The Dead of Winter (Seasons of Jefferson: Book 2) (12 page)

THE TRIP TO THE BANK
went well. There was no sign of activity in the report. Jenna’s dad will be happy to hear that she changed and secured her account. I’m sure she’s relieved. I know I am. We crunch through freshly fallen powder as we make our way to the car. The latest snowstorm must’ve begun while we were inside. I guess we were in the bank longer than I thought because there looks to be a good two inches on the road.

Progress is slow, as Jenna is extra cautious driving her VW in these conditions. We painstakingly crawl from block to block. She’s turned the music off. I know the soundlessness helps her concentrate, but it’s grating on my nerves. I study her face in the rearview mirror, trying to take my mind off of the never-ending drive of doom. Her lips twist from side to side while her eyes squint and release. I take a deep breath and release it with an audible sigh.

“I can see the look on your face. You’re scheming again. We’re not playing with this one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. No more games. We’re going to pull up to the house. I’m going to march down her front walk, knock on that door, and confront my demons. No more sneaking around. I already learned my lesson at the hospital. It’s time to face the music like a man.”

“You’re pretty dense. You know that, right?” Jenna shakes her head and takes a deep breath. “Well, I’m not going to fight you on this. But you should probably know you’re not getting in. Maybe you’ll finally believe me when one of the three bears slams the door in your face.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

As we approach Peyton’s, I spot the tail end of the police SUV rounding the corner. I wonder how Peyton handled reliving the nightmare on the Forks. I feel horrible for her having to do that alone. I’m glad I’m here in case she needs me. Finally, I have a chance to help pick up the pieces.
Hang on, babe. I’ll be right there.

I grip the handle above my door, practically crushing the plastic beneath me. Being just moments away from facing the Carters has my stomach in knots, but it’s something I have to do.
I’ve got to own up to what I did. I need to take responsibility for the wreck. I should’ve pulled my foot from the gas, not slammed on the brake. It’s my fault we slid out of control.
The guilt is eating me alive.
It’s all I’ve thought about for days. Inside I’m a raging mess. My heart is racing.
I need to get in there and get this over with. I need to be there for her. I hope they’ll let me see her.

Jenna pulls up next to the sidewalk. “Want me to go with, or are you doing this on your own?”

I take a deep breath in through my nose, holding it in my cheeks for a few seconds.

Jenna raises her eyebrows with a half grin. “You plan on going in there looking like a chipmunk?” she giggles. “Breathe.”

I look to Jenna, and begin directing the air slowly toward her. Watching her bangs blow from her forehead does nothing to relieve my stress. I’d hoped completely deflating my lungs into her face would calm my nerves and bring a little comic relief. Not a chance. I’m weak and shaky as I open the door and begin to step out onto the sidewalk.

“Wait! You may want a piece of this!” Jenna pinches her nose and holds out her extra-large jug of fresh mint gum.

I bend down, looking back into the car door. “Not funny.” I take a piece anyway, just in case. “Wait for me here, k. I’m not sure if they’ll answer.” An image of Peyton’s dad tossing me to the ground flashes through my mind. “I’m not sure her parents will let me through the front door.”

“Well, not with that garlic breath anyway.”

I shake my head and turn toward the walkway. I begin my long journey, listening to Jenna’s snarky voice drift down the sidewalk. “Hey, knock ‘em dead, huh?”

I continue walking toward the door, pulling my hand behind my back, flipping her the bird. Sucking as much minty juice from the gum as I can extract, I hear her laugh blurring into the background.

I have to admit, Jenna is a great distraction. You never know what’s going to come out of her mouth.
Garlic breath. That little turd.
Now that I’m close to the door, I feel every vibration of my shaky quads. I darn near trip trying to lift my leg onto the first step. Grabbing onto the handrail with my good arm, I pull myself up the five wooden steps to the front porch. I jump as the wood creaks beneath my feet. I convince myself to shuffle across the deck to the door.
Left. Right. Left. Right.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, as I lift my hand to knock on the big wooden door.

I duck out of the way of the fancy window, hiding off to the side.
Maybe they’ll actually answer if they don’t know it’s me.
I wait impatiently, listening to the roar of my heartbeat growing louder.
I should’ve brought a girl scout with me.
I scan the neighborhood trying to find someone selling cookies to use as a decoy. No luck.
Come on, open the door already.
I look back to the car and see Jenna lifting her hands, palms raised, mouthing something.

I squint at her, trying to make out the movement of her lips, shaking my head in confusion. I can’t tell what she’s saying. She drops her hands and pulls out her phone. I feel a buzz in my pocket and pull out my cell to find a message.

Jenna: Well????

Me: Not answering.

Jenna: I saw her mom walk past the window. Told you so! :P

Me: Shut up! Not giving up this easy. I’m knocking again. >:)~

I shove my phone back in my pocket. My heart jumps when I lift my hand to knock again and miss the door as it opens in front of me. I raise my eyes to meet Mrs. Carter’s fatigued face. “Sorry, Caden. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“Hey, Mrs. Carter. Is Peyton able to see me yet?”

She pauses momentarily, cocking her head to the side. “You know she’s already had a long day. Those officers have been here talking to her for quite a while. I’m not sure she’s up for any more visitors. She’s pretty exhausted.”

