Chapter Twenty-Three #2
At my silence, pain flashed through Riley's eyes.
With a hard nod of his head, he said, “Fine.
I don't know why I'd be surprised. When have you ever believed in me?
The first time we hit a rough spot, you sent your brother to dump me and took off.
That's your M.O., isn't it? Things get hard, and you run. You shut down, lock me out."
"That's not fair," I protested.
"Who said any of this was fair? I lied to you at the beginning. I'm sorry for that. But we have a second chance. How many people ever get a second chance? And you're throwing it away because of a mistake I made over a decade ago. You don't have the guts to take a risk."
"That's not fair," I repeated, this time in a whisper.
"You're twisting things. You didn't just lie once, a decade ago.
You kept lying until I caught you a few days ago.
Big difference. And I didn't run away because I was afraid of the risk, I ran to keep you safe, you asshole.
Maybe it was wrong, but I did it because I loved you. "
"If that's the story you want to tell yourself," Riley said.
"From where I'm standing, this is the same thing all over again.
You want to believe Knox? You want to think I'm the one doing this?
Have at it. I'm not going to beg you to believe in me.
I shouldn't have to. And when we catch this guy, and you have proof it's not me, don't come asking me to give you another chance. "
He turned and left the dining room. His boots echoed through the entry hall, followed by the slam of the front door.
Knox picked up the plastic bag holding the black jeweler's box. “Stay inside. Set the alarm behind me. I don't like that this guy was so close to the house. Until Riley gets back, keep the alarm on, and don't go anywhere."
"Got it," I said.
So much for photographing the peonies. I wanted to ask him if he really believed his accusations against Riley. Before the question could fully form in my mind, I knew there was no point in asking.
What Knox thought didn't matter.
I was afraid to trust Riley. Afraid to trust myself. But I knew, down to my bones, that Riley would never hurt me. Not like this. He'd lied. A lot. But sending those flowers, my mother's earrings, fabricating his own accident and near overdose. There was no way.
I followed Knox to the door and watched him drive away, Riley in the passenger seat of the big black SUV.
When Riley came back, I'd talk to him. We couldn't go on as we were, and he was right.
If I wanted any kind of life, with or without him, I had to stop running.
I had to stop being afraid to risk my heart.
Easier said than done. I locked the door and set the alarm, the quiet suddenly oppressive.
Abel was at the market. Mrs. W was running errands.
Sophie and Aunt Amelia were out with Charlie, but they’d said they’d be back for lunch in an hour or so.
The house was big, but rarely empty, especially since Sophie and Aunt Amelia had moved in, even less so since Gage had come home.
Any other day I would have savored the quiet, but the specter of the stalker coming so close to the gatehouse to leave his gift of my mother’s earrings made me uneasy.
The alarm system, with its cameras and motion sensors, was a safety blanket.
What if he’d gotten to more than the cameras?
What if he had a way around the door or window sensors? What if he was inside the house?
Panic had my heart racing. I took a deep breath, then another, and walked down the hall to my rooms in a measured, controlled pace. Knox would not have left if he thought the alarm was compromised. Sophie, Mrs. W, Abel, Amelia, and Charlie would all be home soon.
In the meantime, I had work to do. I sat at my desk and flipped open my laptop. Time slipped away as I flipped through the photographs I had stored there, evaluating each one, trying to decide what was worth a second look.
The stiffness in my neck felt as if I'd been sitting there for hours, but it couldn’t have been that long. When I heard the beep of the alarm being deactivated, I stood and stretched. I'd go help Mrs. W unload her purchases, maybe help Abel make lunch if he’d let me.
I'd barely cleared my bedroom door when an arm came up, closing around my neck, cranking tight against my windpipe and cutting off my air.
My mouth gaping like a fish, I reached up to claw at my captor.
A sharp sting flared behind my ear, growing, heating, spreading through my veins like fire, leaving me weak and dizzy.
My vision blurred and swooped as I was turned upside down, hanging over a shoulder, my hair swinging, almost dragging across the hardwood floor. Where were we going? Down the hall? Did I hear the door close?
My head spun. I thought I smelled freshly cut grass, flowers. The damp, loamy scent of the woods. Where was the sun? I couldn’t get my bearings, couldn’t force my mind to function.
I blinked, trying to clear my eyes, seeing only the blur of dark shoes below lighter pants, hearing only the shuffle of feet and the heavy sound of breathing. My vision faded to grey and my brain shut down before I could save myself.
Was I dying? I could be dying. I wasn’t ready. I wanted my second chance.
A second chance to save myself.
A second chance at everything.