The Arrangement Anthology (85 page)

That moment destroyed me and it was my fault.
 

When I blink, I feel Avery beneath my body, but the ghosts won’t release me. I choke and realize the room is silent—like
before. Images from that night long ago continue to bombard me, flashing in and out of my mind, clouding the present with the past. I can’t stop it.
 

“Avery?” I ask her, shaking her slightly because she’s so still. “Are you all right?” My voice is far from steady, and as I pull back to look at her, I see that she’s lying in a pool of scarlet. A shiver takes hold of my soul and won’t release me. Incoherently, I stutter something else, but she doesn’t speak.
 

My mind fractures. I feel it coming apart as if it were a puzzle lifted from a table. One by one, rationality falls away. I want to go after whoever did this to us, but I can’t leave Avery. I call her name over and over again, before lifting her still body from the glass.
 

Pieces of the window glitter like diamonds on the floor. I walk her over to the far side of the house, out of sight of the window, and lay her on the couch. Her dark lashes flutter and she looks up at me with those eyes. “Sean?” her voice is
scratchy, like she’s going to cry. Her arm has a long gash and is bleeding. She reaches for it and pulls her hand away.
 

Avery examines her bright red fingers and then looks up at me. Ignoring her own injury, she asks, “Are you hurt?” I can’t speak. There’s no way to answer that question and confess what this did to me. I don’t want to lie, so I say nothing.
 

Working quickly, I grab my shirt and bandage her arm. I don’t see any glass lodged under the skin, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. Images of Amanda flicker behind my eyes and mix with the present until I don’t know which reality is genuine.
 

I caused this.
The thought races through my mind, replaying over and over again.
 

Breathe, Sean. Hold it together.
I say these things inside my head, but can’t manage to find words for Avery. She lets me wrap up her wound and look her over quickly. When I decide she isn’t going to
hemorrhage, everything snaps back to the present and my attention shifts to the fucker who did this.  
 

“Stay.” It’s the only word I can manage. Turning quickly, I race across the room and find the spot in the corner, where the stairs would have been. I pull the molding free and yank out the gun that brought me so much misery, and load it. I grab my jacket and pull it on before walking over to her.
 

Avery watches in silence with her beautiful face full of fear. “Don’t do it. Don’t go.” She clutches at my collar which makes ribbons of scarlet flow down her arm from beneath the makeshift bandage.
 

I hate the fear in her voice, but I can’t let this fucker walk away. I say things, I don’t even know what, but I kiss her cheek, shove the gun into her hands, and a horrible premonition claws at my heart. That gun took my wife and daughter from me. That gun destroyed me. Handing it to her feels wrong, but she needs it.  
 

Wiping the sweat from my brow, I manage to keep my voice devoid of emotion. “Stay out of sight and if someone comes in, shoot them.”
 

~AVERY~
 

I’m trembling as Sean shoves the cold metal into my hand. When I look down, I see an old gun and instantly know what I’m holding—it’s the weapon that took Amanda Ferro’s life. My throat tightens, making his name come out like a squawk, “Sean, wait!”
 

But he doesn’t stop. Unarmed, Sean strides across the room, zips his coat, and jumps out the shattered window to the ground far below. Horrified, I stand up and watch him disappear into the darkness. Fear courses through me and I think about going after him, but I’ve lost too much blood. The gash in my arm is dripping down my side and if I don’t stay still, I’ll
pass out. As it is, the wound is throbbing, but the gun in my hand distracts me more.
 

I can’t imagine what’s going through Sean’s mind. When those blue eyes locks with mine, something inside me cowers. They’re cold, detached, and completely ruthless. Whoever did this is dead. I saw it on Sean’s face, and I wonder. The act of handing me this gun had to suck him into his past in a very real way. Add in the blood and someone trying to shoot me…
 

As I think, I manage to pull on a pair of Sean’s sweats, and that’s when reality hits me. This wasn’t an accident. Someone tried to kill me. I’d be dead right now if Sean hadn’t pulled me to the floor. My knees give out and I sit down hard, clutching the gun against my chest like it’s a teddy bear. Tears fill my eyes as terror overflows from my heart and trickles down my cheeks. I glance at the gun and can’t stand to hold it. Leaning over, I place it on the floor and push it away with my foot, before sinking back into the couch. I grab a remote control and shut off all the lights.
The darkness swallows me whole, and the only sounds I can hear are my pounding heart and the wind rustling the branches outside.
 

