Just a Little (5-8) (19 page)

CHAPTER TEN

Tuesday, April 09 | 6:00 p.m.

Luke, Matt, Kara, and I watched as Derek walked away from the cabin and disappeared into the woods with his luggage in hand. Luke spent hours trying to reason with him; honestly, he did more than that. He
begged
that Derek stay and wait it out with the rest of us. As much as they had their differences, Luke hated watching Derek leave. He knew, as we all did, that he couldn’t protect someone who didn’t want to be protected.

“When are you ever going to tell us what was said out there in those woods?” Kara asked, but I kept looking on.

I kept praying that Derek would turn around and come back, but the longer I waited, the more I realized that just wasn’t going to happen.

Not long after he’d told me to go after what I wanted, Derek decided it would be best to head back home to Oakland. He didn’t want me thinking that he’d left for good; he swore he’d never abandon me again. But he felt like it’d be better to get some distance while I sorted my feelings for Luke. And while I understood, I hated watching him go.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” I said, and I started to turn for the door.

But Matt took my wrist and pulled me back, giving me a gentle hug. He didn’t have to say a word, but I knew what his gesture meant.

Before all of this had started—long before Conan Milton had ever escaped from prison—Matt and I had had a pretty nasty argument. He’d sworn off my friendship, claiming that Luke was in the right, and I was in the wrong. And though a month had passed since I’d blown up at him, he and I hadn’t patched things up. I went about my life, and he went about his. It wasn’t until the prison break that we both took a step back and let things fall into perspective. And I guess his hug was just his silent attempt at trying to put the past behind us, and I was really okay with that.

The next few hours passed slowly, and had it not been for Kara’s constant neck massages and words of encouragement, I might’ve died.

I’d already made up my mind a long time ago. I’d already set my sights on a future with Luke; I’d known for forever that Derek would never be anything more… but hearing him give up, watching him walk away… it still broke my heart in ways I couldn’t understand. I think—more than anything else—I truly feared losing his friendship. I didn’t want Luke to come between us again.

Matt must’ve sensed it, or maybe Kara nudged him in that direction, but he’d soon caught on to the fact that what I really needed was some time alone with Luke. Though I’d had plenty of time with him prior to their arrival, I hadn’t taken the opportunity to talk about all the things that needed to be said.

When Matt told Luke that he was going to take Kara into town for a private dinner, Luke didn’t argue; he didn’t seem all too pleased that two of his biggest responsibilities were walking out the door unattended, but he seemed to be more focused on the fact that his
biggest
responsibility needed a little extra attention.

When the two love birds were gone and out of sight, Luke plopped down on the couch next to me and nudged my shoulder with his.

“I’m getting really good at saying this,” he said, trying not to smile. “But I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I asked, dropping my head back to stare at the ceiling.

“I thought asking him to come would help you,” he said. “I didn’t know—”

“It’s okay,” I said, but I didn’t look at him. Luke took my hand in his, held it tight, and caressed my fingers. I closed my eyes and let the warmth of his skin heat against mine. “Can I ask you something?” I asked, but I didn’t give him time to answer. “Can we just… go home?”

Luke’s finger stopped brushing mine. I felt him sit a little straighter, and he cleared his throat.

“You want to go home?”

“I don’t see how it’s doing us any good hiding out. I never imagined the search for Milton would take this long. There are hundreds of people stranded back home on lockdown. Because of me….”

“Jules—”

“I know,” I said, opening my eyes. I finally lifted my head to look at him, but I didn’t let his sad eyes sway me. “I’m safer here, yes. But this could go on for years, Luke. And I’m done running. I didn’t see it before, or at least I didn’t want to risk it… but Derek was right. The longer I run, the longer Milton runs. Why not go home and just end it while we can?”

“You’d be putting your life in serious danger—”

“My life’s already in serious danger,” I said, trying to reason with him. “All we’re doing is making it harder for him to find me, that’s all.”

“That’s really what you want?” he asked, taking a deep breath. He wanted to fight me; I could see the fight brewing deep in his eyes. He wanted to say a million manipulative things, but he fought every urge.

“Yes. This ends tonight. No more running. No more.”

“Well, then,” he said, glancing around the cabin. “I guess we should start cleaning up.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, and I rolled off the couch.

Luke and I spent the next two hours packing our clothes—though he didn’t have half as much to clean up as I did—and giving the cabin a good tidying up. It was dreary, I’ll admit. A thunderstorm rolled through, shaking the cabin every few minutes with a loud bang. Strikes of lightning would light up the cabin in small intervals. The rain just fell… it poured so hard I worried that the roads might flood.

