Chapter 28
PIPER
If only he knew that we do in fact share a child in blood.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him this morning, but I’m so used to keeping it a secret that it felt weird to finally let it all out.
I’ll have to tell him soon, though. Once my fate has been decided, I’ll go from there.
But one thing is for sure—I have to tell him before they’re prying Sonny from my arms. That dream has been haunting me all day.
I still haven’t heard anything from my father since I visited him in the shit motel. I keep jumping to the conclusion that he’s dead, that the stalker got him, but it’s only been a day since he was over here demanding to know where he was hiding, so that can’t be the case. Yet.
I’m out in the garden watering the flowers that I planted—back when Caleb and I were avoiding each other, when a bee lands on my hand.
I hold my breath, waiting for it to bite, but instead it takes off and flies away.
Until next time.
Seeing as though Caleb is off from work, I decide to take his truck and drive to the scene of the crime—my house. Or what remains of it.
My car is still parked on the street, back from when Caleb coaxed me into his with his good looks and charm.
I smooth my hands over the steering wheel of his truck and give myself permission to bask in his scent. It’s everywhere, clinging to the seat of his car, all over the steering wheel. It either sends me into relaxation mode, or has my heart breaking. No in-between.
I park in front of the property and look at what used to be my home.
The children’s lives were on the line last night, and I refused to tell the stalker where my father was hiding.
Why am I hesitating when there’s never been any love present between us?
I spent my whole life walking on eggshells around my father.
Because of him, I learned to rely only on myself, and be skeptical about asking for help from others, because everything was transactional.
It’s time for my father to pay. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell the stalker the truth.
I stare at my ruined house and recall the amount of times I’ve wanted to pack my stuff up and leave with Sonny. There is more out there, and I was determined for Sonny and me to see the world together.
But ever since the fire, I haven’t thought about leaving once.
I grimace through the window, knowing that the fire has nothing to do with me wanting to stay…
Caleb walked back into my life and I’ve been unable to think of anything but what we used to have.
I place my hand over my stomach again. What if things are finally starting to fall into place? What if me getting pregnant is the universe’s way of forcing me to trust in Caleb again?
I pop open the driver’s side door and step out of the truck. A balmy breeze blows through the street, but I turn cold as soon as I look at my house.
Being back here feels strange, but it’s necessary.
Rubble is everywhere, making it hard to recognize my old home.
Sonny and I lived peacefully here together for nine years, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.
Getting out of town was supposed to make us feel complete, I was sure of that.
But I stand here now and know that a part of me has always felt incomplete without Caleb.
I hobble through the rubble on my sprained toe, which is starting to see some improvement, and my chest tightens as I near the front door. There’s no longer a door there, but a gap which I duck under to enter what used to be my hallway.
The place is a wreck—expected. But I didn’t expect there to be new occupants.
Spiders. They’re all over my kitchen—what’s left of the room, anyway.
I venture in as much as I can, the smell of soot heavy in my nose, and feel my throat close in as I remember myself boiling that sunflower oil.
The stove, of course, remains somewhat intact, which can’t be said for the wooden worktops around it.
I tread carefully, reminding myself that I don’t want another repeat of the forest incident.
I make it to where the documents were all piled up on the table. None of them survived the fire, and neither did the acetone.
I maneuver out of the kitchen and head back to the front door, seeing if I can find the break-in signs.
Mind, I don’t exactly know what I’m looking for here.
I run my hand up the black wall a couple of times before calling it a day.
The acrid smell of smoke is in my lungs, sending me back to a time I’d rather not think about. A time when I could have lost my son.
I head back out into the daylight, and that’s when I see a black pair of boots cutting me off. I follow the shoes up to the face.
Shit.
Obviously, the stalker’s not wearing a mask this time. I can see the black eye as clear as my future, and neither are looking bright. Caleb did some damage to the man, and the man looks pissed.
He looks terrifying too, like a pirate.
“This is your last chance to tell me where your father is before I escalate.”
I find some comfort in knowing that Caleb is at home with the kids.
