Heart So Hollow (Dire Wolves Book 1), page 46
I doubt all of the paint will wash off tonight. It’ll stay on my skin to wear off with time, much like the welts beneath it and the assortment of nicks and scratches stretching from my knees to my ankles. At least the soles of my feet aren’t black anymore, the dirt washed down the shower drain along with a confetti of leaf crumbs and dried grass. Bowen sits on the tile behind me, his knees on either side of my hips as he extracts shreds of foliage from my hair, one by one. I lean forward, letting the water hit my chest as he rakes his fingers over my scalp, combing conditioner through my hair, all the way down my back.
“You mad at me?” Bowen grasps a fistful of my wet hair and gently pulls me back against his chest, kissing my temple.
I let my head fall back onto his shoulder, “No, I’m not mad at you.”
I can deal with a few paintballs to the back. Bruises will fade. But my nerves and my muscles haven’t recovered yet. I can’t calm them down and convince them I’m not about to die. I would’ve been angry about that part, but right now it’s the least I deserve; mental anguish of equal or greater value for what I’ve done, but still haven’t come right out and admitted to it.
Bowen runs his hands up and down my arms, washing away the remaining soap bubbles, “Something else is bothering you.”
And he’s right.
“Your mom and Hildy are pulling out all the stops with wedding planning,” I take a deep breath, “but I’m not good at this—all the stuff that goes into a big wedding—it’s just not me.”
“I know it’s not you,” Bowen doesn’t miss a beat, catching me off-guard, “it’s all Hildy. She had her entire wedding planned by the end of high school, whether it included Jay or not. She’s all about the big dresses and flowers and cakes and all that bullshit. And even though she’s had her wedding, she can’t wait to plan mine next. Meanwhile, you can’t even decide which movie to watch without an in-depth analysis,” he smiles, “so, what do you want?”
“I don’t want anything big. Your family knows everyone and everyone knows them, but I’m not like that. It gives me anxiety.”
“That’s one of the things I really like about you.”
“My anxiety?”
“No,” Bowen wraps his arms around my shoulders, crossing them over my chest, “that you’re not about appearances and the fake shit that only lasts for one day. You’re more than that. You’re contented with a quiet life, doing what you want to do. You have a few close friends like Barrett, and it doesn’t bother you that your family doesn’t even live in the same country because you don’t need to be constantly surrounded by other people.” He lets out a scoff, “Can you imagine if Hildy or my mom couldn’t reach each other within a three-minute window to decide which paper towels to buy? The fucking end of the world.”
“You and Hildy text every single day…” I quip.
He casts me a side-eye, “Valid point. But Brett when I said it’s all you, I didn’t mean you should do everything. I meant I’d marry you anywhere because none of the wedding stuff matters. So, tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”
There is something I want. And maybe it’s something that will make one major distraction in my life disappear, but I’m not sure I’ll get it even if I ask. I stare at the water hitting the tops of my legs for a moment and then decide to quit being a coward. If I’m going to marry this man, I should be able to tell him what’s bothering me.
At least, some things…
“Sometimes I feel like there are pieces missing from you.”
“Which pieces?”
“When I met you, I felt like I’d been searching for something for a really long time and I finally found it. Except, at the same time, I didn’t really know I was searching for anything. At first, you had this really dark, mysterious vibe going on and it was really exciting…” I hesitate, unsure of how to ask what I want to know, “but there are things that have happened, things you’ve said, and things Hildy and Hannah have said that make it seem like there’s something that no one wants to talk about.”
Bowen listens to me with calm consideration, “Like what?”
“Like why does Hannah act like she’s obsessed with you, but she showed up to Jay’s birthday with bruises all over her and acted like she was afraid of you?”
Bowen shoots me a knowing look, “Because I told her to leave you alone.”
“You don’t know where she got the bruises?”