But we kept cleaning.

Luke spent most of his time in the kitchen throwing out anything that he didn’t feel could be left behind or salvageable after a long trip home. The cabin spruce-up didn’t last long, and we could’ve left hours before had Matt and Kara returned.

“Hate to break it to you, Little,” Luke said as the clock struck 11 p.m. and a clap of thunder shook the cabin. “I don’t think we’re going anywhere tonight.” He peeked out the window before closing the curtain again.

“Luke,” I said, ignoring the fact that he’d just told me that we were going to have to spend another night in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t really care about that right then. My heart had already focused elsewhere. “You asked me a few questions the other night.”

“Right.”

“And now I’m curious… what about you?”

“What
about
me?”

“What do you want from life? I mean, from the outside looking in, it looks like you’ve pretty much gotten everything a person could want. You have a great education, your dream job, a beautiful apartment. You’re doing really well for yourself.”

“Yeah, from the outside looking in,” he said, repeating what I’d said. “I guess I do.”

Luke and I sat quietly as the rain let up. After a few minutes, there was nothing left but the subtle pitter patter of small drops as the tail end of the storm moved out.

“Well,” I said after Luke hadn’t answered my question. I looked up at the clock. “I guess if we’re staying I should probably get a shower in. I don’t wanna fight Matt for hot water in the morning. I get enough of that crap at home.”

Luke nodded but didn’t say anything.

I tried to overcome my hesitancy as I stood up, retrieved my bag from the doorway, and rolled it into the bathroom behind me. I closed the door and put my suitcase aside. Propping my hands on the sink in front of me, I stared in the mirror and watched my reflection. It was the first time in a long time that I’d actually stopped to look at myself. My eyes had grown tired and heavy, but it wasn’t just from a few restless nights. It was the combination of sleepless months, weeks of anxiety, and day after day of facing the unknown.

I dropped my head and closed my eyes, but no sooner than I took a breath, a loud crash filled the cabin outside the bathroom.

Again, for only the second time in my life, I felt my body solidify. My nerves stopped; my heart didn’t race. I managed, though I’ll never know how, to muster a few deep breaths, and I finally stood straighter.

I reached for the door knob, and just as my hand grasped the brass, another loud crash filled the air. This time I didn’t hesitate, but swung the door open and stared at the source of the clatter.

“Luke,” I whispered, dropping my shoulders.

I watched as he knelt on the floor in front of the cabinets, shuffling pots and pans, re-stacking, and reorganizing them.

He looked up from the floor with two pots in hand, managed a faint smile, and shrugged, “Restless.”

“Yeah,” I tried not to read too much into his compulsive behavior, “but you already cleaned the kitchen, remember?”

“I know,” he said as if he didn’t need reminding. “I just want to make sure we leave everything how we found it, that’s all.” He nodded back at the bathroom. “Just take your shower, Julie. I’ve got this under control.”

“Okay,” I said, but I didn’t turn back. I stood in the doorway and watched as Luke fumbled with a few pans, stacking them neatly by width and depth.

A few minutes passed, and he didn’t seem to notice that I was still watching him. It was only after he was done reorganizing that I took a step back to shut the bathroom door. I stopped again almost immediately. Luke studied his job for a moment, and then he reached back under the cabinet and started pulling the pans out again.

“Luke,” I said, and this time he jumped.

“Holy shit, Little,” he muttered, and then he shook his head, “what are you doing?”

“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” I nodded at the pots he’d pulled back out.

He looked down at his hands, set the pots aside on the counter, and nodded a couple of times as if that should’ve answered my question.

“Let me guess,” I humored him. “It’s not what it looks like?”

“No, it’s
exactly
what it looks like, and I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Luke—”

“It’s just anxiety, Julie,” he diverted his eyes. “That’s all it is.”

“I think it’s more than that.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Yeah, you said that,” I nodded only once. I took a step forward and reached for his hand, but he quickly pulled it back. “Luke, I’m not going to stand here and pretend I know what it’s like. I don’t. But… maybe talking about it will help—”

“What am I supposed to say?” he dropped his shoulders as if completely defeated. “What do you want to hear, Julie?”

“The truth.”

He swallowed hard and then looked up at me.

“Listen,” he said, and his voice was as soft and kind as it’d been when he’d been honest with me. “You asked me to prove myself, not through words but through actions. You said that’s what you needed from me.”

“Yeah,” I whispered and gently nodded.

“But I need something from you too, Julie,” he said, and his eyes got a little wetter.

“Anything.”