The room grows colder from the open window. I remain where I am, lost in shadows, on the couch, gripping my arm and holding it up to slow the bleeding. I’m not thinking about the wound or if I need stitches—I’m wondering about Sean.
 

As far as I could tell, he jumped out the window, defenseless. Whoever took the shot is long gone, at least I hope he is. I pull my knees into my chest, wishing I could vanish. I can’t calm down and it feels like my chest is going to explode. It’s as if I’ve been sitting here forever, and every little sound makes me jump as I watch through the window for signs of Sean.
 

That’s when I hear it. The sound is barely there, but it makes my eyes grow wide and my pulse quicken. My head snaps toward the noise. I frantically look for Sean through the shattered window, but
he’s not there. I can’t see anyone, but I hear footfalls inching closer, crunching their way through the dried grass and fallen leaves. The sound is softer than my breaths but it sounds like drums pounding in my ears.
 

The paces are too slow, too careful. My eyes dart through the night, seeking any sign of who’s approaching. The person passes the window, out of sight, and is approaching the front door.
 

Sean’s words ring in my ears over and over again,
If anyone comes in shoot them
.
 

I can’t shoot someone. Killing a person, ending their life, even if they tried to kill me first—I can’t do it. I glance at the gun on the floor and know it should be in my hand, but I can’t touch it. That thing destroyed Sean’s life. It feels like a bad omen to even look at it.
 

There’s a scraping sound at the front door, a metal key sliding into the lock. The knob twists, and just before the door opens, I jump up and frantically look for a
place to hide. There isn’t anywhere obvious, so I act on instinct and dart across to the kitchen, tug open one of those huge cabinet doors, and duck inside. Crouching down as low as possible, I curl into a ball. My hands are around my ankles and I’m shivering all over.
 

A small slit is in front of me where the cabinet doors meet. It’s not enough to see anything, but I know the person isn’t Sean. If it was, he would have flipped on the lights and called out to me. This person is quiet, slowly walking across the floor. My heart slaps into my ribs so hard that I think they’re going to crack. Biting my lips, I remain crouched, peering into the opening.
 

The man passes me, craning his neck from side to side, searching. Does he know his shot missed? Is he here to finish the job?
 

Dark boots pass the couch and then the bed. He stands to the side of the window and looks down at the blood on the floor. The way the moonlight catches the glass looks beautiful in a haunting way.
Some of the shards glisten red, nearly black.
 

A scream is building inside of me and it’s everything I can do to not release it. Where is Sean? My jaw is locked, biting hard to keep quiet.  
 

When the man turns, I see a weapon in his hand—a rifle. He raises it and turns slowly, as if he heard my thoughts. He inches toward the bed and aims at the center of the mattress. He holds the gun there for half a beat and fires.
 

The sound does exactly what he wants—the blaring noise makes me jump and let out a small shriek. It slipped between my lips before I could stop it. The man turns in my direction. He knows where I am. I swear that he can see my eyes, because our gazes lock as he walks toward my hiding place.
 

My heart thumps harder as I begin to shake uncontrollably. I’m going to die. He’s coming to kill me and I’m hiding in here like a coward. After everything I lived
through, after everything I fought for, to be here now and have Sean’s ring on my finger, after losing my parents, and becoming a fucking prostitute—this is how I die—hiding in a cabinet.
 

My fear rapidly shifts to anger. It isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair. As soon as something good happens to me, it’s chased by death. Fuck that. I reach around to see what’s near me and grab a bag. I rip it open, knowing that the crazy gunman already knows my location, and then reach blindly on the shelf with my other hand for something—anything.
 

