his repetition. “You would have been disappointed if we caught them on our first try, anyway. But we’ll get them.”
His smile broadened, some of the light returning. “I know.”