Chapter 33
33
RAINE
T here’s an Espresso Yourself on the ground level of a Boston high rise in the financial district. The lobby is marble, glass, and steel, but the coffee shop has kitschy furniture, woven hemp rugs, and brightly colored art by local artists and photographers. I’m immediately glad I made the drive. I brought a blanket and boxed lunch for later in Norman B. Leventhal Park, which became my favorite park senior year at St. Seb’s.
After reviewing emails from Owen, I’m happy to find he likes the most recent research and notes I’ve sent. We had a meeting on Friday, and I confided some of what I’d seen at Lambda House. I’d been worried he might be happy to have dirt, which would’ve made me feel gross for telling him. Instead, he was somber and sorry to hear that one of my high school friends had been sucked into the nasty underbelly of GU. One thing he said was that the things we do in our late teens and early twenties don’t need to define us. He’s seen people who’ve completely changed their lives.
I work until one in the afternoon and then walk to the park. It’s been sprinkling on and off, so the air smells clean. The dreary weekend sky means I have the sidewalks to myself. I stop to take moody photographs and some footage I know will look great for a certain type of story.
When I reach the park, the trellises immediately bring a smile to my face. I take a few closeups of water dripping from the vines to post in a few days, after I’ve left Boston.
The grass is wet, so I use napkins to wipe off the end of a bench and then fold my blanket in half and place it as a seat cushion.
While I’m unboxing my lunch, my phone rings. Killian.
I let it go to voicemail, and surprisingly, he leaves one.
After pouring ginger peach tea from my thermos into its cup, I press play on the voicemail.
Hey, Raine. From the way you left, I’m guessing you found something out that made you mad at me or you heard something that made you doubt me. The thing is… Everything I said to you Thursday night is the truth. Our relationship can be different now. What hasn’t changed is you’re the one thing I refuse to live without. And we will make that work. You’re more important than my fucking job, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re more important to me than anything.
He exhales a harsh breath.
I know you’re in Boston this weekend. I’m not gonna come right now, even though… it’s fucking killing me. I’ll stay in Foxgrove to give you time to think. But you should hit me back with some texts about where you are and what you’re doing because then I’ll probably be able to hold out longer. That’s my advice to you on how to keep me away. One last thing.
The pause is so long I wonder if he got disconnected. Then he finally speaks in that low whisper he uses when we’re in bed.
I love you.
“Fuck,” I whisper, my heart warring with my head on what it wants to believe.
Leaning back, I stare at the gray sky. He’s impossible.
I shake my head, trying to make sense of things. He clearly had some plan to neutralize the threat I posed to him and his business associates by binding me to him. That was a definite betrayal. Which he must know.
On the other hand, Killian wouldn’t be trying to convince me he was sincere if he wasn’t. That’s not him. Or at least it never has been before. He’s always said that telling me the truth, his horrible secrets and all, feels right to him. And that I know him better than anyone else does. Which is the way he wants it.
Rubbing the side of my neck, I sigh. If I want to hear exactly what he was ordered to do, I’ll have to ask him and see what he’s willing to tell me. Normally, that’s my superpower. Unlocking Killian Callahan. No one but me has ever been able to do that. And many have tried. Our parents, our teachers, our classmates at St. Seb’s, his coaches. Privately, he would shake his head at their attempts, bewildered as to why they would even care.
With a jolt, I realize part of why I’m so upset is I hate the idea that he would confide in his housemates and bosses instead of me. I’ll never forgive him if he made me believe he could be sweet as part of a fucking ruse. If he wants me in his life, he’d better go on pretending to be sweet until it’s part of his normal way of being.
With a deep breath and a shake of my head, I open our text thread.
Raine: I’m so angry I can’t even tell you. YOU MADE ME BELIEVE YOU WOULD TREAT ME THE WAY I DESERVE TO BE TREATED! You made me trust you! If that’s not true, than you’ve already lost me and there is NOTHING you can do to fix this.
Killian: I want you. I’ll do what it takes to keep you. That you can definitely fucking believe. Tell me which things matter, and that’s what you’ll get.
My phone rings. It’s him. I send it to voicemail.
Raine: I don’t want to talk right now. I’m busy. And I’m angry.
Killian: You can have till tomorrow. Then I’m coming to Boston to get you.
Killian: That’s if you text me today. If you go silent, I’m coming now.
“You’re such an asshole!” I yell.
Clenching my fists, my jaws, and pretty much every muscle I’ve got, I try not to scream again in frustration. He doesn’t get to dictate the terms of my forgiveness. Which I am going to tell him. Eventually.
But I don’t want him coming to Marianne and my dad’s tonight. Killian won’t hurt me, but he would hurt anyone who tried to get in the way of his getting to me. Not happening.
While I’m planning my next moves, he must be placated. I open the text thread and fire off a message.
Raine: Eating lunch.
I send a closeup picture of a flower that could have been taken anywhere. As soon as I send it though, I stiffen. Will he be able to unlock its meta data and figure out where I am? Not that it would matter much since he knows I’m in Boston, but still.
There are three dots, but then they disappear. After a few minutes, I realized he’s restraining himself from answering. Keeping his promise to give me the night. Good. Showing restraint is not usually in his wheelhouse.
