Running Away With You (Running #3) (41 page)

When it’s time to order, I ask for an assortment of pastries, including the turnover.  I also order a chai, a latte, and a macchiato.  I’m thinking about swinging over to Auggie’s house with breakfast and coffee in hand.  He might not be alone, so I take enough for three.

While I wait to collect my beverages, the bell on the door chimes as another customer enters, bringing in a rush of cold air.  I shudder and my mind goes right to Evan.  Whenever he’s near, I have the same physical reaction.  Sometimes it’s like a jolt of electricity that goes running through me.  Other times it’s more like a dull throb that begins deep within and radiates all the way to my fingertips.

My hands are full as I push my way through the door, ass first.  With my hands overflowing with hot beverages and pastries, I wonder how I’m going to open my car door without dropping anything.  The moment I swing around and face my car, that question is answered.  Standing there, leaning on my car with his arms crossed, is Evan, all bundled up and smiling at me.

I try to act indifferent and detached, but it’s impossible for me to hide the elation I feel when I see him.  He grins widely when he sees me, showing off his pearly white teeth and ridiculously adorable dimples.  Always the gentleman, he takes the tray of drinks from me with one hand and opens my car door with the other.  “That’s a lot of coffee for one person, Juliette.  Have you replaced me already?” he asks.

“Oh my God, Evan!  How could you say such a thing?  I would never ... ” I can’t finish that sentence.  I’ve done things I never thought I would, and Evan knows it. 

Evan’s smile fades too.  “I know,” he says dryly.  “It’s not a very funny joke.” 

He helps me put my pastries and coffee in the car, careful not to get too close.  Instead of getting into the car too, I stand on the sidewalk and face him, waiting for him to say something to give me an indication of what he’s thinking.  “You’re not supposed to be here,” he says.

“I don’t understand,” I tell him, not quite sure how to interpret that remark.

“I’m trying to remember what it’s like to live alone and fend for myself.  But everywhere I look, you’re there.  It seems I can’t even get a cup of coffee without you.”

I reach out to touch him, and he backs away from me.  “Don’t,” he warns.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean ... I’m just not sure how I’m supposed to ... ”

“Yeah, me too.”  We stand there for a moment, studying each other.  My heart aches for him, and from the look on his face, I’d say the feeling is mutual.  “Listen, are you going to be home later?” he asks.

I nod.  “I’m baking for the party tonight.”

“I’m waiting to hear back from Gavin Wolff about the police investigation.  As soon as I do, can I come over?” 

“Evan, it’s your home.  Please don’t ask me that.  You make it sound like you don’t live there anymore.”

“I don’t,” he says as he walks away. 

As soon as he’s inside the coffee shop, I get into my car and drive away, heading straight for Auggie’s house.  I’m twisted into knots.  Evan acts like he still loves me, but his words say otherwise.  I need someone to talk to before I lose my mind.

As luck would have it, Auggie’s not home.  I’d bet my bottom dollar he spent the night at Lucas’ house.  I run through a list of the people I could visit, and I completely strike out.  I don’t want to disturb Emmy at this hour.  She’s been having bouts of morning sickness and the acrid scent of bitter coffee might set her off.  Reese is a late sleeper, and it’s entirely too early to bother her. 

With no options left, I return home to an empty house and start baking.  For tonight, I’ve decided to make two cheesecakes, amaretto cake pops, and homemade churros with chocolate dipping sauce. 

While I’m baking, it’s easy to pretend everything is normal.  I tell myself that Evan is at practice and he’ll call when he’s on his way home.  Just knowing he plans on coming home at some point today gives me hope.

Hours go by without a word from Evan.  The cheesecakes are almost done, so I head into the garage to find my stash of pastry boxes.  As I’m rummaging through some of my storage containers, I stumble upon the one from my college dorm.  Not realizing what it is, I peel off the lid and peer inside.  Sitting atop my odds and ends is my Magic Eight Ball. 