His eyes wander across the tile, until they finally settle back on me, “I don’t know what’s going on with Hannah, but I don’t need to give her bruises to convince her to listen to me. If she said something bitchy to you, it’s because she knows she’ll never measure up. That’s just what she does. But I’m used to it, so I should’ve said something to her a long time ago before she started bothering you this much, so that’s my fault.” He rests his chin on my shoulder, “What else do you want to know?”
Ask him. Just ask him.
“Why does Hildy say she doesn’t know how your friend, Evie, died?”
Bowen blinks, pausing for a moment before tipping his head back to look at me, “What do you mean?”
“She was telling me the story about Evie and, at the end, she said she didn’t even know how Evie died. But that’s impossible because you told me. And when I told her that, she got really upset and said that you didn’t know shit about it.”
Bowen pauses, and then bows his head and presses his lips to my shoulder, “It’s the same reason I need to remember what Colson did to you.”
When he says Colson’s name out loud, it sends a jolt through my chest. I’m not expecting it, and for some reason it makes me really uncomfortable.
“What do you mean?” I ask with apprehension.
“You want things to be normal again—whatever that means. So, you try to look past people’s flaws and ignore things that should make you uncomfortable. That’s what Hildy does. Except, with Evie, she’s totally blocked it out and doesn’t remember that part.”
“She’s just repressed all of it?”
“Yeah, because it was horrendous. And everyone including me lets her because what difference does it make? Who needs to think about it anymore?”
I stare down at the water circling down the drain at my feet. I’m sure Barrett would agree. She sees stuff like this all the time, and she’s said as much about me. So maybe I was right, reminding Hildy of something she doesn’t think even happened probably wasn’t the best idea.
I glance over my shoulder at Bowen and nod in acknowledgement.
“Anything else?” he murmurs in my ear.
My cheeks tense as I crack a smile, “You ever had anyone chained up in Jay’s barn?” I can’t even say it without breaking into a laugh.
Bowen lets out a chuckle into my back, “No,” he shakes his head, “but…”
I whip my head around, “But, what?”
Bowen gives a shrug, “Jay does like to watch.”
“What?” I shriek, “Watch who? You?”
“Not recently,” Bowen laughs, “it was a long time ago. Shit was a lot different back then. I didn’t give a fuck about a lot of things I do now.”
“Apparently,” I roll my eyes and decide to leave it at that.
I lean forward, further this time, and let the water wash over my face and over my hair to rinse the rest of the conditioner out. Bowen stands up behind me and, once I’m ready, grasps me under the arms and gently lifts me to stand. I don’t even bother tossing and scrunching my hair like normal, I just want to dry off and get into bed. And when I let my marred and exhausted body fall onto the mattress, it feels just as good as I expected.
Bowen stretches one arm beneath my neck and wraps his other arm around my torso, pressing my back to his chest, “You give good apologies,” he murmurs into the back of my neck.
A silent laugh escapes on my breath, “That’s a relief.” It makes me feel better, even if he doesn’t know how much.
“I know you didn’t ask to relive Hildy’s repressed memories or deal with her defective best friend. But you’re my life now, baby girl. And if you give me all of you, I promise you’ll get all of me.”
I run my hand up and down his arm, from his elbow down to his calloused hand resting halfway down the front of my shorts. I believe him, but I know it’ll take time to forget Hildy nearly bursting into tears at her husband’s birthday and not feel anything but irritation whenever Hannah comes around.
But it’s worth it, right?
“Four,” I murmur into Bowen’s bicep.
“Four what?” he replies.
“Four babies…” I smile to myself in the darkness, “whether Jay watches or not.” I let out a snort, still unable to keep a straight face about that nonsense.
He’s still for a few moments and then envelopes me in his arms, “He can help me build more rooms onto this house,” he kisses my shoulder, “but you’re for my eyes only.”
Bowen is a beautiful trainwreck that appeared out of thin air, who embodies both stability and chaos. Maybe it doesn’t matter that I don’t know what he’s thinking at any given time—as if he knows what bizarre peculiarities live in my head.
