Page 52 of Wicked Lies Grow Wildflowers
The official story to the public is that while Xander and I werebothattending my family’s Thanksgiving dinner, my mother’s boyfriend tried to sexually assault me. When caught, he threatened my life with the turkey’s carving knife. Once he made a move to actually kill me, Xander intervened to save me. Simon died of a single gunshot wound to the abdomen. My mother died the same way when she turned on Xander and I. Horrifying and tragic. Xander is the hero, and I’m the damsel in distress. And all I have to show for it is a faint cut still healing on my neck, along with a lifetime of trauma made a thousand times worse. Yay me. I should probably go to therapy, but at this point I think my therapist would have to get a therapist, and there’s just toomuch for me to contemplate unpacking it all so soon. But maybe someday.
The good news is Simon died nameless. His identity as The Skinner wasn’t revealed to the public on behest of Mark as he thought the media getting ahold of that info would be too risky. He thought that the public's general obsession with violent crimes would lead to people digging into connections that could link back to the Marino family, and that would make things messy. Because of Mark’s generous donations to the police department, they’ll do just about anything he says, which happens to be a good thing in this instance, especially because it’ll keep me out of the public eye. Mostly. Simon was just a random car salesman, not an interesting tidbit about him. The bastard wasn’t humbled in life but he’s surely humbled in death. I’m just an unfortunate orphaned daughter who’ll fade out of people’s memory soon enough once the next tragic death takes place.
I do feel some grief over the five women Simon murdered. Those are the only ones who have been found, at least. Their families will never see Simon suffer his consequences and will never feel like they have justice. I couldn’t change that outcome though, and I find comfort in knowing Simon will never hurt anyone else ever again.
One thing that won’t be fading anytime soon is my anger at Xander, and he knows it. I may have confessed my raw feelings of love to him in an incredibly vulnerable moment, but we are far from fixed. How can we be? It’s been less than a week and I’ve got a good month left of tumultuous emotions and grudge holding. And we haven’t really discussedeverythingin detail. I haven’t had the mental capacity for it. My brain still can’t comprehend my mother being dead.
“Hey baby, do you want me to call the funeral home for you today?” Xander asks cautiously.
Right.That. I’m really, really hating the role of only child right now. All of this responsibility for the house and funeral arrangements has befallen me.
“No, I can do it.” I gather myself enough for the agonizing phone call and spend the next forty-five minutes going over the details of what to do with my mother’s body. She didn’t have a will, so everything is my decision. I know my mother would have wanted to be buried in some stupidly ornate casket with a funeral procession consisting of everyone who’s ever met her, but honestly—fuck that and fuck her. I choose to have her cremated, give a general obituary for the newspaper, and that’s that. This feels like a good“screw you mom, you were always the absolute worst, have fun being dead”gesture.
When I end the call, sobs overtake me once again, while Xander just holds me, letting me fall apart on my living room floor. That’s the thing about grief, it doesn’t always make sense. There are no hard and fast rules. Leanne Butler may have been mommy dearest, but she was still my mother and that loss cuts deep, whether I’ll miss her or not. It’s going to take a while for me to reconcile my feelings and reach peace.
A week passesand I’m finally starting to come out of the fog I’ve been stuck in. I’m starting to eat again, just small meals here and there, but it’s something. Showers have become a source of comfort where I can cry and collect my thoughts simultaneously. I always walk out of them feeling a little more alive, my head a little clearer. I get dressed every morning and comb my hair, brush my teeth; I’m going through the motions. The office gave me two weeks of bereavement leave, considering thecircumstances, which was generous of them, and I definitely need it. I couldn’t imagine trying to hold real conversations right now, or act like the whole city doesn’t know my name.
Sage has been calling and texting but I’m not ready to see her yet. She might be a little offended that I’m choosing Xander, but he wasthere. He knows every detail of that night, the whole truth. And I’m not sure I want to ever share the real story with anyone else. I do, however, need Xander to answer a question that’s been nagging at me. I think I’m ready for the answer now.
I brace myself and straighten my sweatshirt as I exit the bathroom to find Xander sitting on his couch. He’s hardly left my side, staying home twenty-four-seven. As if he’s afraid to leave me, like I’ll bolt on him or hurt myself. Both valid concerns at this point, but I need to do this, regardless of how it makes me feel. If he’s not willing to be completely honest with me then there isn’t anything left of us. I just hope this doesn’t end that way because I know I can’t handle another loss, especially not him.