“I need you to let me come to you in my own time,” he said. “Not just about this, but about everything. I’ll talk when I’m ready to talk, but you can’t keep forcing yourself into situations where you don’t belong.”

“I only want to help.”

“I get that,” he nodded. “Truly, I do. But when you do that, when you weasel your way in, all you do is push people further away.” He looked back at the pots, pans, and down to the open cabinet doors. “I don’t want to talk about this. Not with you, not with my family, and not with a therapist. I want to deal with this on my own time and in my own way. I love you, Julie, but I’m
not
the only one here who has problems to work on.”

“But Luke—”

“Please,” he finally reached forward to take my hand, “I’m not trying to push you away or shut you out. I’m sure that’s how it feels. I
know
you want to know, and I
know
you want to help. I love you for that, but there’s a time and place for your insane, hovering, overbearing love.” He shrugged. “But you don’t
always
have to be in the center of everything, Julie. Sometimes it’s better not to know.”

I nodded, and Luke tightened his grip on my hand.

“Come here,” he pulled me closer. My head landed against his chest as he wrapped his arms around me and smothered me beneath his strong hold. “I love you, kid.”

“I love you, too,” I whispered, burying my face in my shoulder. After a few minutes of complete bliss in the arms of the man I loved, I summoned the strength to back away and nodded at the floor. “I’ll let you get back to that.”

He looked down and nodded, so I headed back for the bathroom. Just as I reached the threshold, I turned to find Luke back on the floor and settling in to organize the cabinet once again.

“Hey, Luke,” I said, immediately eliciting his stare. He lifted his brows and watched me curiously as I leaned in the doorway. “Thank you.”

“For what, kid?”

“Your honesty,” I said, and he smiled.

“Anytime.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Tuesday, April 09 | 11:00 p.m.

I left Luke to work on his task and retreated to the bathroom for my much-needed shower. I turned on the water, stripped my clothes to the floor, and kicked them to the corner. Once the water was at the perfect temperature—as hot as I could possibly stand it—I stepped into the tub and pulled the shower curtain closed.

I heard another loud crash in the kitchen as I started to rinse my hair.

I dropped my head and closed my eyes, knowing that Luke’s frustration was one he’d have to deal with on his own. He didn’t want my help, didn’t want me to interfere, and he wanted to handle it all on his own.

I had to respect that.

I lathered my hair into a big, soapy mess just as I heard the bathroom door click open, and the breeze from the doorway caused a small wave in the shower curtain.

“Luke,” I chuckled as I rinsed the shampoo from my scalp.

“Hmm?”

“I think the next topic of discussion needs to be the little issue of recognizing boundaries.” The door shut with the tiniest click, and I scrunched my brow. “One of those boundaries, dear, is respecting my privacy while I’m in the shower.”

I paused and waited for him to answer, but the room stayed relatively quiet. I finished rinsing the shampoo away, wiped some bubbles from my face, and listened more closely.

“Luke?” I asked, wringing my hair. “You still there?”

When he didn’t answer, I stepped out of the stream and pulled the shower curtain back, but only far enough to stick my head out.

It wasn’t Luke’s stare that I met.

As I watched the cold blue eyes from the other side of the room, I felt as if I’d been punched in the stomach, as if some unknowable force had just ripped through my body and knocked the wind right out of me.

I tried to find my voice to yell for help, but all I could manage was a scream.

I’d come face-to-face with the one man I’d always prayed I’d never have to meet.

Conan Milton stood only feet away, his back leaning against the bathroom door, his arms folded at his chest, and one foot crossed in front of the other as he watched me with a playful grin.

I threw the shower curtain closed again and backed as far into the corner as I possibly could. My heart slammed against my chest, and for several long seconds, I seriously considered the fact that I might have a heart-attack right there in the shower.

Where was Luke? Why hadn’t he stopped Conan? Why wasn’t he forcing his way through the door to help me?

I screamed for Luke once again, but the scream barely left my body. I banged on the walls, praying that he would come for me, but I couldn’t hear anything outside the bathroom.

“Julie Little,” a baritone voice said slowly outside the shower, and I sank to the floor and held my knees against my naked chest.

I forced my hand over my mouth and tried to restrain my sobs, but nothing, not even the shower water, could curtail the sound of my cries.

“Just like your mother,” he said, and his voice was thick. “Beautiful
and
stupid.”

I dropped my face into my knees and cried, but I couldn’t tell which drops came from the shower head and which were my own tears. The water fell on me, pelting my body relentlessly as I sat bawling in the tub.