More excuses.
“Please, Mrs. Carter. That’s exactly why I need to see her. I want to help. I figure I kinda know what she’s going through. A little anyway. I know I haven’t been through half of what she has, but maybe I can make her feel better.”

She bites her lip and twists her face into a painful grimace. It’s almost as though she feels sorry for
me
. Contemplation overpowers her face for a brief moment, and she finally speaks, “I’ll see what I can do. No promises. You might want to prepare yourself. Peyton’s not the same person.”

“None of us are, Mrs. Carter.”

“Well, you’ve got a point. I didn’t mean to sound so insensitive. Come on inside where it’s warmer. I’ll see if I can get her to come out.”

I step through the doorway and wait at the entry, watching Mrs. Carter head down the hall toward Peyton’s room. She rests against the wall as her head disappears through the doorway. I can’t hear what she’s saying, so I slyly inch my way further into the living room. The voices are still muffled, but their sudden bursts of volume tell me that there is some tension. I lean in a bit closer.

“Peyton, you’ve got to give this a chance.”

More muffled outbursts.

“He went through it too. Just let him talk to you.”

I hear a crash.

“Peyton, you’ve got to stop doing that! I’m not sending him away again!”

Silence.

“You know, he’s trying to work through this too. Maybe he needs your help as much as you need his. Can you try?”

Her voice is raised now, to the point I can hear the tail end of Peyton’s sentence. “…get hurt!”

“He’s hurting in more ways than one, young lady. Maybe you should see him so you know what
he’s
been through. It might help you recover if you hear his side of the story.”

Crash.

“Don’t hurt yourself, young lady. Your stitches! Stop … those trophies can’t be replaced!” Mrs. Carter disappears through the door.

Crash.

“You know what? I’m sending him in. If you won’t snap out of it for me, maybe you will for him.”

Holy shit. What am I walking into? What’s wrong with her?

I inch back toward the front door, panicked that I might not be able to defend myself if she chucks something at my head. I can’t hear what she’s yelling at Mrs. Carter, but the sound of metal crashing into her walls is scaring the hell out of me.

What the hell is happening in there?
Realization hits hard.
She blames me. Hell, I can’t even forgive myself. What right do I have to ask her to forgive me?
I shouldn’t have come. I really shouldn’t have come.
I stumble backward, reaching toward the handle.
I’ve got to get out of here.

“Stop, Caden. You can’t go!” The desperation in Mrs. Carter’s voice makes me loosen my grip on the handle.

“Mrs. Carter,” I shake my head back and forth, “I don’t … I … I don’t think she wants to see me right now.” I raise my sling, reminding her that I have no defense against flying trophies. “It might not be such a good idea. I shouldn’t have come. I should’ve called first.” I’m practically hyperventilating from the shock of Peyton’s reaction to my presence.

“Calm down, son,” her voice shakes. I watch the tears well up in her eyes as she begins to speak. “She might not realize it right now, but she needs you. Her father and I haven’t been able to get through to her. The night she woke up in that hospital, she was like a different girl. She’s angry and aggressive. She won’t let anyone touch her. I feel like I sent my sweet, little angel down that river, and she came back without a soul. It’s not the same girl in there, Caden. I need your help. You might be able to make a breakthrough. Just be careful.”

Mrs. Carter begins to cry, inconsolably. “She’s lashing out and throwing things. She wakes up in the middle of the night screaming. What you just heard, the crashing trophies … that fit pales in comparison to the last couple nights we’ve had her home. She’s gone crazy.”

I watch Mrs. Carter’s face drop. Her voice softens to a whisper as she shakes her head. “Maybe you can bring her back. Please, will you try?” She moves toward me, grabbing my hand. She looks into my eyes, pleading, “Please, Caden. We want our daughter back, too. Try. For me.”

I hear another crash. My ears buzz with the surge of adrenaline. I’m going in there to face a different girl. One who I don’t know; don’t understand.
I destroyed my Peyton. Ruined her, just like I was afraid of. Peyton has to be hiding somewhere in the fiery girl behind that wall.
I have to try to get her back. If not for me, for her parents. I owe them that much.

I’M NOT SURE IF I
can do this, but I need to act strong for the broken woman in front of me. I don’t want to be the one who took this mother’s child from her.
I have to fix her.
I put on a brave face and look Mrs. Carter in the eyes. “I’ll give it my best shot.”

I take a deep breath as I step past Mrs. Carter and make my way through Peyton’s doorway. I scan the room looking for my girl and come up empty. Instead of finding her, I observe what looks like a demolition site. The curtains are half hanging from the window. There are crumpled papers lying all over the ground. It looks like a photo album has been ripped to shreds.
Could Peyton have done all this? Where is she?
I continue to walk deeper into the room, looking behind the bed, hoping I might find her there.

“Peyton?” I whisper softly.

There’s no answer.

“Peyton? Are you in here?” My nerves are getting the best of me, and I find it difficult to disguise my anxiety. The fear of not knowing what I’m about to face has my voice playing hide and seek inside my throat. I can’t let her know how scared I am. I need to be strong for her. I fill my lungs with air and raise my volume slightly, working to keep the trembling at bay.

“Peyton, I know you’re in here. Please talk to me. I want to help you.”

“Go away.” A tiny peep comes from the back corner of her room.

The floor creaks as I make my way toward the sound.

“I told my mom not to let you in. Go away,” the aggravated voice pierces the tense room. A blue streak flies out of the bathroom.