There Is No Light in Darkness (27 page)

I take a few deep breaths and finish silently freaking out before I decide that I’m going to ask him why he’s looking at me. What the hell? I mean, it’s 9:30 in the morning. We’re on a busy street, so he can’t do anything stupid. Besides, I need to know what I’m dealing with here. I’ll see what I’ll do after I get my answer. I take a deep breath and step outside, idly wondering if I should download the machine gun app, just in case. The weather has been marvelous lately. It’s sunny and windy, not too cool and not too hot. Absolute perfection.

I make my way across the street and look around to see if I spot Bruce. I see him on the other side of the street and give him a nod, letting him know that I’m still okay. Bruce and I have an agreement. He can shadow me, but I don’t want anybody to know he’s watching me, so he keeps his distance. He’s only allowed to step in if he sees me in real danger. The mystery guy is still standing in the same spot. His straight lips curve into a slow smile as I approach, and it makes me want to slap it off him. It’s almost as if he were expecting me to go up to him—or worse, he wanted to corner me into doing it. I look across the street one more time and see Bruce making his way across the street as well. I stand in front of mystery guy and awkwardly cross my arms in front of my chest while holding Aimee’s cup of coffee in my right hand.

“Why are you following me?” I ask in a clipped tone.

His smile broadens and he lets out a single laugh. “You got guts, girl.” His voice has a different timbre to it. Maybe he’s from Boston?

“Girl?” I repeat, narrowing my eyes at him. He doesn’t give me a creepy vibe up close—well, not a completely creepy vibe. His eyes are hazel, they’re light up close, and they’re completely laughing at me.

“You are a girl, right?” he asks as he slowly studies the length of my body, with his hand under his chin.

“Stop looking at me like that. Stop following me. I don’t have time to waste,” I growl as I roll my eyes before turning around and walking away.

Bruce is standing on my side of the street now, but I wave him off dismissively.

“Hey, girl, what’s your name?” the guy calls out from behind, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

I don’t turn around. I just flip him off over my shoulder as I continue looking forward. I hear him laugh loudly behind me, and it makes me shuffle my feet faster. His cocky attitude reminds me of Cole’s, but his words don’t match his actions. It’s confusing and unnerving, and it pisses me off. A guy like him shouldn’t be wasting his time on a random girl in the middle of the street.

He obviously has money, judging from the way he’s dressed. Even though it’s not a suit, I know he paid a lot to look casually chic. He’s also wearing a Rolex, which he may or may not have stolen. If he’s an expert pocket-picker, he probably stole all of my belongings in the two minutes I was standing in front of him.

I stop walking and turn around to reply, because I really don’t need another shadow following me around. “There are a lot of fish in the sea,” I call out and stomp back around.

“That’s true,” he replies. His deep voice is so close to my ear that it stops me dead in my tracks. My heart is racing wildly, and I have to use both hands to steady the cup of coffee so that I won’t drop it. He totally snuck up on me—ninja style. Now I’m freaked. “But they’re only paying me to catch one.”

My mouth drops and I turn to face him, but I can only see his back as he walks the opposite direction. I run up to Bruce and tell him what the guy told me. He assures me that he’ll keep his eye on him. He took a photo with his phone while the guy was speaking to me. By the time I get to school, I feel like I’ve just finished running a marathon. I speed walk through campus and hand Aimee her now ice-cold coffee before running to the bathroom. I lock myself in a stall and take a deep breath as I lean against the door. What do I do now? What do you do when the people you love may be in danger? I call Mark and leave a message. I know I can’t tell Cole about what happened to me today. I want to, but I can’t. I don’t want him more involved than he has to be. His life was already shattered once because of these people, and he’s finally starting to pick up the pieces. I can’t let them harm him again. There’s only one thing I can do to protect him, and the thought of it brings my soul to its knees.