“If you’re going to kill me, please just kill me,” I heard myself whispering, and the faint echo of my words resounded through the room.

“I’m going to, sweetheart,” he said, and his assurance didn’t make me feel any better, “but I thought we could have a little heart-to-heart first.”

“Please, just kill me—”

“Can’t do
that
,” he said, and his voice only got closer. “Not just yet.”

I could hear his footsteps growing closer to the shower, but they stopped short of the curtain. I lifted my head and watched as his shadow hovered nearby, but then he sank down to sit on the toilet. After a few brief moments of silence, he cleared his throat. “You know what my favorite part of freedom is?”

I kept shaking—cold, though the water was hot—and I didn’t dare answer him. I rocked myself, praying for some kind of miracle, but every time I closed my eyes I went right back to Luke.

Where was he?

I simply kept my head low and hoped that whatever was going to happen would just happen. I didn’t need the torture; I didn’t need to hear his voice. All I wanted was an easy out, and dying was about the only way that was going to happen.

I didn’t have some crazy notion that I needed to die a hero; I would’ve gladly died a coward. But with Conan Milton only inches away from me, all I really wanted was to
die
. I didn’t care what kind of label came with it.

“Freedom gives you the power of observation,” he answered. “It’s a beautiful thing. You get to hide away, watch people. You get to learn a lot about them just by studying their subtle movements. I’ve been watching you, Julie,” he said, and I could hear a smile in his thick voice. “I’ve been watching you since the moment my son led me to this cabin yesterday. Now, he didn’t know it, but as luck would have it, he brought me right to you.”

I closed my eyes and tried picturing Derek’s face.

“I never wanted to hurt you, Julie,” he said, and for a moment I almost believed him. His voice didn’t sound as full of mockery as it had before, and it almost sounded sincere. I had to remind myself that sincerity was easy to fabricate. Liars weren’t just good at lying, they were masters at it. But for a moment—a very brief moment—I allowed myself to consider that maybe there
was
some good in him; everyone had potential for redemption, right?

No sooner than I let the thought cross my mind, the sheer fact that I’d given him any kind of leniency made me sick to my stomach. He was the man who’d murdered my parents; he was the monster who’d taken everything away from me. Because of him, my life had been ripped apart piece by piece.

The wrenching pain only twisted itself deeper and deeper into my gut.

“Then why?” I asked, barely finding my breath between sobs. “If you never wanted to hurt me, then why are you doing this?”

“Ah, there she is,” he sounded as though it genuinely thrilled him to hear me talking back. “You see, Julie, I used to value family. I had this
thing
about blood and loyalty and, well, you went and screwed that up, sweetheart.”

I swallowed hard and held my breath.

“Hannah was…God, what a disappointment. She could’ve killed you six months ago and ended this train wreck once and for all.”

“You can’t blame this on her,” I stammered. “This is you.
This is all you
—”

“Now, Julie,” he pretended to be hurt by my accusation, “that’s a little harsh, don’t you think? This isn’t
all
my fault. You could’ve just minded your own business; you could’ve stayed away from my family—”

“
Your family came to me
,” I said, no longer crying. I didn’t know if the tears had completely drained dry, or if I’d just somehow gotten stronger, but I found myself steadily growing to my feet once again.

“Hannah,” he let out a slow sigh. “She had the right intentions; her heart was in the right place, she just didn’t have the best follow-through.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I tried to find my nerve. “She nearly killed—”

“Luke,” he savored the word on his lips, “he’s a
feisty
one, huh?”

“Don’t hurt him,” I cried, and I prayed that my plea wasn’t too late. If Luke was anywhere nearby and still breathing, I couldn’t see how he wouldn’t do everything within his power to get to me. “Don’t—you—dare—hurt—him—”

“Relax,” he said, and his voice was slimy and wicked. “He’s still alive for now. He won’t feel a thing. In fact, the actual
death
part will probably be the silver lining after all is said and done.”

“You can’t hurt him!”

“Oh, honey,” he said, and his nerves never once came through in his tone. He was solid, steady. He wasn’t the least bit concerned that his plan might fall through. “Every time you open your mouth you hurt him a little more.” he continued. “Don’t forget I’ve been watching you, Julie. And I know—as well as I know the walls of the West Bridge Pen—that your world revolves around Officer Lucas Reibeck.” He let out a low sigh and then laughed. “I know how much your cousin and his little gal mean to you. But better yet, sweetheart, I know just how much
you
mean to all of them.”

