Page 105 of Before Now

He’s nowhere in sight as I tear down the street.

Icy wind seeps into my bones as I run, and then I see the police SUV parked up ahead and push harder. Even his unit panics me, but I dash up the sidewalk past it. I pound on the door, shivering and shaking. It jerks open. Hot tears flood my eyes, searing down my face.

Roman’s nostrils flare, his jaw grinding when he grabs for me. “Fuck, Rem,” he says, pulling me inside.

The door slams, and my face is already buried in his chest, fists clenching the back of his shirt. I hold on to him for dear life.

“He … Daniel, he?—”

“I know. I knew the second I heard the call go out, but I couldn’t find you.”

I don’t even think it’s a sob that rips out of me this time. It’s more painful. A splintering rather than a tear inside. Like half of me has no purpose anymore, and the rest is more broken than ever.

“You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” Roman’s chin rests on top of my head, arms locked around me. “I’ve fucking got you, pretty girl. He’ll never touch you again.”

30

REMI

Now…

I said the words aloud.

Sad maybe, but I’ve only cried them out, body racked in sobs. Words I’ve never calmly uttered, even to Roman, I gave to Foster.

I almost hyperventilated, ran away, and wretched in the toilet when I reached my room, but I said them. And I have a lot more I’ll need to give him.

It’s why I’m hiding on my balcony, curled up on the bench and wrapped in the bed’s comforter. I cried for a while on the bathroom floor before brushing my teeth and then sat under the hot spray of water in the shower for a long time. I need to simply exist for a bit, feeling the feelings of all the scars torn open at once.

Because just like why I still avoid looking at my dad’s SD card, admitting what happened to my mom makes it final. Even after all this time.

At least it was Foster.

The city of Austin stretches below me through the glass, extending for what looks like forever. I sit long enough my hair’s only damp when I fully return, both mind and body, and check my phone. I want the time but end up with something else.

Something better or worse, or both.

Hey, Remi.

Better.

My eyes close at the text from twenty minutes ago, the number unknown but not the sender. I respond the only way I can.

Hi, Foster.

His next message reminds me how Foster West rarely fights fair. I see part of his arm at the bottom of the picture, resting on top of the glass surrounding his balcony, and a gorgeous fountain in the lit courtyard below. A small smile forms while the sadness recedes a little. Like the last time he showed me a fountain.

I show him my view and then wait. When he calls, I can almost see his reflection in the window, phone in front of his face. I answer with the camera pointed at the comforter, then flip it to the cityscape. His goes from the gray of his shirt to the fountain.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t push. He’s just here. And eventually, I blow out a breath.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Foster. I should have told you when I saw you again in Prague. Or at the label before we left. I let you think I wanted to…” My gaze falls, like by not looking at the screen, I’m not looking at him. “What happened really fucked me up. At some point, I started forcing myself to not think about it so it wouldn’t eat away at me all the time. Then I refused to remember and hid from it. I needed to try and erase it to get my life back.”

“I’m sorry, Remi,” he says, soft and deep. “I didn’t know how she died, only that it was sudden. I hate you went through any of it. And you don’t owe me anything. When I—” He cuts off but then, “I’m just fucking sorry.”

I swallow, finding myself wanting to talk when I expected a need to retreat. “I found her after sending you my picture but before you replied. Daniel was already orchestrating to cover it up, and no one would believe me. Hell, half of the cops in that town likely helped pin it on the poor homeless guy they were setting up.”

I tug at the corner of the comforter and mess with the tag. “I have no idea what he would have done if I stayed. I dropped my phone, getting away from him. Probably for the best. He had a tracker app installed and might have caught me if I tried shutting it off while running.” My eyebrows dip, a wave of guilt crashing over me. “Not that it mattered in the end.”

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