Page 55 of Until You

“Dad, stop,” Addy shrieks as she runs straight toward me, her laughter just as loud as her smile.

Paige holds up a spoon and flings more my way, the blob hitting me squarely on the chest.

“This. Is. War,” I declare.

The statement was more than accurate because when all is said and done, when the girls have jumped in the shower to clean up, I’m left with my batter-slicked hands on my hips and an utter disaster to pick up.

But from Tenny earlier, Dusty calling me on the carpet, then my girls’ giggles—their hugs? These are memories of not being perfect.

They’re exactly what I needed.

What I need.

A simple reminder of what matters the most.

A reminder that I’m alive for a reason.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Tennyson

When my cell rings, I jump as if it isn’t already in my hand and I’m not desperately waiting for Peter to call.

“Hi. It’s me. I’m here,” I say, the adrenaline of the day coming out in those five simple words. “Peter?”

“You’re good?”

What kind of question is that after he hasn’t called me back for five hours. “Yes. No. You tell me.” I chuckle nervously. “You called me.”

“I did. I just wanted to tell you that you might see some stories in the news about some things possibly tied to him,” he says, not mentioning Kaleo’s name as is protocol. “I just wanted to reassure you that everything is still okay. That you’re still okay.”

“How can you be so sure? The articles said that—”

“I know what they said, but that person ceased to exist. There are no records saying otherwise.”

“Databases can be hacked. They can—”

“And if they are, what will be found are images of the mangled car, autopsy photos of charred remains, dental records confirming that person died.”

Chills blanket my skin as they do every time I think of my death being documented like this.

“His reach is endless, Peter. We both know that.”

“It’s only endless if he thinks that person is still alive—and to the rest of the world, she’s not.”

My sigh is long and shaky as I try to take his words to heart. As I try to hold on to them.

“Look. I understand why you’re uncomfortable, why you doubt, but I’m telling you that I am the only person who knows your whereabouts and so forth.” He pauses for a beat. “You’re allowed to be scared.”

I’m terrified.

I’m sick of being terrified.

And just when I felt like I could start breathing again, just when I decided to start participating in life, I’m shocked back to reality.

To the truth.

To knowing that regardless how safe “Peter” says I am, I’ll probably be looking over my shoulder the rest of my life.