Chapter 24 Lily
LILY
Ifeel like I’m being torn apart, and every moment of loaded silence makes it worse. Bitterness swirls inside of me. I am angry at the world, at Brady, at myself for acting out of spite instead of keeping a clear head, and at Logan, who’s constantly sending me mixed signals.
He obviously can’t stand me, and despite that, he hit a man who scared me—just to make me feel like I am the worst thing that had happened to him in the past ten years. Refuses to hold my hand; but tells me I’m his moments later.
With Logan, a stomach full of butterflies feels a little too much like anxiety.
Rockwell rounds the corner in a black minivan, and the collective groan coming from the guys stops my racing thoughts. I have to squeeze into the last row, right between Max and Logan, as if I am a human shield to prevent conflicts. Which is funny since I am the reason for most of them.
Charlie is getting comfortable in the passenger seat after Sam makes it clear that the entire middle row belongs to him and that he isn’t in the mood for a discussion.
I snuggle closer to Max, who strokes over my hand, and rest my head against his shoulder.
Logan glances over at us, nods to himself, and turns his head the other way.
Excluding himself like he wants to bring an entire continent between me and him, and I wish I’d understand why he refuses to let me go.
The men are silent, and soon, the sound of the running engine combined with the radio on low volume lulls me to sleep. When I wake up, the sun is high in the sky, and something warm rests on my thigh.
It’s Logan’s hand, but the small token of affection is taken away once we leave the interstate, and he stirs awake. He pulls his hand away, and upon noticing that I am awake, Max kisses the top of my head, distracting me from the way Logan’s cold shoulder treatment hurts.
The houses we pass become more and more luxurious, and as I catch a glimpse of the ocean, my mouth drops open.
“Damn, it looks even better than in the pictures Ruby sent me,” Max says, causing Sam to turn around.
“You talked her into buying the damn house, didn’t you?”
“I supported her decision because I am a good friend, Samuel. You’re the only person on earth who’d complain about owning a beach house.”
“I’m not complaining.” Sam groans as he stretches his legs, and a sharp inhale comes from Charlie when Sam accidentally kicks against the back of his seat.
“I just think something smaller would have been fine too. Should have known which direction she was headed when she kept on talking about how she and Mochi would benefit from daily walks on the beach.”
The navigation system leads Rockwell down a short driveway, and as we get out of the car, I blink a few times to confirm what I’m seeing is real.
Houses like this only collide with my reality when I’m watching TV. My parents made enough money for us to live a comfortable life, but they aren’t rich. And once I married Brady and we moved away, I learned how life feels when you have to pinch your pennies.
Sam rushes past me as the front door opens. His wife is half his size, and it’s adorable how far he has to bow down to kiss her. There seems to be a fixed greeting order in place because as soon as Sam lets go of Ruby, she and Max hug each other in a way that looks like it hurts.
Meeting new people tends to stress me out, so when I hear Charlie cursing to himself, I turn around to see what’s going on—and to delay having to introduce myself.
He’s emptying the trunk of the van, almost losing his balance when he tries to carry all of our bags at once, and I rush over to help him.
“Thanks,” he says, but loud barking drowns out the sound of his voice. The moment I take my bag from him, something comes dashing out of the house, a huge mass of white tackling Charlie to the ground.
“Down, Mochi,” Charlie pants, but the dog doesn’t seem too impressed and licks over his face instead.
“That’s what you get for spoiling her,” Ruby says. She laughs while she tries to get the ecstatic dog off of Charlie, but gives up soon and turns to me instead.
A big smile spreads on her face, and all of a sudden, I am back in high school. She is beautiful, her confidence evident in the way she carries herself, and my teenage self just waits for her to tell me I can’t sit at her table.
Finding my manners an embarrassing second too late, I hold out my hand to greet her. Ruby looks down at it, her eyebrows furrowing. Great, new record. Not even a minute, and I made a fool of myself.
“This isn’t a business meeting.” Chuckling, she pushes my hand away and hugs me. This is exactly why meeting new people gives me a stomach ache.
“So, you’re the mysterious Lily,” she says, and I can’t do more than nod. “I’m so happy to meet you.”
The smile on Ruby’s face is so warm and welcoming that it eases my anxiety a bit. She grabs my hand and leads me into the house.
“You three have the biggest guest room. If the guys get on your nerves, just banish them from the bed. The couch is big enough for two people.”