Considering everything that’s happened over the last few weeks, I can’t resist asking my old friend a few questions.  So I give the ball a shake and let fate tell me what it knows.

“Did someone hurt David?” 
Yes

“Will he survive?” 
Very doubtful

“Am I a suspect?” 
You may rely on it

“Did Evan have anything to do with it?” 
Ask again later

“Is Evan Kai’s father?” 
Reply hazy, try again

“Will Evan ever forgive me?” 
Outlook good

“Is Evan going to make it to the Super Bowl this year?” 
My reply is no

Now, I know the Magic Eight Ball is a children’s toy, but the truth is, it’s rarely wrong.  At least that’s been my past experience.  Just by chance and simple luck, I know that at least half of the answers are most likely spot on.  The only problem is figuring out which half.

I put away the toy, grab the pastry boxes, and go back to preparing for tonight’s party.

My cheesecake is nearly perfect.  It has a rich brownie base for a crust, chocolate rosettes frame the border, and carefully piped chocolate swirls adorn the top.  If it tastes half as good as it looks, it will be a big hit tonight.  Just as I close the lid on the pastry box, my phone pings with a message.

Evan:  u home?  On my way over

Jette:  yes, baking for 2nite

Evan must have been close to home when he sent that text, because I barely have time to finish cleaning up before he’s walking through the door carrying a small duffel bag.  My heart leaps for joy, hoping he’s home for good.

“Would it be okay if I did a load of laundry while I’m here?”  Evan is asking me for permission to use his own washing machine.

“Evan, please stop acting like this isn’t your home.  I know you’re trying to come to terms with what happened, but living in a hotel isn’t the solution.”

“Dr. Falkowski thinks it’s for the best, at least for now.  I just need time.”  He walks past me into the laundry room without any further explanation.  Evan is speaking to a therapist – my therapist!

When he comes back out, he has more to say on the subject.  “By the way, the good doctor thinks it’s a good idea for you to contact him too.  He’s very concerned about you.”

“Why does he think we should be separated?  I don’t see how we can work things out if we’re not together.”

“Because I can’t think clearly when you’re near me.  Despite everything that’s happened, I love you, and my instinct is to protect you and comfort you, especially now I know how you’ve been victimized by that prick.  Dr. Falkowski helped me see what happened more clearly.  But every time I look at you, I have images of him in your bed that I can’t erase.  Knowing that it didn’t have to happen and that you invited him into your bed makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it.” 

It hurts to hear those words, but at least I understand a little better why his behavior toward me swings from one extreme to the other.  “If it’s so hard to be around me, then why are you here?  Couldn’t you just tell me what the attorney said over the phone?”

“Not really.  I think we should sit down and talk.”  Evan grabs a water bottle from the refrigerator and takes a seat at the kitchen table. 

I turn off the stove and join him.  “What did Gavin have to say?”

“Here’s what we know.  David is missing.  It was an obvious forced entry.  They found blood.  Lots of it, actually.  It doesn’t look good, Juliette.”

“And they have his phone, so that means they have my text messages too.  Right?”

“Yours and mine,” he confirms.

“Yours?  Why were you texting with David?” I ask.  It seems there’s more to this puzzle than I realized.

“I didn’t know it at the time, but David is the one who sent me the text about your hotel rendezvous.”  Evan is sitting at the table and I can feel his leg twitching as he taps his toes a mile a minute.  “There’s more,” he admits.

“More?  Evan, you’re scaring me,” I tell him, barely holding it together.

“You should be scared.  And you should not, under any circumstances, speak to the police without Gavin present.  They think one of us might have killed David, Juliette.  They’re going to execute a search warrant of the house tomorrow.  Lucky for us, today’s a holiday and they couldn’t find a judge.”

My ears are ringing and I have a knot in the pit of my stomach.  “Search warrant?  What are they looking for?”