Cole gets home as I’m serving our shrimp stir-fry with white rice. He looks exhausted, and my mind is running a mile a minute. I’m thankful that I turned in my last assignments today, but now I keep thinking that maybe everything I did was for nothing. I haven’t gotten a call back from Mark—maybe I should have left specific information in my message.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Cole asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Cole, we need to talk,” I say shakily.

He puts down his utensils and props his elbows on the table and arches an eyebrow.

“I’ve been having second thoughts about all of this,” I say as I wave my hand around the apartment, before taking a deep breath to steady my voice. “I think maybe we need to take a break.” I close my eyes when I finish because I don’t want to see the pained look in his eyes that I expect to see.

I hear the legs of his chair screech against the hardwood floor, and I pop my eyes open. His jaw is tensed, and he looks livid as he corners the table, walking toward me. Not what I was expecting. He runs his hand through his long hair—the hair he grew out for me again—before he starts pacing in front of me.

He stops and looks at me. “Why? What brought this on?” he asks tensely.

“It’s a lot of things. I just think maybe we should take a break and make sure that we want to spend the rest of our lives together,” I say quietly. This isn’t going well.

He laughs once and waves both hands in the air. “We just bought this place together. What the fuck made you think of this now?” he growls.

“Cole, I just need time. Please. Give me time,” I say quietly and focus my eyes on the plate of food in front of me.

“What?” he screams, making me cringe. “Are you ... Oh my God, Blake. I swear to God if you even try to break up with me right now, I’m going to fucking lose it.” He’s shouting so loud that I can see the veins in his neck bulging.

“No, just a break,” I clarify weakly.

He sits back down in the chair next to mine and puts his face in his hands, taking deep breaths.

“Blake,” he says calmly. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you already did this to me once before. I didn’t want to break up with you, but I let you go anyway. I was young, and I was stupid. I’m not that kid anymore. You’re going to need a better reason this time. A real reason. And just to be clear, I don’t give a fuck what it is because I am not letting you go. Period,” he says watching me intently.

I let out a deep breath. “Someone’s watching me,” I say as tears form in my eyes. “And if they’re watching me, they’re watching everyone around me. I can’t let them take the people I love. Cole, they already killed my family. They were supposed to kill me. They got you once before. I can’t let them kill you,” I whisper brokenly.

He gets up and kneels down between my legs, before crushing my body to his. I feel his body shaking lightly under mine, and I realize he’s crying.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Don’t,” he says gruffly. “Just don’t. Don’t fucking say anything. Don’t ever try to leave me again. I can’t take it, Blake. I’ll die before I let something happen to you, but don’t fucking leave me. Please,” he pleads.

I start to cry with him, and I replay what happened to me as he listens quietly. He calls Greg and tells him to get someone to watch him and Becky and does the same for Aubry and Aimee. I let Cole do this. He needs to feel as if he’s in control, and I know this helps him. I let him take care of me—the way I always do—because I crave it as much as he needs to show me he can do it.

Chapter Twenty-one

Present

They say we’re all just one phone call away from our knees, and today, I learned the truth in that. I got a phone call at five in the morning that startled me enough to jump out of bed to answer it. Any phone call before six in the morning brings a dreadful feeling with it. I know something is wrong as I stare at the screen, but I’m not sure I even want to answer it and face reality. I look over, and Cole is still in an undisturbed slumber.

“Hello?” I manage to croak out.

“Cowboy ...” Aubry says in a hoarse voice, and I can hear him trying to control his sobs. “Maggie’s dead.”

“What? What do you mean?” I sputter.

“She’s dead,” he wails loudly. “She’s dead! They shot her!”

My knees give out from under me and I start to scream. I scream so loud—all of my pain and agony pouring out of my lungs—that I’m sure I woke up my entire floor. Cole shoots out of bed, runs over to me, and grabs the phone from my shaky hands. I double over and vomit all over our hardwood floor, and stay on my hands and knees shaking furiously. When I look back at Cole, he’s staring at me blankly with his mouth hanging open, as if he can’t believe what he just heard.