“I have one question, and I need the truth.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
XANDER
I’ve been waitingfor this. I knew eventually, Maeren would connect the last of the dots, and they would lead straight to me. She’s smart and even more mistrusting than before; she has every reason to be. I follow her to the kitchen and sit down across the table from her. She pulls her knees up to her chest and hugs her legs tightly, as if balling herself up will lessen the blow of the answers she’s about to get.
“You can ask me anything. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, I promised you that before and I mean it still.”
“You were stalking me too, weren’t you?” She whispers, her voice breaking on the last syllable.
I cast my gaze away from her face and think about my next words very carefully, not wanting to spook her. “Not like how you thought.”
She sniffles and keeps her gaze cast straight through me. “Meaning… ?” She trails off, expecting me to elaborate, and I don’t want to, but I have to. I have to show her that she can trust me completely, like she used to.
“I wasn’t lying when I said I never left you any notes or trinkets. Simon owned up to all of that, but I did watch you fromafar—mostly. The first night we met I was immediately drawn to you. I was only supposed to be out that night for work, but when you ran into me, I couldn’t take my mind off of you. You infiltrated every one of my senses and you wouldn’t fucking stop, so I sought you out on the dance floor.” I try not to smile. Her eyes are hard, but I can’t help from softening when I think of the night we met. I continue on, “I saw you leaving the bar, and I followed you. I followed you all the way home that night and sat outside of your apartment for hours.” I pause for a moment to catch my breath and gauge her reaction thus far. She’s fiddling with the sleeves of her sweater, her gaze now cast away from me and I clutch my mug of coffee before continuing on.
“I went home and looked you up using your address to search for records. I found out whatever I could about you. Your mother’s name, your birthday, who your best friend was, where you worked, what your hobbies were, everything. I just had to know everything I could, and I thought that if I just figured you out, I’d be done. I’d leave it all alone, but the more I learned, the less I could let you go.” I scrub a hand down my face at how insane I sound to her. But she wanted the truth and this is it. “I became fucking obsessed with you. That’s why I contacted you for that fucking house tour.Damn it,you’re why I bought it altogether. I needed an excuse to see you, to talk to you. You’re like a fucking addiction I can’t quit. A disease I can’t survive.” I stare at her, breathing heavy, noting the tears rolling down her red cheeks. I have the urge to lick every last one of them away.
“Some nights, when I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t get you out of my fucking head, I’d just drive over here and sit outside for hours. Being near you, even separated by a street and a few walls, was better than nothing. I’d look for a light to flicker. The flutter of your curtain, anything. And then, I’d go back home, fucking hating myself because I just couldn’t let you go. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t purge you out of mysystem. And then when I had my first real taste of you, when I fucked you, I knew I’d have to keep you. I’d need you forever because there was no way I could possibly survive without you,” I finish off, steadying my breathing. Maeren’s eyes are puffy and bloodshot, snot soaking the collar of her shirt that she keeps using as a tissue.
“I, I think I need to leave,” is all she says to me, and I can feel myself breaking down. I can’t lose her. I can’t fucking lose her again. She wanted honesty and I gave it to her, I don’t want to lie but I can’t fucking lose her.
“Wildflower please?—”
“I need to bealone. I have to be able to process everything on my own. I’m going home. Tomyhome.” Her words are calm but hold a lethal edge, one that’s holding back hysteria.
“Maeren, please, let’s just talk about this, are you sure you want to go back there yet?” I try and reason, my voice cracking on the last word.
She goes silent, taking one deep breath before whispering, “I’ll be fine. I just need some time to wrap my head around things. With everything that’s happened, I just need some time. A couple days maybe. I don’t know, but I’ll let you know when I’m ready to see you again.Please,don’t fight me on this.” She closes her eyes and lowers her head to her knees. I just want to fucking hold her.
The sorrow in her voice guts me, she sounds utterly defeated, causing me to relent even though it’s the last fucking thing I want to do. But we won’t get anywhere with our emotions this high, and I know if I push her too hard I’ll regret it. She just needs some space, even though giving that to her after all we’ve been through feels like a thousand knives stabbing me in the heart. “Yeah, yeah okay.” I stand up from the table. “Let me help you get your things.”
When Maeren’s standing at my open door, I wrap her in a hug, resting my chin on her head and kissing her crown. “This isn’t over, Maeren. So take however long you need, but you’re mine. I’ll wait however long you need me to. There will never be an end to you and me.” And with that she pulls away and grabs Gracie, leaving my apartment and taking my heart and soul with her.
I bash my fist into my wall before screaming into the quiet space. We aren’t over, she just needs space, time alone, I remind myself. It’s just a fight and couples fight all the time, maybe not about shit like this, but still—it’s normal. We already made it through something even more vicious, we can do it again.
