“Is everything else ok?”
“Yeah. Just some shit we’ve been dealing with. How are you? You good?” He glances in my direction. The light of the dash casts off his gorgeous face and I have to remind myself that the devil was once an angel. His beautiful exterior no longer masks his black heart. I see right through it.
“We really need to finish our conversation from earlier.”
“Yeah. About that. You really think that leaving Redwood is the best plan?”
“I don’t think. I know. I have to leave. Staying is not an option.” He’ll never understand. He’ll also never know why I need to leave. No one can ever know. I have to get as far away from here as possible. Rick will never allow me to keep my baby, and I’ll never allow him to try and stop me.
“Come back to Talon’s for the night. Sleep on it and we can talk more tomorrow.”
I chuckle unintentionally. “Me? Stay at Talon Porter’s? Not a chance.”
“You got a problem with Talon?”
I absolutely have a problem with Talon. As a matter of fact, I have a problem with all four of these guys. Naturally, I hate them all. After the humiliation I went through, just so they could get a good laugh. Anyone would hate them for what they did. But I don’t say it. “No, no problem. I just don’t feel comfortable staying there. Just take me home and we can both sleep on it.”
“You can’t go home. Are you forgetting that your stepdad attacked you?”
“He didn’t attack me. He was just mad. He gets like that sometimes. I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with him for years.” I don’t mention that I keep a knife under my pillow. Or that I had to use it once.
“Are you sure? It doesn’t seem safe. What if next time he hurts the baby, or you?”
“He won’t hurt me. I swear. I have to go home, though. If I don’t then he’ll call the cops.” He’s done it before. Played it off like a concerned parent. Fortunately, my own reputation precedes me and everyone in this town thinks I’m a good girl. It’s not a lie. I am good, at least I try to be. But someone taught me not too long ago that being nice only makes you appear weak. What these people don’t know is that I grew a backbone and I’ll never let anyone break me again.
“Alright. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Can we talk after class tomorrow?”
“How about if we meet at the park after dark? Make a plan for what’s coming.”
“You mean, a baby?” I look over at him. He raises a brow in question. “A baby, that’s what’s coming.” I don’t think he fully grasps what I’m trying to tell him. It’s like he doesn’t believe that I’m pregnant, or he doesn’t want to.
“Yeah. That’s what I meant. We can talk about the baby.” He pulls up in front of my house and turns his body toward me. “But Willa, this has to stay between us for now. All of it. We can’t let this news spread like wildfire. People can be….harsh.”
“I know. I haven’t told anyone and I don’t plan to. I told you, I’m leaving Redwood.”
“That also means that we have to carry on like normal for a while. Ya know, keep our distance like we usually do.”
“Ah, ok.” Makes sense now. He doesn’t want to be seen fraternizing with the pastor’s quiet stepdaughter. I push open the door with no hesitation. “Don’t worry, Lars. Your reputation is safe.” Then I slam it shut and walk briskly up the path to the house.
I don’t even turn around to look at him as my heart shatters into tiny pieces. What’s left of it, anyway. The other pieces are still lying in Tommy’s bed from the last time he broke it. Some are scattered around this house from the months of abuse I’ve had to swallow. Pretty sure Mom took a few chunks with her when she fled and left me here to endure the wrath of her monstrous husband. I’ve laid in bed often wondering how Mom couldn’t possibly know what goes on between the walls of this house. Maybe she just didn’t want to admit it because admission would mean guilt on her behalf. Doesn’t matter, anyway. All hearts break. I just have to smile through the pain, pretend like nothing is wrong, and bide my time until I can get as far away as possible.
Gulping down the lump in my throat, I close my eyes and say a silent prayer. Please, God. Please let him be asleep.
Holding my breath, I listen intently. It’s so quiet it’s eerie. Even my heartbeat sounds like thunder ripping through the room. Tip-toeing ever so gently, I startle myself by the creak of the old floorboards as I pass through the dining room. Pushing open my bedroom door, I step inside. Shutting the door, then locking it, I make sure the deadbolt is secure.
Rubbing my hand over my belly, I whisper, “Soon. This will all be over soon.”
I’m sound asleep when a gentle tapping noise startles me awake. It starts off like the tap of rain against the glass window, but quickly escalates into a repetitive pounding that has me up and on my feet quickly.
Stepping closer to the window, I watch for any type of movement behind the closed curtain. Taking the end into my hand, ready to pull it back hastily, I gasp when a dark shadow darts past the window. Ripping it open, I look left and right to try and catch a glimpse of the perpetrator, but whoever it is, is long gone. Was it just my imagination? I run my hands over my face and keep my eyes fixated on the lawn. Afraid to blink out of fear of missing something, or rather, someone. No. It wasn’t my imagination. Someone was definitely out there.
Pulling the curtain closed, I climb back into bed. With my back pressed against the cold metal bars, I keep my eyes wide open. Afraid to close them, worried that I’ll fall asleep and wake up to someone at the end of my bed.
Glancing over at the old clock on my nightstand, it reads two-twenty. I watch as the minutes tick by and the next thing I know, I’m waking up to the buzzing of my alarm. Slapping my hand to it a few times until it stops, I immediately get out of bed and walk back over to the window, pulling the curtain open.
Was it all a dream? Watching, waiting, looking for some sort of evidence that I didn’t imagine it, my eyes catch something on the glass of the window. A handprint—but it’s not just any handprint. It’s coated with chunks of dirt and debris and it looks like whoever did it, dipped their hand in mud before slapping it on my window. Chills slither down my spine as I try and wrap my head around who would have come here, and why. Though, it’s terrifying, it’s also reassuring that I’m not losing my mind.
8
Meeting up with Zed last night wasn’t a total waste of time. Even though his requests are irrational, we have a start. As of right now, the ball is in our court and we don’t have to worry about a body turning up—at least for the time being.
“Willa Mack?” Tommy says as he shakes his head in confusion. “Who the hell could he possibly be after that he can get to through Willa fucking Mack?”
“It’s Pastor Jeffries.” Talon chimes in from behind the couch where we sit. Tommy and I both turn around to look at him. His expression is bleak as he recants himself. “I mean, I assume it’s Pastor Jeffries. Who else would it be?”