Between Octobers Bk 1, Savor The Days Series (36 page)

When I closed my eyes, my mind painted
pictures of his aching expression, hiding in the shadows of his
room, half-covered in a towel. His eyes were wondrous; furiously
trying to figure out why I reacted so keenly, as if he honestly had
no idea that what he was doing was wrong.

The guilt built up in me, towering over my
anger. I said I didn’t know him. I called him a liar after he
confessed.

My phone rang, again. I opened and closed it
without thinking. Several people were staring, and what a spectacle
I must have been: mascara running, red circles and black lines
under my eyes, a pink running nose and damp red hair with highly
visible blonde roots. I probably looked like a clown. I thought
briefly of putting on Noah’s clown nose and almost smiled.

Evan deserved some sort of response. I
couldn’t leave him hanging the way he was. Too much of a coward to
call, I typed out a text:

-I can handle the truth, no matter how bad
you think it is. I can’t stomach being lied to. You know this. Give
me some time. Sorry.

An apology was certainly appropriate. It
would have been nice if he offered his first, since this whole
thing was his fault. But I shouldn’t wait for that. My mother used
to say there was no pride where love was concerned. If you owed an
apology, you gave it. It didn’t matter whose fault it was.

But . . . maybe, in this case, we both
needed a little time to stew. I deleted the last word and hit
send.

He lied to me and I loathed being lied to
more than anything. I thought I’d made that clear. I expected to
receive no less honesty than I gave myself. It wasn’t a ridiculous
one-sided standard—I held myself to it. He, knowing this, looked me
dead in the eye and pretended to be unaware of what I was asking.
But my leaving wasn’t helpful if he was doing something dangerous.
Evan had told me several times he had trouble sleeping. I knew,
from personal experience, he was a wreck if he didn’t get at least
five hours. So, should I have been so surprised to find that he had
taken something to keep him up during the day? Maybe not. But
someone else’s prescription drugs? That was so dangerous. What was
he thinking?

My blood boiled. Did he think I wouldn’t see
what he was doing? Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he thought I would
let it go if he played stupid. As if I should have such low
expectations!

My shoulders slumped as I remembered the
hateful way I treated him. I bit my non-existent nails, thinking of
how upset I was about the whole thing with Noah and ignoring it.
That was a mistake. He would’ve talked it out, but I put it off.
That had to contribute.

At my car in
the overnight lot, I shoved the key into the ignition and
started her up. I reached for my phone and turned it on. There was
a message from Evan:

-Please call. I can’t take your silence.

My eyes filled to the brim, bringing out the
sobs I held inside on the flight home. I was a bad person and a
really horrible wife.

I cried until the pressure felt relieved and
then called work to tell them I couldn’t make it. There was no way
I could get through a twelve-hour shift on no sleep. And my job was
too important to do half awake.

All I wanted was to crawl into bed, pull the
covers up over my head, and wait for the day to be over. When I
worked up the courage to call Evan, I’d be the first to
apologize.

At home, I followed my instincts and headed
straight to bed. As I turned to face my clock and check the time, a
note taped to the front blocked out the numbers. I plucked it up
and read:

Grace—

Evan called. He wants you to call him when
you get this. He sounded upset. The kids were good. I got them off
to school, now I’m off to work. If you need to talk, call.

Lily

I considered Evan sitting in his room, alone
and distraught, making midnight phone calls. He must have kept her
up half the night. That meant he didn’t sleep. I set the note down
and closed my eyes.

Something on the
edge
of consciousness stirred. A sinking feeling near
my feet. Moving to stretch, I touched something with my toes and
shot up to a sitting position. My heart raced while my eyes tried
to focus on the disturbance. I blinked and rubbed until the blur
came into focus.

Evan was sitting on the end of the bed. His
hair was messier than usual, his eyes puffy. Staring at the floor,
he peeked solemnly from under his lashes.

“You have to help me, Gracie. This is the
one good thing I have. Don’t let me screw this up, please. You
can’t leave me.”