Change is possible , I tell myself. Even for Killian.
Be patient. But don’t let him get the upper hand.
I’m finishing my lunch when Alicia Zenker walks down the path. She’s dressed in a denim trench coat that’s so long it hits her houndstooth print ankle boots. The outfit is The Devil Wears Prada meets Mission Impossible. Totally over the top.
“Oh, hey, Alicia.” The surprise in my voice is evident .
I glance around. There are a few people strolling through the park, but it’s mostly empty. Her arrival is definitely not coincidental. I pack up and as I’m trying to distance myself, one of my feet lands on the grass and I stumble. Fortunately, I manage not to fall completely.
“Hi, Raine. I was hoping you were still here.”
Still here? How the hell did she know?
My confused expression must register because she says, “This was always a popular spot with the St. Seb’s kids and I recognized it in your post.”
“My post?” I say blankly and then look at my phone. Oh, Jesus, one of the posts I scheduled for next week, accidentally published in real time. For fuck’s sake.
“I’m going, actually,” I say. “But if you want to talk, you can walk with me.”
“I will, thanks.” Alicia waits.
Once I’ve got my tote and backpack over my shoulders, we start down the path.
“Well?” I ask, hoping my voice doesn’t sound hostile. I’m annoyed she tracked me down and inserted herself into my day, rather than waiting for me to text her back. It’s a move straight out of Killian’s playbook.
“I’m in trouble.” Her tone is matter of fact. “I need money.” No trace of embarrassment in her words or expression.
My pace slows to a stop at the corner. I balance on the curb just above the crosswalk, waiting for a walk signal.
I glance at her face. “Why tell me?”
Her makeup is heavy, but fine lines are still visible around her eyes. If she doesn’t change the ways she’s living, she’ll look old before her time.
“I want you to loan me money.” Her carefully neutral expression hardens. “You owe me that.”
My brows crinkle in confusion. “I do?” My slightly louder voice is skeptical.
“Green,” she says, nodding at the light.
We cross the street in silence.
“You ruined my life. Or have you forgotten? ”
My jaw slackens, and I tilt my head. Has Alicia really figured out that Killian killed her dad because of me? In her place, I would never have come to that conclusion. He was a high school kid. Not exactly someone you’d expect to be able to plan and execute the perfect murder without getting caught.
Making sure my tone sounds light and perplexed, I ask, “What do you mean?”
“You implied something awful happened to you at my house on the night you came over. That started school gossip, you know? That kind of accusation could’ve caused my father to lose his medical license. He would’ve been humiliated.” Her voice rises with righteous indignation. “He had to protect his family. Dad didn’t realize my mom hadn’t kept up with the life insurance payments. After a year, there wasn’t enough money for tuition or the house.” Her mouth sets in a thin, angry line.
“I don’t know what you expect me to say.”
“You could acknowledge what you did.”
My pace slows until we’re standing still in the shadow of a glossy skyscraper. “Are you really blaming me? Instead of your father?”
“Oh, my God. Are you still trying to claim you were drugged? To me? I was there, remember?”
“I was comatose for hours.”
“Says who?”
That causes me to almost name Killian, but I stop myself in time. She doesn’t know the details of what happened after I escaped her house, and I’m not going to fill in the blanks.
When I speak, my voice is cold and dismissive. “I say so.”
After turning away from her, I stalk off in the direction of Dad’s car. Alicia’s boots snap against the pavement as she rushes to keep up with me.
“I know you told Killian that story, and he believed you. He actually grabbed me by the throat and accused me of helping to drug you! As if!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her touch her throat.
“He threatened me,” she says, sounding huffy and slightly breathless. “He said if he found out I’d had a hand in it, he’d make me regret it. But he didn’t find any evidence, did he? When he talked to other girls, no one had that story. He realized you lied. But that didn’t help my family, did it?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Your dad did drug me that night. I think he drugged you, too. I tried to wake you up and couldn’t. Didn’t you wonder what happened? I bet there were things you couldn’t remember.”
As we pass the second to last building before the parking garage, she grabs my arm. “I have powerful friends. You’re going to give me ten thousand dollars or you’ll regret it. After the trouble you caused, you owe me.”
“I don’t owe you anything. And you shouldn’t push this. Your dad was very smooth. I’m certain I wasn’t the first one he drugged. So often, when things come to light in the press, other people who were afraid to come forward realize they’re not alone.”
She grabs my tote and jerks it off my shoulder. When I reach for it, she shoves me so hard, I fall backward onto the cement in the narrow corridor between buildings. From the shadowy ground, I watch Alicia dart away.
Fuck this whole day.
I rise, brushing gravel off from my scraped hands.
Just what else could possibly go wrong?
A hissed voice comes from behind me. “Raine.”
I jerk around as a surge of adrenaline pours into my bloodstream.
There’s a man, and he grabs my arms. I scream and try to yank free of his hold.
He slams me into the side of the building with such force it knocks the wind out of me. A bony forearm slams across my throat and presses hard against my windpipe. I grab his arm, clawing at it, trying to get it off me.
I can’t breathe. My nails tear at his arm and face. His knee drives into my stomach so hard I almost vomit.
The shadows thicken to black. Panic, fear, and desperation ensure that…
The creep wins.