Page 121 of Chasing Infinity

“It was him,” I say to my mother, my voice low as we pass through the hospital’s automatic doors. I don’t specify who I’m talking about because I don’t think I need to. My heart aches to leave Addison behind, but the exhaustion is starting to wear on me, making my feet grow heavier with each step. I desperately need a shower and a new change of clothes.

My mother doesn’t respond as we cross the parking lot to her car, but her silence is enough. I know. The tight set of her lips tells me everything she’s not outwardly saying—there’s no proof, but she knows my father better than I do, and by her expression, even she wouldn’t put it past him.

Once I’m settled in my mom’s car, I lean back in my seat. I rest the side of my head against the window, the coolness of the glass calming my rattled nerves. My mother starts the car and pulls away from the hospital parking lot. The car is quiet, aside from my mom’s favorite classical music playing from the stereo and the sound of the road underneath our tires. The melodic tone of the classic piano clashes with the emotions raging inside me. Eventually, my mother breaks her silence.

“You were very brave last night,” her soft voice is melodic to my ears and causes my chest to tighten. The world swims in front of my eyes. I close them tightly to stop the spinning. “You saved her life, Noah.”

My stomach lurches as the events of last evening wash over me. I think the stress of finding out if Addison was going to be okay helped hold me together, but now that I know she’s okay and safe, I suddenly feel like I’m spinning out of control. Nausea hits me like a tsunami, and I bend forward, grabbing onto the dashboard. “I need you to pull over,” I say. My voice is muffled by my hand covering my mouth like it could prevent me from flooding my mother’s pristine car with vomit.

My mother doesn’t waste time pulling off the road onto a shoulder. As soon as the car slows down enough, I throw my door open and step out, throwing up all over the grass. I bend over, my hands resting on my knees as I spit out the taste of the bile in my mouth, afraid to move in case more comes up. I hear a car door open and slam, and then my mom’s by my side, one hand on my shoulder and the other rubbing up and down my back.

“He did this to her,” my voice breaks, my throat burning. I reach up and wipe at the tears in my eyes, evidence of the stress I’ve been through and a physical reaction to the violent vomiting. “Why would he do this? He took everything from her.” I stand up straight, staring her in the eyes, needing to see her answer as well as hear it.

“I know, honey. I’m so sorry,” my mother coos as she continues to rub my back.

“And I can’t even prove that he did it! Why is he like this?” My eyes widen as the realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Stepping away from my mother, I fall to my knees and break down on the side of the road. I brace my hands on the grass, my shoulders slouching forward and my head hanging heavy. Sobs engulf my body as the world’s weight crashes onto my shoulders. Memories of how Addison broke down after hearing about her parents haunt me. The sound of her heartbreak rings in my ears. I’ll never be able to forget that. Her pain is my pain. And what’s worse? I’m basically the one who caused it.

“Breathe, Noah,” my mother says. She returns to my side and pats me on the back, speaking soothing words trying to get me to calm down. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“It’s not okay. What if he goes after her again? I was stupid last night and confronted him, blamed him for the whole thing. Parks—what if he hurts her again?” Panic sets in deeper, like claws stabbing through my heart.

“We’ll figure it out, Noah. Nothing will happen to her. Trust me.” She wants me to have trust? My mother, I trust. My father, I don’t. He’s a loose cannon. Who knows what he’ll do next?

My mother manages to coax me back into the car and drives us home. I fall into the seat and don’t move until she parks the car again. Dragging my feet, I schlep into the house, my face downcast at the floor. Tremors take over my body as my brain still attempts to process everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours. The taste of bile lingers in my mouth, and all I want is a hot shower and a toothbrush.

“Noah?” my father’s deep voice echoes from the living room, making my heart drop to my stomach. “Catherine?”

My mother stops me with a reassuring hand on my shoulder like she can sense my anxiety from facing him. But still, I brace my shoulders and turn to face the doorway to the living room. My father steps out into the foyer, his hand wrapped around a glass of a deep amber liquid, most likely his favorite brand of scotch. My father scans over me, taking in my singed clothes and rumpled hair.

“You look like shit, son.”

I sneer at him, curling my top lip up into a snarl. “And you look like a lying bastard.” My father remains cool as I throw the insult at him. My mother flinches next to me at my aggressive tone and abrupt attack.

“Noah,” she starts, her hand flexing against me in a subtle warning. “You’ve had a long day. I think you should just head up to bed and get some rest. We can all discuss this in the morning.”

I turn and look at her incredulously. Her eyes are like steel as she stares me down, silently warning me to listen to her. I lower my weapons and turn back to my father once more, shooting him a sideways glance before taking another step towards the stairs. But my father decides he needs to have the last word.

“I’ll be speaking at the Parks’ memorial service in two days,” he hums at me and takes a sip of his drink, acting like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

I spin to face him again and grit through my teeth, “What?”

“In the face of a town tragedy, it’s normal practice for the mayor to be present at the memorial,” he responds matter-of-factly as if he’s reading off the town bylaws word-for-word. “I figured you’d like to hear it from me first so you don’t launch yourself across the stage when I get up there. I feel that’s a valid concern since you seem to have lost all sense of decorum in the last forty-eight hours.”

I gape at him, unsure of how to respond. My eyes flash to my mother, and I’m slightly relieved to see she looks just as dumbstruck as I am. “You have a lot of nerve,” I finally growl out.

He shrugs as if the whole thing is no big deal. “I just go where they tell me. Don’t be mad at me that my townspeople want their mayor to reassure them when a tragic event happens.”

“So this is how you’re going to play it, huh?” I say. “You’re going to be the one that swoops in when people need a hero, despite knowing you’re the one who caused all this pain and tragedy.”

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I suddenly have the greatest desire to take a few steps toward him and punch him across his smug face, but some part of my brain is coherent enough to know that’s not a good idea. “I’ll tell everyone, you know. And I won’t stop until someone listens to me.”

My father’s lips twist, and his steely eyes trace over me. “No, you won’t.”

“And why is that?”

“Because, as I told you last night, you don’t want to cross me. And besides, no one will believe you.”

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