Chapter 39: Three Weeks Later

My heart thuds,growing louder with every step I take. My breathing turns shallower, the ache in my chest throbbing.

But I have to do this. I have to go to Karen's dorm room. I have to stop avoiding it. It's what the therapist recommended.

My legs are as heavy as bricks, shivers running up my spine as I grow nearer. One more step and…

A sob breaks free, and I cup my mouth when I'm in front of her door.

The photos and ribbons are still here. So many, I'm overwhelmed by it all. But through the tears, I somehow smile, tracing a photo of her, me, and someone else making silly faces.

"I miss you," I whisper as my fingers reach for another photo, my vision murky from the overwhelming emotions pounding within me.

I went past Professor Montgomery's old office too, now with someone new working there. I didn't take the class, though. I couldn't. Maybe next semester, I'll be ready for that again.

My hand reaches for another photo, and as it does, I push the door open on accident.

"Hi there," a woman in black pants and a red blouse says, collecting Karen's things in a simple brown box. "Are you the next of kin?"

"Ugh, what?" I stride in, and a swell of painful emotions wage war inside my heart.

Memories flood my mind like a stampede of wild horses, endlessly galloping while I lie there on the ground.

It's her I see. Her smile. Us getting ready for the club. Her doing my makeup. Studying together. It's all there, weighing me down.

I swallow down the lump in my throat and face this woman, whoever she is.

"Did you hear me?" She smiles kindly, narrowing her brows. "I'm Stella from admissions. We've been trying to reach Karen's family to collect her belongings, but no one has gotten back to us. I'm hoping you're related and that's why you're here?"

"Uh, yes." I nod. "I'm her cousin. Her mom died, and her dad… He, uh, passed away a while ago."

"Oh, wow. How tragic." She blows a breath. "I'm truly sorry for your loss. I'm so glad we didn't have to throw her things away. Now that you're here, you can go through it all and see what you want to keep. I'll give you some time alone, okay? I'll be back in twenty. Does that work?"

She places a pink journal in the box and starts toward me.

"That's good. Thanks."

She purses her lips and brushes past me, closing the door behind her.

I stay rooted in place, afraid to advance forward, like something in that box will hurt me more. But I can't fear the memories any longer. I have to cling to the good ones, or what happened, her betrayal, will eat away at me until I rot.

Taking a long, deep breath, I gather the strength to reach the box and peek inside. Picture frames, books, notebooks lie there abandoned.

I glance at the closet, wondering if her clothes are still inside it. They must be. I should take them, or the school will just throw them out.

Grabbing the box, I settle on the bare mattress, picking up the journal, wanting to see the photos of us.

But as I place the journal on my lap, it opens, and my heart almost stops when I see the first two words.

Dear Eriu,

I slam the journal shut, my inhales and exhales battling for space. There's no way I can read whatever she wrote. No way I can make it through without crying. Without my heart completely breaking.

Why would she write something to me in a journal I've never seen before? Why wouldn't she just show it to me when she was alive?

It makes no sense.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I find myself opening it back up, and when I read her words, I wish I hadn't. Because it hurts more than I even imagined.

Dear Eriu,

If you found this, it means I'm probably gone. Hopefully not dead, because that would be a complete bummer. I'm hoping I'm on a beach somewhere, sipping a margarita, missing you, wishing I was able to tell you everything.

I don't even know why I'm writing this. The chances of you even reading this letter, in my private journal that I hide behind my bed, are very slim. I'm clever, I know. But on the off chance that you are reading it, I just need you to know that I'm sorry.

I haven't been honest with you since we met. I've been lying. Carrying too many secrets I've been forced to keep by my mother. Every time you talk about her, I want to scream. Or slam a fist into the wall and imagine it's her face. Because she's the reason I'm hurting you without you even knowing.

But see, I consider you my friend, no matter what she thinks. I'd do anything for you, even when she tells me what a weak, pathetic girl I am for letting you into my heart. But how can I not? You're an amazing person, Eriu. Even she has to see that.

I'm sure you're confused. Or maybe not. Maybe you somehow discovered my deception and are sitting there crying while reading this letter thinking what a terrible person I am.

And I won't dispute that. I am a terrible person. If I was a good person, I'd have told you the truth a long time ago. But I'm a coward. Yep, me. A coward.

If I was brave, I'd have told you what my mother makes me do. How much she hates Devlin and is using you to hurt him. I'd never let her do anything to you, though. I swear. But she has so many people behind her, and my word has always meant very little. You know her as Professor Montgomery, but I call her Mom. Or Satan. She responds to either.

Before I met you, I had no friends. I mean, the people at school don't know me. Not really, not the way you do.

I know you're probably thinking, "I don't know you either." But you do, Eriu. With you, I am myself, more than I have ever been, and I need you to know that. I need you to know that I love you and I'm sorry. I wish I could've done things differently. But I was afraid. And now I've lost the one person who mattered to me most.

Please forgive me. I know it's a lot to ask, but it's the one thing that would mean the world to me.

Maybe not today or tomorrow. But someday I hope you can look back on our friendship and realize everything I've said here is true.

Love,

Karen

As I clutch the letter against my chest, a sob wrenches out of me, cracking through my bones, sinking into my marrow.

