Page 104 of Bad For Me (Rock Canyon, Idaho 5)

She could still remember those first few months. The laughter in the kitchen as they’d cooked their meals together. Popping fresh popcorn with real butter to have a movie night of whatever was new. Going to bed early, just so Tristan and she could make love, and falling asleep wrapped up together. It was like reliving someone else’s memories.

“I started to notice that on top of the moodiness and blackouts, Tristan would sometimes talk to himself. No, it was more like he was talking to someone I couldn’t see. Or someone was talking to him; I’m not really sure. He even told me someone was following him, but I never saw anyone. It just didn’t seem right, and eventually I asked him to go see a doctor. He told me he had, but it turned out he was lying to me and to himself. His parents didn’t even know he was having delusions until . . . ”

Callie rubbed at a scar as it tingled and saw Everett glance toward her out of the corner of her eye. Without a word, he reached for her hand and held it, squeezing it in his long fingers and palm. The gesture was so Everett, lending his strength when she needed it, that she took a breath and continued.

“I came home from work one night, and the house was too quiet. That was my first sign that something was really wrong. It was dark, but I saw my dog, Baby, on the floor. She was lying in a dark puddle, and when I knelt down to help her, I realized my hands were soaked in her blood.”

“Callie . . . ”

Tears fell over her cheeks as she continued. “I didn’t even see him. I was too busy trying to shut off the alarm. There was just a flash of pain in my back, and then I was on the ground with Tristan hovering over me with a knife, screaming nonsense. I kept trying to reason with him, but he was having a psychotic break. I couldn’t do anything but lie there as he plunged that knife inside my body, over and over. I remember thinking, just before I passed out, that it wouldn’t take long to die.”

“My God, Callie.” Everett pulled the truck off the freeway at the next exit and parked on the side of the road. Without even being asked, he unbuckled himself and slid across the seat, taking her into his arms, kissing and stroking her hair.

“When I came to in the hospital, I found out that he had killed our dog and my mother.”

“Jesus, Callie, you were lucky.”

“Yeah, that’s what the doctors said too. Do you see now why I didn’t want to tell you? I ignored all the signs that something was wrong. I deserved—”

He squeezed her so hard she cried out. “Don’t you dare say you deserved this. You did nothing wrong. Do you understand?” He loosened his grip and rubbed her back. “I’m sorry. But you cannot think like that. Tristan was responsible for what happened. You told him you thought something was wrong. You are blameless.”

He buried his lips in her hair, and she melted into his embrace, closing her eyes and absorbing his strength, his faith.

“What happened after? Did they arrest him?”

She laughed bitterly. “Yes, but he had a really good lawyer who brought in all kinds of experts to testify on his behalf, and Tristan had plenty of friends swear that he was a good guy who was just sick. Which I suppose is true, but . . . it just didn’t seem like enough, what he got.

“The judge agreed that the crime was horrific, but he didn’t want to add to the tragedy by ignoring the truth.” Callie snorted. “It was all bullshit. He was basically telling me that he felt sorry for Tristan and because of that, he allowed him to plead down to manslaughter. He was in a psychiatric hospital for less than two years, being treated for schizophrenia. Once they got him on the medication, they released him on medically monitored probation.”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

She sagged into him, drained. She’d told him, shared every detail of her past. She was on her way to meet the man who had haunted her nightmares, but Everett would be there.

She’d thought she would feel relieved or at least that Everett would look at her differently once she’d shared her past with him. Instead, he was watching her with that same, tender look he’d given her time and time again. And all she could think about was that now, she was about to face her worst nightmare—the man who had nearly killed her and had haunted her since. The man whose actions had nearly caused her to destroy herself.

“What made you decide to meet him?” Everett asked, as if reading her doubt.

“After you left yesterday, I sat down and read his letters. They started off as apologies and declarations of love.” She snorted. “Can you believe that? Just because he can’t remember, I’m supposed to forgive him?”

“No, of course not. What he did was unforgivable . . . but . . . ”

But? What but?

“Maybe seeing him will help you move on.”

Moving on. Everyone was moving on. She wanted to move on. So why did it feel like Everett was suggesting she let bygones be bygones?

“The last letter said he’s getting married. Why does he get to move on with his life?” Everett didn’t say anything, and Callie sighed. “Maybe this is a mistake.”

“If you really feel like that, I’ll turn this truck around and we’ll go home. You’ll never have to see him again.”

Callie stared out the windshield at the ro

lling hills and flat farmland stretching for miles in front of her. She did want to move on. She wanted her life back. This was the first step, and she had to take it. It had been a long time coming.

“Let’s go to Boise.”

AT TWO MINUTES to noon, Callie walked through the Cheesecake Factory doors, Everett right behind her. Her legs felt rubbery as she crossed the tile floors toward the hostess stand, pausing when Everett touched her hand.

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