Page 89 of Love Sick

Rubbing my foot onto the pant leg of my jeans to dry it off, I try again. I turn my body so I’m facing the roof and begin carefully scaling the pipe. I hold on to the tiles and take slow, steady steps because I can’t rush this.

The torrents of rain blind me as my wet hair sticks to my face, but I persevere. I don’t look down, only focusing on how far I have to go. Thunder echoes loudly, followed by lightning. It feels as though the heavens are punishing me for my sins because the atmosphere is one of utter darkness and dread.

Each step I take only gets harder because the rain is punishing and the wind picks up speed. My fingers grip the jagged tiles because one wrong move and it’s a long way down. I measure each step and the rain sounding against the roof reminds me of a high-hat sounding.

I zero in on the sounds the universe throws at me and hum along to the rhythm in my head. The chaos soon becomes music and I envision each sound a note I can play on the piano.

Music, as always, helps me, and I use it now to push past the reality of falling to my death. Each step is transformed into music and I hum along to the song inside my head. I know I use music as a coping mechanism; I always have.

But it’s how I’m wired, and when I step onto the small ledge around the drainpipe, I embrace my strangeness because it’s saved my ass time and time again. I latch on to the pipe and slide down it with ease, thanks to it being slick because of the rain.

When my feet touch the ground, only then do I peer up and see how far up I really was.

The earth is sludge beneath me, so I take big steps as I run toward the front door. A flash of lightning bounces off Noah’s keys on the porch.

Snatching them, I race to the front door and fumble with the keys. I try two, they don’t fit in the lock. But the third, it clicks and I shove open the door. It slams shut behind me because the wind now resembles a hurricane.

I run up the stairs and down the hallway to the bedroom. “Let’s go!” I shout, but the moment I enter the room, I stop dead in my tracks because Luna was right. Bad things tend to happen when we’re apart.

Luna is where I left her, but Daddy is now with her—holding the shiv she made to kill Noah to her throat.

“Here he is,” he quips with a large smile. “You’re really too smart for your own good.”

The gun at the small of my back is my only saving grace, so I need to play it smart. “So you have been watching us this entire time then?”

“Not the entire time.”

“But enough to appear at the right times? Don’t fucking insult me.”

Daddy chuckles. “If you just listened, none of this would have happened. Lana is sweet on you, but I should have just killed you both and been done with it.”

“Go on then,” I challenge, calling his bluff.

If he wanted us dead, we would be already. It has nothing to do with Alanna. He needs us because of his precious reputation and that of Parkfields.

To a man like Daddy, his reputation is everything to him. His efforts to “help” those who need it are no doubt celebrated among his peers. To have that reputation tarnished would be a punishment worse than death.

But he knows he can’t bet on Luna and me.

We’re not going to roll over. So now, he needs to get creative.

“I don’t need you both, so you choose…who lives and who dies.”

“What?” Luna gasps, eyes wide.

“That’s easy,” I calmly reply. “You know I won’t stop until one of us is dead.”

“I know. But your death will have a far bigger impact because of who you are. And my colleagues are excited to see you perform.”

“I won’t be paraded like a prized poodle.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll do anything I say to save the one you love.”

Luna has always been my Achilles’ heel. That’s why she’s still alive. I know she believes she’s the reason for all this, but the truth is, I am.

“You know I won’t do what you ask,” I state firmly, subtly making eye contact with Luna.

We need a window where she is out of harm’s way so I can shoot this fucker between the eyes.

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