Chapter Forty Six
The campus looks exactly the same. Painfully the same.
Everest pulls the car into a quiet stretch of road just outside the dorms, the engine idling as we simply sit there.
Students pass by, dragging their backpacks at the end of a long day, sleepy groans filtering through the air with only a few conscious and curious enough to glance our way.
With a flick of his fingers, Everest sends them on with their day, his influential aura settling back in as if we never left.
As if the last few days didn’t tear something open inside of me that I’m not sure will ever close.
I don’t move at first. My hand is braced on the handle, my body angled toward the escape, but there’s a weight pressing down on my chest that makes leaving feel impossible.
Everest doesn’t mention it, but I know he senses my thoughts.
Once we get out of this car, we have to start living a new life.
Living a lie that we’ve promised will never be spoken about, not to anyone. Not that I could voice it anyway.
The mud under my knees, the metallic tang of blood thick in the back of my throat, the crack of the gunshot echoing somewhere deep within my skull.
My fingers twitch as they remember the resistance of the trigger, the recoil of the gun, the moment I sealed my fate.
Every time they’ve twitched over the past three days, I’ve sought to keep them busy, to forget the reality crashing down on me.
Evidently, Everest has been an ideal distraction.
After burying Harrison along with the deer’s corpse that he’d dutifully wrapped in tarp, we checked his house for any sign of Laura.
Coming up empty and running out of time, we then ran back to the barn, changed into our clean clothes and made it a whole twenty miles down the road before Everest slammed his foot on the brake.
One look at the wild, panicked glint in his eye, at the last thread of his control finally snapping, and I reacted, dragging him into the back seat with the only solution my body knew.
And so it went on. Hands clawing, teeth scraping, punishing thrusting rhythms in laybys, diner restrooms, seedy motels with flickering lights and thin walls. I needed his hands and mouth on me. I needed something louder than the silence in my head. I needed to forget.
A throat is cleared and I flinch, blinking hard to drag myself back into the present.
“You should get some rest,” Everest states coolly. I nod, not trusting myself to speak. If I do, it’ll be to go over the plan again, even though we’ve discussed it over and over.
The likelihood that Harrison will be found is slim, given that he conveniently dug his own grave, and even if he is, our clothes and gloves have been burned behind a sleazy bar with no surveillance.
Everest will have the gun cleaned, stripped of anything that could trace back to me, and returned to his parents’ manor.
As long as I play my role, there’s nothing that can trace the crime back to us.
Inhaling, I force my arm to stiffen and pop the door open.
Cool air rushes in as I step out onto solid ground, my legs holding me up purely out of habit at this point.
Everest heads to the trunk, handing over my bag with the faintest brush of our fingers.
I don’t know how such a simple touch can send a shudder along my spine, considering I’ve fucked this man every way and chance I could.
Pulling back, I stall, awkwardly nodding before turning away.
My ears prick, waiting for Everest to call after me, but he doesn’t.
Whatever I was expecting him to say, whatever movie finish I conjured in my head, is cancelled out by the slamming of his car door.
The engine revs as he passes me, the red Lexus turning towards the frat houses and disappearing from view.
On numb feet, I trudge to my dorm block, hiding my face behind the curtain of my hair.
The stairs have never felt so steep, my legs laden until I’m finally approaching my door.
It swings open from the inside, Thiago barely giving me time to acknowledge him before he’s on me.
His arms round me tightly, one hand pressing firmly into my back and the other cradling my head.
The bag slips from my shoulder, my arms wrapping around his middle with more force than necessary, but I can’t loosen my grip.
I bury my face into his collarbone, breathing him in whilst my fingers clutch the back of his hoodie.
“I’ve got you, Amorzinha. Você está seguro.”
That’s all it takes to break through the dam of emotion I’ve been running away from.
It hits fast and without mercy, a violent crack straight through my chest as the first sob tears out of me.
My grip on him tightens impossibly further, trying to anchor myself before I completely fall apart in the hallway, but there’s no stopping it now.
Tears come hot and relentless, soaking into the fabric of his hoodie as my breathing turns ragged, each inhale catching like my lungs don’t know how to work anymore.