My heart tore open. “Is that what you think
I did? Evan, no.”

I held my arms out wide, waiting for him to
fill the void. He shook his head, refusing. They fell at my sides,
empty. I used them to shove off the bed and knelt before him to
catch his eye, as his gaze was still fixed on the floor. “I could
never, would never, ever leave you.”

He turned from me. I pressed closer to him,
he moved again.

“Stay still,” I commanded, getting up and
sitting across his lap in my favorite snuggle position.

“Why?” His arms embraced me
automatically.

“Everything about you was made just for me.”
I leaned in to kiss him. He moved and my lips caught his cheek.
“Don’t,” I took his jaw and moved him into position. “I want to
kiss you. Will you let me?”

He granted permission with a slow nod. I
did, sweet and gentle. And suddenly burning for more. I gripped his
hair in my fingers. The intense desire was fiery from the inside
out. Magnificent. His heat engulfed me and I had to have him.

“Shouldn’t we talk first?” His lips spoke
soberly against mine.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, “I was mean. I know
you. I love you. Can you forgive me?”

He pressed one hand against me, pushing
back. “Gracie. Hear me out. I betrayed your trust. First with the
truck, with Noah, and then . . . I was afraid of what you’d think
of me.”

I took his face in my hands. “The lies hurt;
never the truth, Evan.”

He placed his hands over mine and drew them
down to his lap. “Gracie, the truth is, I don’t know how to be
married.” His brow furrowed. “Then, with the kids—it’s hard for me.
I don’t know where the boundaries are and it makes me feel like
shit when you point them out.”

He locked eyes with me, his gaze pleading,
“I want, more than anything, to deserve what you give me. It’s like
you see something in me that I don’t see in myself. It makes me
want to give you everything and I end up making promises I have no
way of living up to. I have no idea what comes after ‘I love you’.
Can’t you understand?”

“I didn’t know there were boundaries until I
felt them, and the last thing I want is to make you feel bad. But
we have to be honest with each other. What do we have if we don’t
have trust?”

“No more lying, I promise.” His eyes were
wide with sincerity.

I felt the distance disappear. “Everything
is okay,” I assured him, staring at his beautiful face as he took
hold of my waist. “Can I please, kiss you now?”

“I’ll let you do more than that.” He
smirked, leaning into me.

Greedily, I ran my hands over the angular
line of his scruffy jaw, the perfect swell in his chest, and the
muscular lines of his arms. The feel of him sent my senses into
overload. Of all the gorgeous parts of him, there was no sight more
stunning than the way he looked at me. I was besotted, staring into
the face of a man in love. There was nothing in the world sexier
than that.

He laid me down and we picked up where we
left off in San Francisco.

Turning Point

Halfway through the second turn, I feel a
sudden, petrifying urge. Before I can think it through, my feet
come to a screeching halt.

The moon has disappeared, again. The
instinct of flight is overpowered by a growing dread. I search for
the gloomy shapes, turning from one side to the other in a sudden
mass of confusion. I can’t tell which direction I came from, and
have no idea where to go. The shades of gray that carved my
immediate path are gone.

Why did I look back?

I try to mimic the rotation in reverse, but
can’t be sure if I’m facing my original direction, and I can’t feel
the natural line in the earth I followed to this place. The wind
that blew at my back is gone. I hear its blustering whistle, but no
longer feel it. Chirping crickets and leaves disappear in the
howling wind. All is violently still.

The silence I ran towards has become a
plunging nightmare. I’m trapped, ensnared by black. Every flitter
of a wing, every shiver up my spine is my hunter, stalking. I
strain to find the bounding beam of the flashlight, but there’s
nothing. Only fear and the resounding flux of my heart.

The stress throbs continuously in my head
and shoulder. I try to take my pulse, but my tremulous fingers
cannot feel. The skin of my hands and forearms are on fire. My
pleas are quiet sobs given to the crease of my elbow.