“Stop giving her ideas, peanut,” Logan scolds, interrupting my and Ruby’s one-sided conversation.
Her house is even more impressive from the inside. The patio doors are open, and a pleasant breeze blows through the sunlight-flooded living room. I can smell the ocean, and I could probably hear it if the others weren’t yelling over each other.
“Throw your bags somewhere and then sit down,” Ruby says. “Sit. Down,” she repeats more sternly after not getting the reaction she wants, and it’s like witnessing a magic trick.
All five men sit down on the couch, Logan opting for the seat farthest away from Max and I as Ruby walks over to a cabinet and comes back carrying a weird-looking suitcase.
“Phones,” she says, collecting one after the other until she reaches me. “Yours too, just in case.”
I don’t know why I’m a part of whatever is going on, but I hand her my phone anyway.
Ruby turns on the TV and plugs a USB stick in. Various documents and pictures appear on the screen, a few mugshots among them, and Rockwell’s expression grows darker with every single photo that pops up.
“Samuel, that was confidential.”
“Sorry.” Sam sighs, scratching his neck. “Can’t keep anything secret from her,” he says, pulling his wife onto his lap. “Feels wrong.”
“And it’s not like you’ve got anything substantial yet,” Ruby adds.
Max tenses and squeezes my hand before he speaks up.
“What the hell is going on here? Who’s that guy?” he points at the mugshots, “and the more pressing question, what the fuck has all of this to do with me? Is this why you want to send me away?” he asks, looking at Rockwell.
“Two separate problems.”
“Well, then start with the one involving me.”
“I recommended you as the leader of a newly formed task force in Virginia—“
“But he’s not going to Virginia,” Logan interrupts Rockwell. “He’s not going fucking anywhere.”
“You don’t know when to stop, do you? I just want what’s best for Max; I want him to have the career he deserves without constantly having to worry about the next obstacle Sanders throws our way. But no, Cabrera has to be a self-centered prick. What a surprise.”
Max wants to get up, but upon seeing the nervous look on my face, he takes a deep breath and stays seated.
“Could you please stop talking about me as if I’m a kid?
Only if it’s not too much of a hassle,” he says, shaking his head.
“I’m grateful you trust me so much that you recommended me, really, but I’m not going.
Not because someone decides for me,” he says, narrowing his eyes while he looks at Logan, “but because I don’t want to work anywhere else.
My place is here as a part of Task Force Phoenix.
With you, captain, with Sam, with Charlie—yes, even with you, Logan. ”
Logan rolls his eyes, and Max continues.
“Sanders isn’t the first asshole crossing our paths, and he won’t be the last. We’ll get through this together, and if he takes it too far, we’ll just give Logan a machete and look the other way.”
“God, I’d enjoy that,” Logan mumbles to himself, and Ruby impatiently taps on Sam’s thigh.
“We still need to talk about the other problem.” She grabs the remote, and Rockwell’s jaw clenches as Ruby enlarges a few pictures.
One of them shows a group of five people in uniform, standing in the desert. If Rockwell looked at me like he looks at Ruby right now, I would hand him the remote and apologize for my existence.
In the group picture, a much younger Rockwell is leaning against a Humvee, his hand resting on the shoulder of a woman in front of him.
Judging by the build, I’d say the man standing next to Rockwell is Sam, a black balaclava hiding his face.
The next one in line is the guy from the mugshots, and the last one can only be described as massive, a black spot covering the part of the picture where his face should be, as if someone deliberately tampered with the file.
“Who’s the faceless monster?” Logan asks.
“Damon,” Rockwell answers. “He was our PSYOP specialist. Was a bit—eccentric, but this isn’t about him.”
Ruby pushes a button on the remote, looking pleased with herself when highlights appear around the guy standing next to her husband.
“Carter Delaney.” Rockwell sounds tired, as if simply saying the name brings back a lifetime of bad memories. “In 2019, he was arrested for espionage and was sentenced to twenty-five years. Sounds bad enough, eh? A few weeks ago, I was informed that they want to press fresh charges.”
“Why?” Max asks, and I am apparently uncomfortable enough for Ruby’s dog to notice because Mochi trots over and puts her head on my thighs.
“Allegedly, he killed an officer back then. Buried him in some place in bumfuck nowhere after he interrupted a meeting with his co-conspirators. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. The local police station got an anonymous tip two months ago.”
“So, do you think he did it?”