“Thanks, but I think this is something Anthony and I need to do together.” I glance at him for confirmation, and he nods slightly. “But the boxes would be great.”
“Consider it done.” She disappears into the back room, presumably to find suitable boxes for a library’s worth of books.
Mia looks between Anthony and me, concern evident in her eyes. “Just... be careful, okay? That place holds a lot of bad memories. You have PTSD, you may have flashbacks.”
“I do have some good memories there of my favorite books. But, maybe I can make some good ones on the way out,” I remind her, thinking of my library, of the books that kept me sane through years of Eli’s control. Too bad the new memories can’t be of me burning it to the ground. “The books helped me survive. They gave me somewhere else to go when I couldn’t physically leave.”
Anthony’s thumb traces circles on the back of my hand. “And now they’re coming home with you. Where they belong.”
We take the car for a spin and grab a pick up sushi order from Akira sushi. The rest of the day passes in a fog of anticipation and dread. I go through the motions—printing, binding, helping customers, but my mind keeps drifting tothe house. Will it look the same? Will I see blood on the stairs, still? Will I feel Eli’s presence lingering in the rooms like a ghost?
By closing time, my nerves are wound so tight I jump when Mia touches my shoulder.
“Hey,” she says gently. “Anthony’s waiting outside.”
I look up from the order I’ve been fumbling with for the past half hour. “Already?”
“Time flies when you’re having an anxiety attack,” she jokes, but her eyes are soft with concern. “You really don’t have to do this today.”
“I do, though.” I stand, gathering my purse and jacket. “If I don’t do it now, I’ll just keep finding reasons to put it off.”
Valerie appears with a stack of flattened boxes under her arm. “These should hold a decent number of books. Need help assembling them?”
“We’ve got it,” I assure her, taking the boxes. “Thanks, Val. For everything.”
She pulls me into a tight hug. “You call me if you need anything, okay? I don’t care what time it is.”
“I will,” I promise, throat suddenly tight with emotion.
Outside, Anthony waits beside my new Subaru, keys in hand. “Figured you might want me to drive,” he says, holding them out.
I shake my head, taking a deep breath. “No. I need to drive myself there. Take control of how this goes.”
He nods, understanding without needing explanation. “I’ll follow on the bike, then.”
As I slide into the driver’s seat, placing the folded boxes on the passenger side, I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. My eyes are steady, my jaw set withdetermination. This isn’t the same woman who fled through a window five months ago. That woman was broken, terrified.
This woman is driving herself back to face her demons, with the man she loves following behind. Not to rescue her, but to stand beside her while she rescues herself.
I start the engine, watching as Anthony mounts his motorcycle. The Subaru shifts colors in the late afternoon sun, blue to purple, and back again. Like me, changed by circumstance, but still fundamentally myself underneath.
It’s time to go get my books.
35
Anthony
Ifollow Lila’s Subaruas it shifts from blue to purple in the late afternoon sun, keeping my bike close behind her. Every few seconds, I check to make sure she’s okay through the rear window, watching for any sign that this trip to her old house is too much for her. The road winds along the bay, familiar territory from all those nights I spent watching her, but everything is different now. No more masks, no more secrets between us. Just Lila driving toward her past, and me following, ready to help her face whatever ghosts still linger in that house.
When we reach the long private drive leading to her old home, she slows almost to a stop. For a moment, I think she might turn around. Her brake lights glow red in the fading daylight, and I can see her silhouette as she sits there, hands gripping the wheel. Then, with what looks like a deep breath, she continues forward, the electronic gate grinding loudly against the pavement as it opens. I followher through, the space between tall dune grass opening up to reveal the house where she nearly died.
It looks different in daylight. Less ominous, more ordinary. Just a modern two-story with large windows and a deck that leads down to a patio on stilts. Hard to believe this was the setting for so much pain. But houses don’t cause suffering, people do. And Eli is locked away, awaiting trial for what he did to Lila and potentially others. The evidence against him keeps mounting, especially after they linked him to Amanda Finley’s disappearance. Dillian thinks it’s just a matter of time before they find her body.
Lila parks in the circular driveway, and I pull up beside her, cutting the engine on my bike. Through her window, I can see her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, her eyes fixed on the front door. I give her a moment, not rushing her. This has to happen at her pace.
When she finally opens her door and steps out, her face is set in determination, though I catch the slight tremble in her hands as she smooths down her skirt.
“You okay?” I ask, dismounting from my bike.