I give myself ten minutes to pour out my angst and cry as hard as I can. When I look back at the clock, it is 5:27. I get up, concentrate on breathing, and take the phone from Cole, who’s clutching it tightly, clearly still in shock from the news. I try to sooth Aubry and tell him that I will take care of everything and that we’ll be over there soon. After I clean up after myself, I call and wake up Becky to give her the horrific news.

I make a note in my head of flowers, caskets, and burial sites that I’ve seen and wondered about along the years. I start to cry again—silently—as I speak to the mortician. Maggie Parker was found shot dead from a bullet to the head. Maggie Parker—the most selfless woman I’ve ever met. The woman who took us in—no questions asked. The woman who taught us to cook, clean, do laundry, and treat others the way we want to be treated. The woman who rooted for us when nobody else cared to. The woman who drove us to parties and movies and picked us up late at night and never complained about it. The woman who kept us safe and out of trouble. Maggie Parker—the only mother three of us had ever known. Shot. Dead. Shot dead in her own home. Our home. The neighbors called the police when they heard the gunshot.

When Cole and I get to Aubry and Aimee’s apartment, Aimee greets us at the door and gives us each a long hug, expressing her sympathy. Cole runs in and holds Aubry in a tight hug as they both grieve the loss of the wonderful woman who raised them. She may not have legally adopted Cole, but she was his mother as well. I place my hands over my throat and cry as I watch them comfort each other. When I fall to my knees, Aimee kneels down beside me and holds me in her arms, shedding her own silent tears beside me as she strokes my hair. I sit up on my knees and sob into her shoulder, and let her hold me tighter, until Cole and Aubry walk over to us and the four of us hold each other for a while. Once we compose ourselves enough, we head out to make the somber drive to Maggie’s house.

When we get there, police tape is all over the place. The house is turned over, papers everywhere, furniture scattered. It looks like a botched robbery, but nothing was taken. The guys start fixing the furniture and Aimee leaves to get us food. I walk in the kitchen and am transported back twenty-two years, when I see the red stains on the floor. I grab on to the edge of the counter to keep me from falling, and close my eyes to cast my feelings aside. A strangled sob escapes me when I open my eyes back up and head to the sink to get a pair of gloves. Once I put them on, I get a bucket of water and a scrubber, and get down on my knees. The more I scrub, the less I can see the floor, but it’s not because the blood stains are coming off, it’s because my vision is so blurred, because my tears are making it impossible to see anything.

“Baby,” Cole says in a pained voice. “Let me help you.” He gets down on his knees beside me and tries to take the scrub away from me, but I yank my arms away from him.

“No!” I yell. “I have to do it. I have to clean it! This is my fault!” I wail as my body shakes violently.

He grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me roughly one time. “Look at me!” he shouts. I do and all I see is the sorrow in his bloodshot eyes, so I close my eyes. “Look at me, dammit!” My eyes remain closed as I shake my head stubbornly. “Look. At. Me. Blake,” he repeats again.

“I can’t,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

“Please. Please look at me,” he pleads brokenly as he lets go of my arms. I open my eyes and feel my face twist in agony as I start to cry again. I throw my arms around his neck and sob uncontrollably as I squeeze him.

“I’m so sorry,” I say in between sobs. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He wraps his arms around me tightly. “Baby, it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. Please don’t blame yourself. I know your heart is as broken as ours. She was a mother to you too.”

“Oh God,” I say as my chest heaves. “Why? Why? Why her? WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?” Our bodies tremble as we hold each other, sitting over our loved one’s spilled blood, tasting the smell of iron and Clorox that now lingers around the kitchen.

He pushes away and wipes his face with the back of his long sleeved shirt before wiping mine with his thumbs and kissing my forehead.

“We’re going to be okay, baby. Leave this, let’s call a cleaning company to do this,” he says softly.