As I’m about to drift off, his voice stirs me once more, “I promise I’ll get you more pajamas, too,” he whispers into the back of my neck.
Breathing into his arm, I hear Barrett’s voice in my head—again. But now she’s saying something different, repeating one phrase over and over again.
He’s a better version of Colson…
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Brett
Present
“It’s really a form of torture,” Judy draws up her knee in her chair, “but nobody sees it that way because it just seems like rude behavior. The patterns are so subtle that they can be extremely difficult to recognize. You’re the only one who really can, but you’re also being totally brainwashed in the process to the point you can’t trust your own mind anyway.”
Suddenly, Barrett’s voice echoes in my head—who’s going to believe you?
No one, that’s who. Not after he was done driving me insane and making everyone think the same. I had no best friend, no family in the same country, and everyone else poisoned by lies and deceit.
“I didn’t see it then,” I pause, smiling to myself as I recall, “but my boyfriend was the only one who never treated me like I was crazy. I mean, besides Barrett, but…” I trail off, not wanting to even think about the mess with her.
Judy smiles and gives a slow nod, “The one who’s still here,” she murmurs, “who stood with you through everything.”
“Yeah,” my smile fades, “and even after all that, I still feel like I’m not here. I still feel like I’m trapped in that room, with a monster breathing down my neck, and I don’t know how to get out. I should be happy. I have everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything should be perfect, but it’s not. Because I’m here, but I’m not here.” My breathing gets heavier and my eyes begin to well, “And it’s not fucking fair!”
Judy gazes at me for a few moments, her eyes sparkling. That’s what she always looks like when she’s getting ideas.
Finally, she clasps her hands at her chin, “I haven’t forgotten what you said about looking past the fear.” She narrows her eyes with a determined nod, “We need to get you out of that room. And there’s something I want to try with you at our next session. When it comes down to it, it could save your life.”
●●●
There’s a Thai place about a mile from the Toyota dealership that has the best Pad See Ew on the planet. Or, at the very least, in the state. I haven’t been to every Thai restaurant in the state, but it’s the best I’ve had since I moved here. And I really like Pad See Ew.
“This place is amazing!” Valerie mumbles through a mouthful of pineapple curry, “How’d you find it?”
“My boyfriend,” I reply, swirling a few noodles around my chopsticks and securing them by pinching a cube of tofu. I’m pretty good with chopsticks, but noodles are tough. I’ve finally gotten to the point where I can eat at a steady pace and not take an hour because I’m so slow. “He was born around here, and this is the first place he took me for an actual date.”
Looking around the restaurant, you wouldn’t think it’d be a prime location for romance, but anyone who’s ever been here knows it’s a gem hidden between the vast spans of farmland and forests. It’s jammed between a law office and an insurance agency in a nondescript building from the 80’s that looks like it’s in dire need of maintenance. Green leather booths peppered with scuffs and tears line the walls and there may or may not be an even number of chairs at the tables at any given time. The acoustic ceiling tiles near the kitchen are caving in, but there’s an immaculate fish tank near the hostess stand that looks like it belongs in a five-star hotel.
And it’s always crowded—always. I also love the name, Thai Planet. Its purple and green neon sign reminds me of a bowling alley and the name makes me wonder if I’ll run into the cast of Toy Story under the tables. But I’m not a snob. Far from it, actually. This is where I feel most comfortable, in an unassuming place with character that takes on a life of its own with each story shared over a plate of Pad Kee Maow.
“That’s really sweet,” Valerie takes a sip of water, “back in Cuyahoga Falls, there was a Chinese place that was kind of like this—didn’t look like much on the outside, but the food was amazing. Not like regular takeout, but authentic Chinese that you can’t get just anywhere.”
“Are you from Ohio, too?” I ask in disbelief.