Just as my hand lands on something useful, the man speaks, “Got ya.”
 

He pulls the door open and I jump out at him like a deranged jack-in-the-box jerking the open sack of flour as I go. The white powder flies, temporarily blinding him. The man steps back, giving me enough time. I don’t think about the contraption in my hand or what I’m going to do with it. I take my chance, my only chance. The tip of the man’s gun drops
enough that I have an opening and I take it. My arm swings down hard and fast, jabbing the meat thermometer into his face. I feel it sink into his eye.
 

Screaming, the man swipes at me with his weapon, making it clothesline me across my chest. The force sends me sailing backwards and I land on the floor. The man is shouting, clutching at his eye, and hurrying toward me. He raises his gun, ready to shoot. “You motherfucking—”  
 

He doesn’t finish his sentence. A loud crack fills my ears as I watch him fall to the floor with a bullet in his head. I’m standing before him with Amanda’s gun grasped firmly between my hands, my elbows locked, and the gun still pointing to the place where he stood.
 

I don’t remember picking it up. I don’t remember anything.
 

Tremors rake through me, but I can’t move from that spot. Rapid footfalls make me whirl around to the open front door.
Sean is standing there, breathless. I can’t move. I can’t lower the gun.
 

Sean holds up his hands, “It’s just me. Are you all right?” His voice is so wrong, so frightened. A swipe of dark red runs along his temple and drips onto his cheek. Sean looks past me at the dead man on the floor, before his wide blue gaze returns to my face.
 

Tears fill my eyes but don’t fall. It feels like something is crushing me and I can’t breathe. Gasping, I try to make sense of what happened, of what I’ve done. My grip on the weapon is so tight that I’m shaking, which makes it difficult to hold. Slick palms don’t help either and as I squeeze the hilt hard, it slips from my hands and falls to the floor. My jaw drops and I don’t know if I’m trying to gulp air or going to vomit. My knees give out as soon as the gun slips from my fingers and I crash onto the floor. The room tips sideways as it spins. Sean calls my name, but he sounds as if he’s a million miles
away. The edges of my vision flicker before everything fades to black.
 

I wake to the sound of Sean’s voice. It’s low and urgent. “I don’t give a fuck where he is. I’m flying into MacArthur Airport and I need him there. It’s not optional.” Sean’s back is to me and he’s breathing hard. I’m lying on the bed, covered in a mound of blankets. It’s still night, so it surprises me when I glance toward the opening where the window had been and see a few men hoisting a new pane of glass into place.
 

“You’re up.” Sean is standing over the bed and looks down at me with such sorrow in his eyes that I can’t hold his gaze.
 

I glance at the crew and back at Sean. “Yeah, I’m up.” For a second, I tense and glance around, looking for the body, but it’s gone.
 

Sean sits next to me and places a hand on my shoulder. The gentle touch makes
me jump. “It’s all right. Everything is all right. I made arrangements to get your arm looked at, but we need to get out of here.”
 

I want to ask where the body went and a thousand other questions that are racing through my mind, but I just nod. Sean speaks to the crew again, and they assure him that the house will be restored to its original condition and that no one will know anything ever happened.
 

The crew leader is wearing dark jeans, a jacket, and a baseball cap. He’s an older guy. He grins and says, “There won’t be a single shard of glass anywhere when we’re done.”
 

Sean doesn’t smile. He simply nods and looks the man in the eye. “Silence is worth its weight in gold. There are bonuses for those who finish early and keep things to themselves.”
 

The guy smiles broadly. “Those are excellent terms, Mr. Ferro. I’m happy to do anything you need. Have a safe flight.”
The conversation ends and the crew works faster.
 

Sean takes my hand and we head toward the field. He’s silent until we’re in the hangar and boarding the plane. “Where’s the pilot?” I glance around for him, but he’s not here, and since Sean is climbing into the cockpit, I doubt he’s coming.