My eyes narrowed into slits when I looked back at him. How was he able to make light of something so serious? Had William’s hand connected with my skin for another heartbeat or two, Patrick and I would be having a very different conversation.
“Sensitive, are we?” he said, raising his hands.
“You should be resting,” I said, changing the subject.
He snorted. “Sleep is for the weak. Besides, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you’re up to.”
I looked down, not able to look him in the eyes. “I’m leaving,” I mouthed, not making a sound.
“I’m not a lip-reader. You’re going to have to repeat that for me,” he said, taking a couple steps forward. “Perhaps turn it up a notch or two—”
“I’m leaving,” I interrupted, shifting my eyes to his.
“Where are you going?” he asked, not understanding.
I filled my lungs. “I’m leaving, Patrick. Away from here, for good.”
His eyebrows came together and he looked as if he hadn’t understood the words that had just come out of my mouth. A few more seconds went by, where I was both waiting and dreading for the realization of what I’d meant to click.
Another second ticked off and I saw it register on Patrick’s face. The curl of confusion in his eyebrows ironed out before they took a sharp slant downward and his eyes filled with ice. I repressed a shudder.
“You are not leaving,” he seethed through his teeth. “Not after everything he’s been through. Not if it’s up to me.”
“It’s not up to you,” I said, feeling lower than pond scum from the look he was giving me.
“Then why?’ he asked, his voice elevating. “Why now?”
“Because now is better than later, Patrick.” I knew each day I stayed with William, I risked his life. As it was, I’d waited too long to do this.
“You’re a coward,” he whispered, although the words entered me as if screamed. “I know why you’re doing this and you’re a coward for taking the easy way out.”
“There is no easy way out,” I argued. “Don’t you get it?”
“You’re a coward,” he repeated, annunciating every syllable. “Don’t you do this to him, Bryn. Don’t you hurt him,” he begged, sounding like the little brother he was, concerned first and foremost for the older brother he idolized.
“If I don’t go, I’ll only hurt him again. Could do so much worse than hurt him . . .”
“You listen to me—listen to me right now.” He lunged forward and grasped my arms. “I’m only going to say this once, so you better listen and listen good.” His fingers squeezed into my flesh with such strength I felt pain. He looked at me, his eyes pleading. “You can survive alone or you can live together. I know which option William would chose—has chosen,” he said, shaking me as if he wished he could shake some sense into me. “You have to make your choice.”
“I already have,” I whispered, turning away, hoping he’d leave me alone with the repercussions of my impossible decision.
“Coward,” he repeated, crossing his arms.
“Good-bye, Patrick,” I said over my shoulder, using three feeble words when I had at least a million I needed to say to him.
He cleared his throat and I heard a chord of popping—most likely the knuckles he had the habit of cracking whenever he was trying to diffuse stress. “Which way are you heading? I’ll give you a lift.”
I shook my head, Patrick’s offer dousing lemon on my gaping wound. “You don’t have to do that,” I said, not exactly looking forward to the journey on foot to my destination, but looking forward even less to being stuffed in a confined space with Patrick.
I needed a clean break—the sooner the better.
“I’m not doing it for you,” he said, the spite back in his tone, as he headed towards the garage. “I’m doing it for William.”
His back was to me, so he couldn’t have seen my confusion, but knowing me well enough, he explained, “Despite him waking up in a few days only to wish he hadn’t, he’ll still want to know you arrived safely to wherever the hell you have in mind.”
He disappeared into the garage and a moment later I heard an engine come to life—an engine I could have recognized in a chorus of a thousand others. Headlights came at me and despite Patrick’s likely wish given my actions, William’s vintage Bronco skidded to a stop an inch from me.
“Get in,” Patrick instructed, sticking his head out the window and raising his eyebrows in a way that let me know it wasn’t open for discussion.
“Can’t we take your car?” I asked, referring to the seven figure speedster I’d re-gifted to him as a thank you for saving me from John Townsend. He loved the Maserati and took every opportunity to drive it, even to the mailbox less than a mile down the road. Why couldn’t he drive it now? Although I’m sure it had something to do with torturing me.
“Don’t have the keys on me,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.
“How about my car?” I asked, knowing it would be the last time I’d see it. That was one companion, inanimate as it was, I’d forgotten to say good-bye to.
Patrick cringed. “I don’t drive Chevys. Ever. Cardinal rule of mine.” I was in the middle of rolling my eyes when he rested his hand over the car-horn. “Do you want me to wake my father?”