My sweaty hair whips in a sudden arctic
blast that swirls, caking me with dirt. As I step back, something
brushes against me. I jump, spinning in mid-air, throwing my hands
over my belly, but can’t see anything. No shape of a shadow within
the shadows, and no presence. Driven by a nauseating sense of
importance, I reach out. The black is cold and hard against my
fingertips. A huge rock, stretching higher and further than I can
reach.

There’s a sense of security in the stone. An
assurance no one can grab me from behind. There’s nothing to see in
any direction, but the wind is blowing in short, freezing
bursts.

I lock my lips around my chattering teeth,
waiting, hoping the wind will move the clouds again, needing
moonlight for guidance. I curl against the solid mass, drawing down
the hiked sleeves of my sweatshirt with my teeth and pulling the
strings to tighten the hood around my face. Crouching down on my
ankles, I run my numb fingers along the ground, searching for
anything to help. I find the point of something hard, and dig
around it. It feels long and solid, sharp at one side. I angle the
odd-shaped stone between my knees and try to cut through the tie on
my wrists. But shivers rock my body as I work. Each time, I drop
the stone and have to start again.

My head snaps up when I hear the crackling
of feet. The light falls into view a moment later. My eyes follow
the dim beam carried by my tracker. I grip the stone with rigid
fingers, clutching the scream in my mouth. A taste of blood lingers
on my tongue.

Please don’t let her see me . . .

In the same second I make the prayer, the
light of the high moon peeks from behind a thin cloud. There’s the
black shape of my stalker, running down the slope. The flashlight’s
pointed at the ground.

I look around while the dim holds, hoping to
mark a means of escape. Off to the right, only the high wall. To my
left, the gray ground suddenly ends. I hold the gasp, looking down
into the nothingness, a chasm, inches from my hiding place. So
close, my feet automatically pull me back. I’m tucked near the edge
in the mouth of a natural recess against a giant rock wall. The
slight turn I took carried me away from the deadly ridge and into
safety. Had I not turned when I did, I might have run right off the
edge. If I hadn’t stopped so suddenly, I might’ve smacked into the
rock and fell.

As my mind registers the immediate danger of
the stalker and the narrow avoidance of my own death, the sickening
realization creeps in. There’s nowhere left to run. When she sees
the emptiness ahead, she’ll have to turn. And she’ll find us.
Defenseless.

I look to the rock. To the creeping beam,
bouncing down the graded ground. Soon, she’ll come to the bottom
where the ground swells. The small hillock where I turned. I gaze
up to the moon, measuring how long the light will last against how
long it will take her to reach the spot.

A little while longer and it will all be
over. A little more death and I will die in the most complete
sense. I have, already, in so many ways. My mother and father took
with them my security, an entire life full of moments of my past
and theirs, which would never be recovered. Those memories that
were solely theirs—the exact day I took my first steps, the first
time I laughed out loud. The precise words my father used when he
proposed to my mother and the way she felt when she heard. The
advice she might’ve given when I told her how I liked a boy—all of
it’s gone because they are.

And Solomon. Every tie so closely entwined
in him was severed when he departed. Evan—my great love and father
to his unknown heir.

Each incident has been an uncompromising,
uprooting, and earth-rending heartbreak that’s killed pieces of me.
If it were only me, I could live through my own ending, but how can
I let the inevitable strike, knowing I’m not the only one
affected?

She was going to bury us. The trouble she’s
taken to follow me this far only proves she’s determined to finish
what she started.

The wind picks up again, thrusting the
clouds across the sky and taking my light. I strain to see the
black against black, taking aim.

The rock lands with a loud smack and bounces
out of knowledge. I hear the crumbling earth and see the light
carry up the hillock, gaining speed as it goes. The stride is fast,
full of misguided expectancy.

I started taking birth control pills the
month after I turned fifteen. When I got my first period, Aunt Rose
took me to the gynecologist. It was the exact opposite of what my
mother would’ve wanted and I kind of resented her for it at the
time, but I was raised to do what I was told. So I did. I took them
faithfully and still got pregnant three times.