“And how do you intend to escalate this?”
The man grabs my wrist and yanks me to him, towing me back into his car.
Oh.
My heart stammers, breath wedged in my throat as I try to set myself free. But the stalker is a lot stronger than he looks and manages to get me into his car. I’m thrown into the back, the door locking before I even have time to pick myself up and salvage an escape.
The man shuts the door and starts up the engine, and before I know it, we’re leaving Maple Crossing.
“What the actual fuck?” I whisper to myself, still trying to work out where the hell I’m being Ubered to.
I squint through the window and see trees pass by in a blur.
So much of a blur that I can’t even see the gaps between them.
I blink, straighten my vision. Turns out the stalker just likes to drive dangerously fast.
I clutch the headrest in front of me. The red leather seats are an eyesore.
So is the man who’s driving this thing. I steal a quick glance at him in the rearview mirror as he concentrates on the road, and feel the hint of a smile upturn my lip.
That is one very black eye, so much that you can’t see where the eyelid ends and the white of his eye begins.
I keep a beady eye on the stalker, smug that both of mine are intact, and take a deep breath. I’ve got this. The man has one impaired eye and a bad record of criminal offenses, probably.
I have a phone, and zero criminal offenses, as of yet.
I keep myself calm and between the seats, take out my phone. The guy is traveling at speed, so all of his focus is on the road, trying not to crash as we skirt around forest bends. My body jerks with the motion, but I keep a tight grip on the device and hit voice record.
Let the fun commence.
“How come you were sniffing around my house?”
The man catches my eye through the rearview mirror. “To see if Philip had moved locations.” His eye, the one he’s still able to use, narrows in scrutiny. “Why are you asking?”
I make sure to keep my phone hidden between the seats as I say, “Because you broke into my house the day before it burned down.”
James Taylor didn’t wanna hear any of it, after he got my confession. He clearly has no interest in listening to me, but he might listen to the burglar if I get enough audio proof.
“Yes, I was there the day before the fire,” he says.
“I was searching for your father to see if he was there, and then had a quick rummage through some documents in the kitchen to see if I could find an address.” He glimpses me through the mirror again.
“Something spilled. Nail polish remover, I think.” That single eye narrows again.
“Is that what you were hoping for? A confession so then you’re off the hook?
” Laughter erupts from his mouth, the screeching kind that’s gonna explode my eardrums if he keeps going.
“The apple does not fall very far from the tree with you and your father. The pair of you are always looking for someone to blame.” Another harsh turn has me swinging to the other side of the car and back.
“You don’t think I can see what you’re doing in my own car? ”
He stomps on the brake and I go flying into the seat. My life flashes in front of me, and I have no other option but to release the phone, saving myself from a deadly hit. I grip the headrest, grateful that my face is still intact.
“Thanks for the whiplash.”
“Not a problem.” The stalker kills the engine and races around to grab my phone from the footwell as I’m recovering.
I’m a second to late.
Fuck.
I try to snatch it back, but he’s already deleting the voice note and circling back around the vehicle to continue the drive.
But before he does that, he takes a minute to go through my phone. I’m not bothered about him seeing the flirtatious text messages with Caleb as much as I am about him recovering my calls and voicemails.
“I hope you’re not putting a virus on my phone,” I spit, folding my arms over my chest as he plugs an ugly contraption into my phone. “Those things cost a fortune. Not like I expect you to know, seeing as you probably get all of your shit from the black market.”
Then I zip my lips before I further aggravate the man in the middle of nowhere, with no phone.
The stalker ignores my comment and keeps the power-bank-looking thing plugged into the charging port.
He does exactly as I feared he would—he retrieves a call.
The one I had with my father.
“I’m staying at West Hill Motel. I’ll tell you everything in person. It’s risky over the phone.”
Shit.
The stalker shoves my phone into his pocket and restarts the car, then does a sharp U-turn at the next intersection. According to the built-in GPS on the car, I have to endure another ten minutes of reckless driving before we make it to the motel.