26. Cici
CICI
"Can I come in?"
I stared at Todd. He was standing on my front porch. He looked exhausted. Not physically exhausted.
Defeated.
His shoulders were slumped. His jaw looked tight. The dark circles beneath his eyes were prominent.
For a moment, I hated that I noticed.
For a moment, I hated that part of me still cared.
"Cici..."
I held up a hand.
"What are you even doing here?”
“I wanted to talk to you. You… you haven’t answered any of my calls. I… I just needed to talk to you.”
“I have no missed calls from you, Todd.”
“Check your phone, Cici. Check your phone,” he pleaded like that would change everything.
A pang of confusion swept through me. Has he been trying to call me this whole time? Is my phone on airplane mode again?
It didn’t matter. He could’ve called me a thousand times. It still wouldn’t have changed the fact that he didn’t trust me.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Cici.”
“No."
His mouth snapped shut.
"You don't get to show up here and think that everything is okay."
Pain flashed across his face.
Good.
Maybe now he understood how I felt.
"I know I screwed up."
I laughed.
A short, humorless sound.
"You think?"
His gaze dropped to the flagstone.
"I never should have reacted the way I did."
"No."
"You were right."
I folded my arms across my chest.
"I know I was right."
Silence stretched between us.
Todd nodded once.
"You're innocent."
The words landed flat. Because they didn't matter anymore.
"I know I'm innocent, Todd."
His expression tightened.
"I know you didn't put those files on your computer."
"That's not the point."
"It is the point."
"No."
I shook my head.
"You still don't get it."
He stared at me. I could practically see him trying to figure out what he was missing.
"The files don't matter, you ass."
His brow furrowed.
"Cici—"
"The problem is that you believed they could be true."
The words hung in the air.
Heavy and painful.
Todd looked away first.
That alone told me everything.
Because he knew I was right.
"You didn't trust me, Todd."
His jaw clenched.
"I was trying to understand what happened."
"You thought I was stealing from you."
"No."
"You thought I was lying."
"No."
"You thought I was using you."
His silence answered for him.
A fresh wave of hurt crashed through my chest.
I swallowed hard. "You looked at me like I was a stranger."
His eyes closed briefly.
"Cici..."
"No."
My voice cracked.
I hated that it did.
I hated that I still cared enough for my voice to crack.
"It doesn't matter if you tell me that you know I'm innocent now."
His gaze returned to mine.
"I do know."
"It's too late."
His shoulders sagged.
I could tell every word was landing exactly where it should.
Good.
Because every word had landed on me first.
For days.
For nights.
For every minute since he'd walked out of my house.
"I trusted you."
His expression twisted.
"I know."
"I told you things I've never told anyone."
I thought about Grammy.
About my family.
About all the secrets I'd shared with him.
"I let you into my life."
His eyes filled with regret.
"I know."
"And then you sat there and looked at me like I was guilty."
The silence that followed felt endless.
Finally, Todd spoke.
"I'm sorry."
I looked away.
Because for the first time since he'd arrived, I believed him. The problem was that believing him didn't make it hurt less. His apology couldn't erase what happened or erase the look on his face. The fact was that when everything was on the line, he hadn't trusted me.
Then another memory slammed into me.
The pregnancy test.
The dinner.
The hope.
My stomach twisted.
I looked back at him.
"You want to know what really hurt?"
His expression tightened.
"What?"
"When I told you about the baby."
Pain flashed across his face.
Real pain.
Good.
Because I wasn't done.
"I spent hours trying to figure out how to tell you."
"Cici—"
"I was terrified."
His gaze dropped.
"I know."
"No, you don't."
My voice shook.
"I thought maybe you'd be excited."
His eyes closed.
"I thought maybe you'd smile."
The muscle in his jaw jumped.
"I thought maybe you'd tell me everything was going to be okay."
I laughed again.
Another broken sound.
"Instead, you sat there and stared at me."
His eyes opened.
"I was shocked."
"You didn't know what to say."
Regret filled his face.
I shook my head.
"I keep replaying that moment."
"Cici..."
"You didn't know what to say."
The words felt like glass.
Sharp and cutting.
"I find out I'm pregnant." I pressed a hand against my stomach, "with our baby."
Todd's eyes immediately followed the movement.
"I finally tell you."
My throat tightened.
"And you didn't know what to say."
He looked devastated.
I didn't care.
Maybe a week ago I would have.
But not today.
The wound was too fresh.
The hurt was too new.
"I wasn't prepared."
His voice was rough.
Barely audible.
"I wasn't prepared to hear that."
I stared at him.
Neither was I.
But somehow I still managed to say the words.
His shoulders dropped another inch.
"I love you."
The confession nearly knocked me over.
My heart squeezed painfully.
I wasn’t prepared for that.
Because part of me wanted to hear it.
Part of me had wanted to hear it for weeks.
But not like this.
Not after everything that happened.
Not after he shattered my trust.
Tears burned behind my eyes.
I blinked them away.
"I can't do this right now."
The words seemed to physically hurt him.
"Cici..."
"I can't."
He stared at me for several long seconds.
Then he slowly nodded. I watched him hesitate.
Watched him look like he wanted to say something else.
He didn't.
Maybe he finally understood that there was nothing left to say.
Not tonight.
Without another word, he turned and walked towards Frank's truck.
I closed the door behind me.
I leaned back against the door and took a deep breath. I looked down at my shaking hands then up to the ceiling.
I heard the engine groan to life. A sharp backfire cracked through the air, followed by the sputtering rattle of the engine as Todd pulled out of my driveway.
Alone.
Again.
I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face, the apology, the regret, the hurt, the love.
By morning, my head ached.
My chest felt heavy.
And I desperately needed to clear my thoughts. I changed into leggings and a sweatshirt before stepping outside.
The early morning air was cool against my skin. The lake was calm and the neighborhood quiet.
Perfect.
I started jogging, settling into a steady rhythm as one foot landed in front of the other. The familiar motion was predictable and simple, exactly what I needed.
For the first mile, I focused only on my breathing, letting everything else fade away. Just movement. Just distance. Just enough to stop thinking.
A vehicle passed slowly on the road. I barely glanced at it. Then something tugged at my memory.
I looked again.
Black SUV.
My pace slowed slightly.
Where had I seen that before? The vehicle continued down the tree-lined road, and I frowned as I watched it go. Maybe it was nothing. Probably nothing. Still, something about it felt familiar, nagging at the back of my mind in a way I couldn't quite ignore.
I watched it disappear around a bend. Then I noticed the license plate.
CMV2005.
The numbers lodged themselves in my brain for some reason.
I couldn't explain why.
Maybe it was because the SUV felt familiar, because of everything that had happened lately, or because I was becoming paranoid.
I shook it off and kept running.
Twenty minutes later, I turned onto a trail that circled back toward the lake. My thoughts had finally started to settle.
Then I froze.
My stomach dropped.
Because parked near the trail entrance was a black SUV.
The same black SUV.
And the same vanity plate.
CMV2005.
My pulse kicked up instantly. The vehicle wasn't moving. It wasn't leaving. It was just sitting there.
Waiting.
And for the first time, I wasn't sure the feeling in my stomach was paranoia.
The SUV's windows were too dark to see inside.
I stood there for a second too long, staring at it.
Then the engine started.
A chill raced down my spine.
The vehicle pulled away slowly, disappearing around the curve of the road.
But the uneasy feeling stayed with me.
Because whoever had been sitting inside now knew exactly where to find me.