Page 42 of Wicked Lies Grow Wildflowers
Ice crunches under my feet as I cross the street to my car, the cold leather seats leeching their chill through my jeans. I slam my hands against the steering wheel, beating on it with my frustration and fucking rage. And then it hits me.
If I didn’t leave that shit, then who did?
My blood runs cold at the thought, a nagging feeling surfaces. Maeren wouldn’t cheat, I know that. She’s the most loyal person I know, and I haven’t ever seen anyone hanging around aside from Sage. Which means whoever has done all of this is unknown to Maeren. A stranger. A fucking psychotic stranger trying to getmy girlin this insanely fucked up way. I feel nothing but disgust and horror at the thought of anyone else trying to get to her. To touch her, to take what’s fuckingmine.
I’ve spent so many days and nights driving by checking on Maeren, just fucking watching from afar and I’ve never once seen anyone out of place come or go. No suspicious activity to speak of, aside from myself, of course. Which means whoever has been doing this knows how to be sly. They know to make sure no one is watching, andfuck—they know her schedule too.
I’m torn between wanting to run back inside and make Maeren understand and wanting to give her space to figure shit out on her own. If I press her too hard right now she might hate me more and I don’t think I could handle that. I choose to give her space, but not too much. She shouldn’t be left alone right now, not when I know someone else is watching her.
I sit in my car and keep my eyes trained on her apartment until all of her lights switch off, shifting into drive and pulling away once they do. The look on her face as she screamed at me to get out nearly brought me to my fucking knees. I have to fix this, she’s still mine, she will never not be mine, she just has to realize that. I’m going to find out who’s been fucking with her, and then I’m going to make them regret every single time they fucked with what’s mine.
When I get home I tear into the parking lot, storming into my condo and slamming the door. I pace my living room, pulling at my hair.
“Fuck!”I scream in anger before grabbing a glass off my end table and hurtling it at the wall. That felt good, the crash of the shattering glass therapeutic. For a quick second I debate throwing every fucking dish I own but decide better. This isn’t productive. This doesn’t get her back.
I’m usually very emotionally regulated, having to be with the nature of my profession. Hot heads don’t do well as professional killers, it requires careful planning and extreme control, a certain level of finesse that only the ultra-calm can master. I close my eyes and unclench my fists, rolling my neckout and relaxing my entire body. Counting to ten, I focus on my breathing until I feel level headed again.
Time to figure out a way to win back what’s mine.
I’ve used allthe tools in my arsenal to check out each one of Maeren’s neighbors. Everyone clears, no red flags to be found. Not one tenant has anything on their criminal record, everyone is young, and the building seems nice and quiet, so that rules out any of them. I drum my fingers on my desktop, humming as I try to figure out another angle.
Cameras. There aren’t any in her building, seeing as it’s only a quadplex, but I can install a hidden camera. Unfortunately I don’t have any on hand. I could also see about hacking into any security cameras that may be in the neighboring buildings, so I make a plan to drive over there tomorrow. I can’t go back so soon, I’m not in the clearest headspace for that by any means, and I don’t trust myself to not stand at her door and beg her to let me in.
Scrolling through pages of security devices I find exactly what I’m looking for. A small wireless camera that I could so easily attach to one of the bushes next to her apartment building’s front door. The live feed would allow me to track anyone who comes and goes with my phone. Setting it up on Maeren’s Wi-Fi will be a breeze. Perfect. I order it and just have to bide my time for the next three days until it arrives. That’ll be easier said than done, I’m sure.
CHAPTER THIRTY
MAEREN
Pacingaround my room trying not to hyperventilate, my thoughts drift to the fight with Xander. I don’t understand why the fuck he would lie to me like that. I told him nothing he did bothered me. I told him I wasn’t afraid, and still helied. One of the only two people in this world who truly care about me blatantly lied and I don’t know how to let it go.
I feel like I can’t take in enough air. I crawl into my bed and under the covers, trying to not think about how the sheets still smell likehim. I really really thought that he could have been my forever, and it turns out my forever was over in two short months. I could see myself becoming truly happy for the first time in my life. There was someone willing to care for me and take care of me and protect me andlove mefor the first time and now it’s all over.
Maybe I blew things out of proportion, maybe it really wasn’t him? The reality is that Xander is as shitty as everyone else who’s ever fucked me over, and I can’t handle one more person trying to make me feel fuckingcrazy.I can’t be crazy, I can’t be like my mother.I can’t I can’t I can’tI chant to myself over and over as my nails tear angry red streaks from wrist to elbow.
The more I think through every interaction with Xander and compare it to every nagging feeling I’ve had over the last couple months, the less sure I become of anything. I don’t know If I’m more angry at Xander, or at myself. I thought my eyes were empty of tears but the dam breaks once more and I can’t hold back the river of tears flowing down my face as I cry myself to sleep.
The next four days are spent in bed after calling out of work with the excuse of having the flu. Sage thinks I’m sick as well because I refuse to tell her what really happened. I donotwant to be responsible for someone’s murder and I know with absolute certainty that she would murder Xander if I told her how badly he had upset me. Instead I lied and told her I saw the doctor and had meds but I did not want to risk getting her sick by having her visit me. It wasn’t like I was dying even if it felt like I was. She was pissed, but eventually relented if I promised to tell her as soon as I was better so she could come over, which I did begrudgingly. I only left my bed to use the bathroom and grab small bites of food, spending the rest of my time drifting in and out of consciousness in an effort to block out the entire world while in my warm cocoon with Gracie.
Then my phone rings, once, twice, three times. I hope to God it’s not Xander. He’s already been texting me every fucking day, I don’t need him to start calling me too. I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my head with my pillow, trying to block out the shrill sound, not wanting to know who’s name is flashing across the screen.
The ringing stops and I finally look at the notification, it’s none other than the devil herself—my mother. Not wanting to talk to her I let the call go to voicemail once more before my phone buzzes with an onslaught of messages. Still better than actually talking to her. I’m not mentally strong enough to resist her provocation at the moment, and one mean comment willsend me into another spiral. After several minutes the messages stop coming.
3:31 pm: “I see you don’t have time to answer your phone.”
3:32 pm: “Just so you know Thanksgiving is next Thursday if you would like to join us. Simon would love to have a family dinner.”
3:32 pm: “Though I’m not sure why after the last one went awfully, all thanks to you of course.”
3:34 pm: “You need to attend, I would love to have the three of us together.”
3:35 pm: “I’ll see you Thursday at five—don’t be late, and don’t embarrass me.”
Lucky me, another holiday with my mother, sure to be terrible like all of the rest. I’ve been so good about not caving to her, but this doesn’t exactly feel like surrender. If I don’t go she’ll be on my ass for weeks but if Idogo I’ll only have to suffer through a few hours with her, pretending to be cordial and like I’m not planning on it being the last time I ever see her. The choice is obvious and I have five days to prepare.
I type out a succinct message and hit send, preparing to try and drag myself out the dark space I’m in so I don’t have to face an onslaught of questioning. Leanne can scent weaknesses from a mile away, after all.
Me: Sure, thanks for the invite. I’ll bring pie. See you Thursday.