Valerie pauses, going silent, “Yeah!” she finally grins, “That’s where I grew up…before moving here. Is that where you’re from?”
I nod and continue to wrap noodles around my chopsticks, “I grew up in North Bay, on the lake.” I glance up with a smirk, “What are the odds?”
“That’s so crazy,” she laughs, skewering a piece of chicken, “what brought you here?”
I continue twirling my noodles, taking leisurely bites of egg and broccoli, and savoring the sauce with just the right amount of spice. I could make something up—something normal. I could make it seem like the last year of my life weren’t taken straight out of a Lifetime movie. But what’s the fun in that?
“Well, I went to OSU and then worked in research and development,” I lift my eyes to meet Valerie’s, “but then I had to run for my life.”
She does a doubletake and her chewing slows, “Run for your life?” she repeats.
“Yeah,” I nod, “this guy I was…involved with…” I never know what words to use. They differ greatly depending on whether I’m talking about the beginning or the end of the story, “To make a long story short, I discovered he was surveilling me and gaslighting me so bad that I thought I was going insane.” I look down at my hand and confirm that it remains perfectly still, “It almost ruined my life. And then one night I got home from work and he was waiting for me…” I trail off, deciding not to go any further.
I look down at my hand again and it still hasn’t moved. The muscles are still relaxed, calm, not on the brink of panic. It’s good I decided to stop there. Don’t tempt fate, right?
“Waiting for you?” Valerie repeats with apprehension, hoping for some elaboration but refusing to come right out and say it.
I nod and pop a cube of tofu in my mouth, “He did some awful things. To me, to other people, but…” I trail off, pressing my mouth together as my eyes wander across the table top, “can I tell you a secret?”
Her brow arches in surprise, “Yeah,” she laughs, “of course.”
I take a deep breath, hesitating like I’m still trying to decide whether to speak. Then I plant my elbow on the table and bring my hand to my cheek as though to obscure my words from prying eyes.
“Even though he did awful things to me, I still think about him sometimes,” I murmur, my eyes rolling in shame, “I’d never met anyone like him. He was like a storm—slowly building before finally letting loose and wrecking everything in his path. He was a different breed…” I muse, “he spent so much time waiting for me and searching for me, and when he did, he was just as much mine as I was his,” I shoot her a wry grin over the table, “because he has a type…”
Valerie stares at me across the booth, her caramel irises hanging onto every word. Her eyes are alert, looking receptive and concerned, but there’s a faint rosiness of discomfort about her cheeks.
I tense my body and suppress the urge to cringe and instead smile, lowering my voice to continue my confessions, “Even after all this time, I’m sure he still sleeps in the same bed. Probably the same sheets, too.” I pause, letting my eyes fall back to the table as a faint smile creeps across my face, “He’s such a psycho, he probably hasn’t even washed them since.” I glance to the side, “He’s sentimental like that. He likes to keep things that are special to him…”
I want to vomit with each and every word and I have to smile to mask the loathing. I hear my voice, but I can’t believe this filth is coming out of my mouth, and not the good kind, either. But by the look Valerie’s giving me, I wouldn’t be surprised if she thinks I’m about to rub one out under the table. Her eyes are soft and her mouth relaxed, but the veins pop along her golden neck like the strings of a harp. And I’m playing a solo just for her.
“Sometimes I wonder what I’d do if I saw him—if he found me again. I know he’d try to convince me to come back to him,” I shoot her a devious grin, “and it would be fun to let him try…”
Valerie’s fidgeting like she has a nervous tick. Maybe she does. One of my friends in high school, Jimmy Leach, had Tourette’s Syndrome and sometimes his tics were so bad during Algebra exams that he’d accidentally punch me in the arm.
I give my head a shake and my eyes brighten again as I shift my train of thought, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” I laugh, “maybe because I don’t know you that well, yet. It’s weird how the less you know someone, the easier it is to tell them anything. Anyway,” I laugh, “I’m saying a lot of words. I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”