I stood against the shower wall, pressing myself as far away from the curtain as possible. I kept praying that the walls would collapse, or that by some freak of nature, I’d suddenly gain the strength I needed to break through them myself. There was no way out… not without facing Milton… and not without dying.

“Your friends are all tied up,” he said, and it was another dagger straight through my heart. “Matt and Kara have been struggling for hours, but Luke was the hard one. He rarely lets his guard down, you know? I guess I should thank you for creating that little window of opportunity for me. You got to him; you got in his head. That gave me the perfect opportunity to strike, Julie. So, they sit out there, and they wait—conscious, angry, and scared.”

“Please let them go—”

“No can do, sweetheart,” he said, and I heard him shuffling again. “They’re gonna hear every scream. They’re gonna hear you beg for your life, and they’re just gonna sit there…
helpless
.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Would understanding help you rest in peace, Julie?” he asked, and I could hear the mockery laced in his tone. He suddenly ripped the curtain back to face me, and the cold air rushed against my body. I shivered, but I somehow managed to keep myself from faltering back down to the floor. “My son—God help him—fell in love with you. He chose
you
over his own flesh and blood, and the one thing I
won’t
tolerate, is my son turning his back on
me
for
you
!”

“Derek is my
best friend
—”

“And that’s a problem, Julie,” he sneered. His golden hair was dirty and disheveled. A smudge of mud ran just below his right eye, and a bloodied gash stretched across his cheek. The time in prison hadn’t changed him much; he still bore his wicked grin, his cold eyes, and his devilish glare. “No son of mine is getting involved with a Little.” He stepped closer, his feet almost touching the bottom of the tub, and he leaned forward. I caught a glimpse of Derek’s soft features buried beneath his father’s rugged stare, and my stomach began to hollow once again. “You wanna know why I escaped, Julie?”

“No—”

“Derek has to die,” he said, and his smile grew wider. “I’ve had my share of opportunities to end him. Hell, I could’ve killed both of you today in the woods, and no one would’ve been the wiser. But I had to be a good dad,” he seemed to believe he was doing his son some kind of justice. “I had to let him go, let him stir. I had to let him feel the overwhelming guilt and anger that pulses through our veins. He needs to understand that he’s a Milton, and no amount of sucking up to your family is going to change that.” He reached back to pull a gun from the back of his waistband, but he only held it at his side. I watched as he gripped it, never once taking my eyes off of the weapon.

So this was how it was going to end? No escape? No hero? Death by a Milton… in the true Little fashion.

“It was never my plan to hurt you,” he said again, and his blue eyes softened. “But I’ll be damned if my son chooses you over his own family.” He swallowed hard, and I watched as his chest rose with each heavy breath he took. “Your friends can you hear you. If you have any last pleas…”

I started to cry again as Conan lifted his hand gun only inches from my face. I couldn’t find my voice, and I didn’t really care. Nothing I could say would suffice. I couldn’t beg for my life; I couldn’t scream for someone to save me. I couldn’t leave the people I loved, leave all of them behind, knowing that I was disappointed. I couldn’t let them live with the guilt. I couldn’t do it. So I kept my lips pressed together.

Conan kept the gun in the air, but his hand was no longer steady. It shook a little harder the longer he held it, and his eyes flickered with the tiniest hint—the absolute tiniest hint—of remorse. After a full sixty seconds passed and he hadn’t made a move, I slowly licked my lips and met his gaze.

“You’ve had that gun to my head for a long time, and you still haven’t pulled the trigger,” I wasn’t giving him permission; I only vocalized my observation. “What’s the problem? You can’t kill a little girl? Or maybe you’re too damn scared of what losing me will do to your son?” He scoffed at the absurdity, but tears welled in the bottom of his eyes. “You don’t want to kill Derek, and you don’t want to kill me. You just can’t stand the fact that he doesn’t need you anymore.”

The gun clicked and interrupted my speech. He’d let go, he’d done it. He’d given himself permission to kill me, but something hadn’t gone as planned. The gun simply clicked, and nothing but that tiny sound left the barrel.

Conan pulled his weapon back, readjusted the safety switch, and lifted it again.

“Let’s end this,” he said, but before I could mutter a tiny cry, the room filled with an explosion. For a second, I thought I saw the door burst open, but then the sound of gunfire pierced my ears, forcing me to bury my head in my arms. No pain followed the sound; I hadn’t been struck.

I looked up from my hands and realized that his bullet hadn’t hit me, that it’d somehow missed my body. As I looked back to meet his stare again, his eyes glazed over, and he stood nearly paralyzed in the middle of the room. He slowly dropped his head to look at his chest, but his weight began to pull him down.