Page 51 of Duress
When I pull up in front of her house, there is a Coming Soon sign from a local realtor swaying gently in the breeze in the front yard. The police caution tape that was up during the investigation is gone. There is no sign of the bloody confrontation that happened in this quiet, gated community. My skin prickles at the thought that maybe Everly has left me completely. That she chose to run away from me. From us.
I park my car in their obnoxious circular driveway and jog up to the front door, pounding it with my fist. The wound in my side protests at the vigorous movement, but I ignore it. My heart is hammering in my chest, fear that I’m going to find an empty house and no Everly sending me into a panic.Please be here. I send up a silent prayer, hoping I haven’t missed my chance to let her know how I feel.
An intolerable amount of time passes before I hear footsteps on the other side of the door. “Everly!” I pound on the door again, relishing in the pain as I hit it harder than I should with my fist. The pain is a momentary distraction from the anxiety building inside of me. That foreboding sense of being too late is thrumming through every synapse.
Pressing my forehead to the door, I plead with heragain. “It’s Dane, Ever. Please open the door. We need to talk.”
There is quiet shuffling on the other side of the door. Furtive movements like she’s struggling with what to do. Then I hear a soft sigh and the turn of the deadbolt. When the door swings open, there she stands, fragile and broken. Her hair has been cut short, in an asymmetric bob that shows off the angry, red gash on her scalp. Her face is pale and eyes bloodshot. From tears or lack of sleep, I have no idea. Her body is covered completely in a chunky sweater with an oversized collar but I can see splotches of purple, green and yellow marring the creamy skin of her neck, and it sends a fresh wave of hatred toward my brother coursing through me. He did this. He broke her, and I have to fix it.
“Dane, why are you here?” Her voice is soft. Timid. She glances past me to the driveway, like she’s worried someone will see us. Her body language is closed off, and I can tell I’m going to have an uphill battle getting her to listen to me.
“We need to talk. Can I come in?” As much as every instinct in my body is screaming to go to her and pull her into my arms, I hold back. I will not be like my brother. I will not take away her choices or manipulate her. I watch as she bites nervously on her bottom lip, considering my request before slowly nodding and stepping aside to let me in.
Entering the foyer, I see cardboard boxes against the wall. The smell of bleach and cleaning products is thick in the air. I guess that means the crime scene cleanup crew has been out here already.
She watches me as I cast my eyes around the space, taking in the bare walls that used to hold framed photos of her and Bryce, documenting their make believe fairy-tale romance.
“You’re moving?” The question is painfully dumb based on how obvious the answer is, but I’m not sure how to begin now that I have her in front of me. The connection that flowed between us the last time we made love, tethering my soul to hers, feels brittle and fragile. I’m afraid if I say the wrong thing it will shatter into a million pieces, causing me to lose her forever.
“I can’t stay here. Not after everything. This life was built on lies. I don’t want it.” She turns, leading me to the living room where open boxes sit, half packed with a myriad of books and pictures, waiting to be filled. I follow her like a puppy, unable to be apart from her for one second. The bleach smell is strongest at the bottom of the stairs as we pass them, the only sign that this is where Bryce died.
“Where are you going to go?”
“I don’t know yet. My friend Ana has a guest house, so I’m going to stay with her until this house sells. Then…I’m not sure. I just know I can’t stand to be in this house any longer. It was never mine to begin with. This house was Bryce’s dream. I thought it was mine too, but now that he’s gone I don’t feel like I belong here.” She turns to face me, her lips set in a thin, determined line. “Why are you here, Dane?”
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you, but youhaven’t been returning my calls.” I reach out to grab her hand, but she steps back, out of my reach.
“My lawyer advised me it would be a good idea for us to keep our distance until the case is officially closed.” She averts her eyes when she says those words, and I have a feeling it’s more her idea than her lawyer’s. That realization stabs me in the heart.
“Does she know? About us?” Everly shakes her head, causing the longer half of her hair to shift, curtaining one of her eyes. She bites her bottom lip again, and I can see where she’s worried it so much it looks chapped and raw.
“No. I told her he wanted me to convince you to help him with a case and he became paranoid that we were having an affair behind his back, but I haven’t told her the full truth. She just thought it would be a good idea for us to not give the police any reason to pull on that thread and look deeper. If…if you want to tell hereverything, you can. I won’t deny it. I meant what I said that night. I will take the blame for hiding the truth of Jake’s?—”
I cut her off with a kiss. It’s gentle, barely more than a brush of my lips against hers, but it does the trick. She lets out a soft gasp and looks at me with bewilderment dancing in her hazel eyes.
“Listen to me, Everly.” I cup her face in my hands, directing her gaze to my face so she can’t hide from what I’m about to say. I will not leave without telling her how I feel. If she can’t be with me after that, I’ll accept it, but I have to let her know. I won’t let her linger in this hellish purgatory full of guilt and self-loathing. Not when I know her heart is so good.
“I forgive you.” Her lower lip trembles at those words, so I press on, making sure I make myself abundantly clear.
“I forgive you. I understand why you didn’t say anything. I know you were trying to do what you thought was right. Bryce is the one I hate. Not you. Never you.”
Tears shimmer in her eyes as she lets my words sink in. It takes a long, long moment for them to seep through the layers of remorse, shame, and culpability I know she’s buried herself in. She tries to look away, but I hold her face firmly, making her hold my gaze.
“I love you. I know we have some epic, fucked up baggage we are going to have to work through, but you’re it for me, Everly, and I need you to know that. I don’t blame you. You’re a victim of his fucked up manipulation. Do not let Bryce’s darkness diminish the light inside of you, Everly.” Silent tears trickle down her cheek, and I brush them away with my thumb. I see the shadows that have been haunting her flicker and fade out as the tears come pouring out of her, cleansing what I hope is the last of the guilt burdening her soul.
I wrap Everly in my arms, clutching her delicately to my chest, letting her pour her grief into me, praying this is the moment we can begin again anew.
CHAPTER 47
EVERLY
Dane’s arms wrapped around my shoulders—locking my body against his in the safety of his embrace, while I finally let my grief out—feels more right than any of the previous years of my marriage to his brother. The soft, worn cotton of his T-shirt dampens from my tears as sobs rack through my body, expelling all the grief I held back over Bryce’s death.
I haven’t let myself mourn properly or process Bryce’s death, too busy trying to right his wrongs and make up for the complicity of my silence. I haven’t mourned the boy I married. The man I loved. The husband I thought I knew. The lie I lived. I’ve become a shark, forcing myself to keep moving, afraid if I stop I’ll sink into the abyss and not be able to find my way back out. As soon as I got the okay to go home, I immediately began dismantling the charade that was our perfect life, unwilling to play along with the farce any longer.
The last few days have been full of long, gruelinghours of packing away a life built on lies and dealing with all the paperwork involved with Bryce’s passing. I donated his suits to a local nonprofit that helps the unhoused get back on their feet and find jobs. I’ve packed away photos, mementos of a life that I’m not even sure was real. Donated the clothes I barely wore because I hated dressing like a stepford wife when Bryce trotted me out at events like a show dog. The longer I worked at deconstructing the life we had together, the more I realized how much I hated it. Hated how little of me there is in this house. How little of my dreams I got to follow. I threw myself into the work of closing this chapter so maybe one day I can live the life I once imagined having, as a hopeful young girl who had dreams of helping others.
Dane isn’t the only person whose calls I haven’t returned.
