Page 48 of Pretty Nightmare

We all know Indie is insane. That she is gone, and probably has been for several years, at least. That she isn’t going to make it much further.

I’m on her side. Even Adam is on her side. Donovan…I can’t tell. But I don’t think he matters. She never relied on him for much. He’s just not reliable.

But Nathan St. James has been the one thing she had going for her that other girls in her situation would not have had. He has been her constant for ten years and now that is about to be over.

Even if he stayed, even if she comes back from this… breakdown, it’s over now. There is no way Nathan will ever trust her again. Not after this beating.

I see the look in Adam’s eyes when he watches Indie. There’s still love there, but it’s tempered with a healthy dose of caution, not to mention a Plan B, should he ever need it.

If Nathan ever sees her again—and I’m gonna do my best to avoid that—he will have that very same look in his eyes.

It’s one thing to suspect someone you love is insane and this cannot be changed, no matter how you try, and hope, and pray. But it’s something else altogether to be kicked in the face with the truth.

Or hit over the head with it.

When I reach into the front pocket of my jeans, I am surprised to find my phone. Because it’s been a totally what-the-fuck kind of day and finding a thing you need, in the moment that you need it, is akin to a miracle in my eyes right now. But here it is, so I press a contact and turn my back to Nathan, who has slumped down to the ground in exhaustion.

“I have a pickup,” I tell the man who answers. I give him Nathan’s address and end the call.

“Stay here,” I tell Nathan. “I’ll pack up some things from your cottage and then I’ll take you down the driveway to wait for them to collect you. Is there anything special you want me to grab? Photos? Old family recipes?”

He laughs and then coughs and spits out blood. “Recipes, McKay?”

“I dunno what the fuck is dear to you, Nate. Do you want to keep anything or not? Because I’m gonna flatten that cottage to the ground and wipe you off the map. Two weeks from now there will be no evidence that a boy called Nathan St. James grew up there or that the cottage ever existed.”

“What will you tell Indie?” I see the pain in his eyes when the words come out. It’s a real question. But he’s not asking it as a threat. As a way to stop me. He’s asking it because he cares about her.

“I’m gonna tell her you died.” I look back at the house. “I’m gonna tell all of them you died so they don’t have to lie to her too. Just me. Just in case that matters one day.”

Nathan thinks about this for a moment. “You’re gonna tell her…” His one eyes squints down until it’s nearly closed. “You’re gonna tell her she killed me, McKay?” I nod, but he is shaking his head at the same time. “No,” he says softly. “Please don’t tell her that. Make up something else. Anything else. Just don’t let her eat that guilt. It will kill her, McKay.”

I start pacing in front of him, unsure now, because he’s probably right. “It’s my only option here. I’m not gonna tell her I did it. Or Adam. Or Donovan. It has to be her, Nathan. That’s the only way that makes sense. That’s the only way she’ll believe it without seeing a body. So do you want anything from your house or not? Because we need to make this happen.”

He repositions himself so he can see his home and then spends several long moments considering my question.

“If you don’t want anything,” I tell him softly, “you don’t have to take it with you. We’ll have everything you’ll need when you get where you’re going. And if it makes this decision any easier, Nate, I didn’t take anything when I left, either.”

I think he might cry right now. If he could. If his face wasn’t a swollen mess.

But it is a mess and he can’t.

“I guess I’ll leave it,” he whispers.

“Wise choice. And here’s a little tip for you. Since we’re on the same side now and I’m invested in your success. Don’t keep the evidence, Nathan. None of it. Ever. And that includes all the feelings inside you too. I cannot even tell you how many men have gone down because they needed to hold on to the evidence like a prize.”

His look is pure confusion. But that’s OK.

There’s no way he can understand the full meaning of my warning right now.

But he will soon.

The distant sound of a screen door slapping drags our attention back to the mansion. We find Donovan standing on the porch, flat hand up to his eyes like a visor, as he scouts for me.

Our eyes meet, even though I’m a good hundred yards away and across the garden.

Donovan doesn’t call out or try to get me a message. He can’t see Nathan, since he’s still sitting on the ground, propped up against the tree. He simply walks over to his car, gets in, and drives away.

“Where the fuck is he going?”