My body shakes with every suppressed thought, every image I’ve tried to bury that claws its way back to the surface.
The blood, the gun, the second of freedom I felt replaced by a chasm of regret.
Harrison was my kidnapper, the one who stole me in the middle of the night, killed my birth father in front of me, and kept me beaten and bloodied as leverage.
But now…now he’s just another body in the ground who won’t suffer for his crimes, and Laura.
God, Laura. I have no idea where she is or what is happening to her.
Shifting with me, Thiago guides us backwards without ever loosening his hold.
The door shuts with a dull thud, although I barely register it over the sound of my own crying.
Maneuvering us toward the bed, I stumble against him until the mattress hits the back of my legs.
We collapse, our arms tangled, my head still buried in his neck as Thiago holds me close.
He doesn’t rush me, one hand slowly stroking my hair as if to remind me that once I’m done breaking, he’ll help to put the pieces back together.
I’m drawn from my lull sometime later, having cried myself to sleep in Thiago’s arms. The weight of exhaustion is still ever-present, but something has shifted slightly.
The emotions I was concealing have finally had an outlet, not that it changes anything.
I’m still a murderer. I’ve killed a man and buried his body in his own backyard.
No amount of therapy is going to reverse that.
“Hey,” Thiago says gently, sensing the shift in my breathing.
I curl further into his side, not wanting him to see my face.
However, Thiago doesn’t care for me hiding my puffy eyes, his hand cupping my jaw to tilt my head upwards.
“Dare I ask, how did it go?” he winces slightly. I lick my lips, shaking my head.
“He wasn’t there,” I lie, keeping up the pretense Everest and I settled on.
I’ve been nervous to use my phone whilst traveling back, only sending the occasional message to Thi to let him know I was safe.
I considered telling him the truth once I was back with him in person, but I can’t bring myself to say it.
I don’t want to voice the words, because that will make them real.
Swallowing, I glance past Thi at my spotlessly clean dorm.
Far cleaner than I left it. “Did anything happen whilst we were gone?”
“Nope. Nothing,” Thiago answers immediately. A trickle of awareness passes through me, but I don’t have the energy to question it. Not when my body still feels like it’s somewhere else. Not when a part of me is still standing at the edge of that hole, staring down at something I can’t unsee.
Instead, I follow Thiago’s lead, letting him guide me out of my clothes until I’m left in my underwear, too drained to think, too heavy to do anything but exist in the moment he’s creating for me.
He tucks me beneath the covers with him, and when he asks if I need anything, I don’t trust my voice enough to answer.
Leaning forward, I press a soft, featherlight kiss to his lips, silently saying what my words can’t manage.
It’s here, wrapped up in Thiago’s arms, his warmth slowly seeping into the cold spaces inside me, that my body finally begins to ease. The tension coursing through me tapers off just enough for me to breathe, and for the first time in days, I allow myself to feel safe again.
The next time I come to, light filters through my half-open lids.
I twist slightly, discovering my body is trapped beneath a covering, limbs tangled to the point of being constricted.
I suck in a breath, visions of tarp and rope flashing in my mind until Thiago shifts, dragging his arm off my stomach.
I slump back into the pillows and dig the heels of my palms into my eyes.
Get a grip, Meg. It’s over.
“Hey, sleepy head,” Thi smiles warmly. Leaning on his forearm, he bops a kiss on my nose, the normality of the action settling in.
I blink up at him, my breathing still uneven, but the sight before me is enough to squash most of my unease.
Most. His short hair is a mess of unruly curls, his blue eyes soft as he scans my face and makes no comment on whatever he sees there.
One of his hands finds mine beneath the covers, threading our fingers together.
I reckon we could snuggle down again, simply lying here together, but life has other plans.
A harsh knock sounds on the door, resetting my nerves on edge in an instant. I twist my head to Thiago, silent questions stopping just short of leaving my mouth. Is it the cops? Have they found Harrison? Do they know what I did?
Without those same worries, Thiago vaults himself over me and strides to the door in just his boxers and sporting a half-pitched tent. He throws it open and leans on the doorframe.
“Hey, Captain Spark—”