I'll never get to see her again. Tell her that I understand. This is all I'll have of her: a ghost of what was. And no amount of wishing will ever bring her back again.

ONE WEEK LATER

Thorny vines pierce my skin. Deep red roses were her favorite. Devlin spared no expense to ensure Karen got the kind of burial she deserved. I place the flowers by her headstone and sit across the grass to face it.

Karen Lucia Palmer

The school didn't have her real last name. Her mother made sure it was forged on the paperwork, so it's why Devlin never caught on.

This is the first time I've come to visit her. The first time I've truly felt ready to say goodbye. To say I'm sorry. That I forgive her.

And I do forgive her now.

With time and therapy, I've come to accept that she was two different people, yet still somehow the Karen I loved.

She begged her mother not to kill me. She didn't want me to die. That means something.

I no longer hold any hate toward her. And that in itself is freeing.

I keep her journal with me, and the photo of us that she had in her room is now in the foyer of the apartment I share with Devlin.

I decided to donate her clothes to Helping Hand so that they could be passed on to those who might need them. Karen would've loved that.

"School isn't the same without you," I tell her, playing with the sleeve of my sweater. "I miss you so much. Every time I go to lunch, I see you sitting across from me, checking out the boys from the swim team." I choke up a teary laugh. "I wish you were here. I wish I could just hug you one more time." Tears lie trapped in my lower lashes. "I'm sorry for everything you had to live with. I know it wasn't easy to deal with your mom. Please know I forgive you. And I will never forget you."

I stay there telling her about my classes, about the editing internship I recently got with a publishing house in the city. I know she'd be proud of me. I can feel it.

Life is just unfair sometimes.

Wiping under my eyes, I start toward Devlin, who waits patiently a few feet away.

"You ready to go?" he asks.

"Yeah." I look up at my husband and smile, grabbing his hand and bringing his knuckles to my mouth. "I think I am."

SIX MONTHS LATER

Devlin and I remained in the city. We love it here and have no plans to leave. We've talked about the future and what happens when I'm done with school, and we've considered eventually moving to Long Island so I can be closer to Iseult. But that's years away, so for now, we're enjoying ourselves here.

Therapy has done wonders, and I no longer need it. I'm glad I listened to Iseult, and she sure likes to remind me of that.

I stare up at my husband, his eyes scanning my body as I lie there on our bed in nothing but his t-shirt while he starts undoing the buttons of his cuffs, his knuckles bloody.

I don't have to ask why they are. I know what he does for my family.

"You stay right there until I'm done with the shower." There's a warning glint in his eyes, his arousal thick in the air.

He frees his shirt from his body and lets it fall on the floor, undoing his belt next, then his slacks, his rough, manly hands doing things to me.

My knees press into one another, my eyes drowning over him, body tight with desire.

"Better hurry, then, or I might decide to do something about it." I run my hand between my thighs.

"Bloody hell, woman. You keep those fingers away from that pussy until I return."

"Or what?" I spread my thighs and flick my clit.

He grunts deep in his chest, fisting his cock as he strokes it. "Or I'll punish you, and I promise you won't like it."

"I've always loved your punishments." My mouth curls.

"Bloody hell, if I wasn't this dirty, I'd be inside you right now."

My face flushes, nipples pebbling beneath the thin cotton. With a curse, he rushes for the master bath and shuts the door, the water pounding.

A laugh escapes me, and I give him a few minutes alone before I'm off the bed, heading into the steamy bathroom.

Through the glass door, his eyes snap to mine, holding me still in the bright embers of his gaze. Slowly, he opens it, his long strands dripping down his face. He doesn't say anything, but his expression hardens when my hands grip the edge of my shirt, his eyes following my movements.

I pull the t-shirt off and toss it at my feet, his gaze feasting on my every curve.

As I strut forward, his fist wraps around his cock, and he strokes it slow, groaning as I make it closer.

"Come here, love. Let me get you all dirty."

The possessiveness, the desire slinking in the dark timbre of his tone, has my body wanting his. He grabs my hand and tugs me into the shower, shutting the door behind us.

And in an instant, he slams his lips to mine and kisses me ruthlessly, backing me up against the cold tiles, lifting up one of my legs as his mouth rolls down my jaw, my neck.

The sounds we make, the way our bodies move together… It's erotic and blissful and freeing to love him the way I do.

His other hand falls across my throat, fingers winding around it as his kisses grow more insistent. Full lips tug and bite on mine, madness rivaling violent urgency. He sets me aflame, like he has from the moment I wanted to be his forever.

Now it feels like we have it all. A life I once only dreamed of.

He backs off enough to look at me, and I see it there in his eyes, the same feelings filling up my heart.

He lowers a hand between us, stroking between my thighs, sinking two fingers inside me, watching me as I groan. Removing them, he grabs his cock and positions it at my entrance, the crown sinking deeper as he stretches me.

"I look at you…" he says. "And I don't know what I ever did to deserve you."

"I've always been yours, Devlin McHale." I stroke the stubble of his jaw with the back of my hand. "It just took you some time to see it."

He growls, thrusting all the way inside me, capturing my lips and my heart at the same time.

And together we fall, because together, we can do anything.

THE END