He knew how to get my attention. I jogged around the front and climbed in the cab, careful not to take a breath, knowing William’s scent permeated every inch of leather and scrap of metal.
I felt the leather slide beneath my legs and the memory of the last time William and I had been in the Bronco entered my consciousness. The leather had been heated and sticky from the friction of warmed skin sliding over it. I swallowed and closed my eyes, trying to shake the memory away. I thought I heard Patrick let out a hint of a chuckle.
“Where to?” he asked, not sounding like he cared one bit, before slamming the accelerator down.
My back slammed against the bench seat and I’m pretty sure I felt my brains crash against my skull from the sudden momentum. “The airport.”
“Of course,” he said, “the favored escape for cowards everywhere.”
I glared through the windshield while my body bounced to the beat of the potholes that lined the Hayward’s driveway, trying not to think about everything I was leaving behind.
It didn’t work.
CHAPTER SIX
LIES
“Could you please turn that off?” I asked, not masking my voice.
“This is my favorite song,” Patrick replied, sounding happy with himself. “You got something against a little classic rock and roll?” I refused to look at him, but I could tell from his tone his eyes were pulled tight, as was his smile.
“Fine,” I said, slamming my index finger against the on/off switch of the Bronco’s CD player. “I’ll do it myself.”
“You’re touchy tonight,” he said, but didn’t turn the CD player back on. His intended effect had worked anyways; William’s favorite CD brought back an avalanche of memories, from him singing at the top of his lungs, to the ones where his mouth had been incapacitated from singing by my lips.
Patrick let out a sharp laugh. “Actually, you’ve been touchy all day. William’s clammy body is testament to that. Although I don’t think it’s the general ‘touchy’ he so enjoys.”
I wanted to say—yell, actually—so many things, but I didn’t because I knew I deserved every cheap shot Patrick took at me. He wasn’t dishing out anything I hadn’t earned.
The lights of the Missoula International Airport came in view, the red, green, and white lights beckoning me, promising to take me to a place far away from here, swearing my life would never be the same, warning me there was no going back.
I retracted my arm from where it’d hung out the passenger window the past couple hours, my hand soaking up the Montana air so I could take it with me wherever I went.
Patrick screeched the Bronco to a stop in front of the passenger drop-off, drawing the attention of a few attendants.
He turned in his seat and hooked an arm over the steering wheel, a sly smile covering his face. “Could you look in the glove box for me? I forgot my cell phone back home and I think William leaves a spare in it.”
I did as asked, not having the energy to question why he wanted to make a call, but I figured it probably had something to do with me. It didn’t matter, though. I’d be gone soon, exiled from Montana for the rest of my eternity.
A few maps fanned out as I sorted through the glove box, fingering around for a phone, when something popped out and fell at my feet. My heart sank and broke at the same time when I took a closer look at the item that had fallen out. The square box was small, covered in black velvet, and closed shut by a delicate silver clasp. I knew what it was a moment before I felt Patrick do an internal dance of wicked joy.
“Hopefully it’s returnable,” he said, as if he was referring to nothing more significant than a bag of potato chips.
My fingers shook when I reached for the box. When they wrapped around it, I thought I felt my soul shattering. Knowing I didn’t deserve to see, let alone wear, William’s promise of his faithfulness to me, I tossed it back in the glove box as if playing hot potato and slammed it shut.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, pausing before retrieving my backpack from the backseat. “Thanks for everything.” Not knowing what else to say, but knowing there was so much more I should, I swung the door open.
“Okay, you can stop the act now,” Patrick said, grabbing my shoulder and pulling my back down on the seat.
“What act?” I asked, trying to shake loose his hand.
“Oh, come on, Bryn. I know you better than you might think and I know you’re only doing this because you’re scared you’re going to end up killing him the next time he comes in contact with the radioactive woman.” His eyes gleamed and his smile was genuine—he really thought this was all some joke.
“It’s not an act,” I said, attempting again to exit the cab. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
His hand, yet again, stalled my retreat. “You’re not fooling—”
“There’s somebody else, okay?!” I snapped, straining my neck back so I could look him in the eye. “This isn’t just about me possibly killing him.” I tried to swallow, but my throat felt like it was packed with cotton.
The expression that darkened Patrick’s face was one I’d never seen on him, I’d never seen on anyone. It was one of hatred—the pure, unabashed kind. His hand tore off my shoulder as if my skin was burning him. an aYou’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he whispered, spewing his hate through his teeth. “I was wrong about you all along. You don’t deserve him.”
This, I’d always known.
“Get out of my sight,” he said, motioning me away with his hand. “You disgust me.”