“Evidence of extortion.  If you still have anything David sent you, you need to get rid of it all tonight, starting with the picture you showed me last night.  Are there others?”

“There are,” I tell him, “but not here.  Auggie has one and I have one in my office at work.”  I get up from my seat and walk around in circles.  I don’t know what to do or how I should react.  “Isn’t tampering with evidence a crime, Evan?  Suppose we get caught?”

“Juliette, you don’t seem to understand, so let me make this perfectly clear.  David is missing.  If they find him dead, someone is going to be charged with his murder.”

“But why do they think it was us?  They know we talked to him, but that doesn’t give us a motive to want him dead.”

“You’re right.  But the pictures of you he had scattered around his hotel room do.  You need to think very hard.  Both our lives are on the line right now.  Aside from that picture you showed me, is there anything else in this house tying us to David?”

Before I answer, I search my mind for anything I might have forgotten.  There’s nothing else, I’m sure of it.  Together, Evan and I burn the envelopes and the photographs David sent us, and then scatter the ashes in the ocean.  Evan leaves to destroy the photograph at the restaurant and I do the same with the picture at Auggie’s. 

Once I’m home, I have a few hours to waste until I’m expected at Derek’s.  My overactive imagination is running rampant right now.  I know I had absolutely nothing to do with David’s disappearance, but can I say the same about Evan?

I’ve seen him lose control before, nearly sending Ryker to the hospital in a fit of rage.  The memory is crystal-clear and seared into my mind.  But this is different.  This is not the effect of someone losing control and attacking another person in anger.  This was done with clarity and forethought.  How far would Evan go to protect me?  I must admit, I can’t answer that question with confidence.

I
can’t stand being alone in this house any longer than absolutely necessary, so I pack my treats and walk next door to Derek’s.  Shea answers the door with a wide smile and invites me in, calling to Derek, “Honey, Jette’s here.  Come say hello.”  Shea hears a loud
thunk
and rushes off to investigate the source.  I hear the unmistakable giggles of a small child.  Kai must be here, somewhere.

Derek comes out with a dishtowel casually tossed over his shoulder, drying his wet hands as he comes to greet me.  “Hey, kiddo.  You’re a little early.  I’m just finishing up in the kitchen.”  I glance around, and even though he’s only been here a few days, the house truly feels like a home.  I can’t be sure if it’s the handsome man with bare feet standing before me or the beautiful young woman chasing a toddler around the house, but I get a sense of family here.

I offer to help Derek in the kitchen, but he insists on a house tour first.  I place my offerings on the dining room table and follow Derek around the house.

Most of the interior walls have been torn down during a recent remodeling, giving the home a spacious open floor plan.  On the first floor, he has a dining room, kitchen, living room, spare room, and a full bath.  A small breezeway connects the main living space with the two-car garage.  The three bedrooms upstairs have walk-in closets and private baths.  Even though the furnishings came with the house, it’s clear Derek feels at home.  I’m sure that, with time, he will add his own personal touches, and maybe even Shea’s.

Derek ends the tour in the kitchen, where we finish plating all sorts of nosh, everything from chips and dip to homemade spring rolls and shrimp wrapped in bacon.  “Derek, this looks amazing.  Where did all this come from?  Don’t tell me you made it all yourself.”

“Once again, you doubt my mad skills.  I’ll have you know that I personally wrapped each piece of shrimp in the bacon and turned on the oven without any help whatsoever.”  He picks up a skewer, slides off a shrimp, and holds it up for me to taste.  “Open up and tell me again how talented I am.”

With a mouthful of shrimp and bacon, I croon his praises. “Oh, Derek, this is soooo good.”  And I mean every word of it too.  But then again, anything wrapped in bacon is sure to be delicious.  “Did you make the spring rolls too?” I ask, extremely doubtful.

“Nah, Reese made them.  She dropped them off this morning with directions on how I’m supposed to cook them.  Try it with the peanut sauce and tell me what you think.”