Chapter Sixteen

It's been two days since Steven attacked me and the body is just now getting pulled out of the lake.

I didn't call it into the police station when it happened so someone else must have. I would have had to explain to Jake what happened and who would believe that Steven stabbed me, but I have no wound to prove it?

I'd look guilty or at least be a suspect, so I kept my mouth shut.

I know Rhett saved me. He fed me his blood. He changed my clothes. He put me to bed.

And I know he tasted me again.

Yet, he hasn't been around. The voice in my head is gone for the time being and now I can't help but wonder if I truly imagined it all. Did Steven really stab me? Did I almost die? Did I see Rhett for the first time?

It all seems like a dream and all of my doubts are clouding it.

It's why I'm on the front lawn. I've ripped up all the weeds and now I'm planting snapdragons in every single color. For the most part, they will take up most of my yard. They were delivered an hour ago and planting them seems like a stepping stone for me.

They bring me hope when I can't seem to find any.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead with my arm, staring up at the hot sun. I can't remember the last time a day went by when it didn't rain. My knees are wet though from kneeling on the ground, the soil still wet from the storms coming and going every day.

And you know what's in my yard again?

The gargoyle.

I swear, his pose is different. His head is down, his wings wrapped around him, and I think there might be a tear running down his cheek. He looks sad.

"I know you're real," I tell him, digging into the ground with more force than necessary. "I don't know why you're doing this but I'm not stupid and I don't appreciate you making me feel stupid." I stand, wiping dirt from my knees. "And you know, I really dislike that you think I don't notice anything different with my body. I have new marks, my old scars have faded, and every time I look at you, I get this feeling. It's a rush, a warmth, and a need. Yet you hide from me. You are always hiding from me, but I saw you. You saved me." I march up to him and cup his perfectly sculpted face. "You can hide from me all you want. I'll find you every time."

I expect him to move, to explain himself, to answer me, but he stays still.

I let out a long breath before backing away. I'm talking to a statue in hopes he will respond. If anyone were to see me, they would think I'm crazy.

It might be time for me to accept who I am.

I pick up a bottle of water and chug it before getting back to work. There are so many different types of my favorite flower and I arrange them up so that not one area is ever the same.

Rocket snapdragons grow tall, so I mixed them with Tahiti snaps which grow to eight inches. Black Prince, Sonnet, Madame Butterfly, La Bella, and Chandelier Snapdragons are planted too. My entire yard is full of flowers, and I can't wait to see them in full bloom.

My favorite is the Night and Day Snapdragons. The petals are a deep red, nearly black, and the body is white. They can get as tall as eighteen inches and can grow more than a foot wide.

"Excuse me?"

I scream, holding a hand to my chest when I see the mailman.

"I didn't mean to scare you. I have a package for a Mickey Bloom?"

I stand again, wiping my palms on my shorts. "That's me. Do I need to sign for anything?"

"No, you're all set." He looks around, taking in the scenery. "The place looks great. It's really coming together."

I smile, tucking the envelope under my arm. "Thank you so much. I've put in a lot of work. I'm glad someone noticed."

"Hard not to." He has a flirtatious grin on his face. "You know, I've been by a few times and—"

The sound of concrete grinding makes him pause to look over my shoulder.

"—And I was hoping I could take you out sometime."

The concrete grinds again, interrupting my conversation. I glance over my shoulder and now the statue has turned his head to the side, his eyes peering over at us from above his wing.

I think, he moved.

The familiar fear wraps around my insides, tightening like a snake wrapping itself around me. Nervousness begins to set in, wondering how long it will be before this man I don't know is angry. "I'm not really dating. I wouldn't want to waste your time. It's not that you aren't handsome or anything—"

"—You don't have to explain why you aren't ready for something. A no is a no. No explanation is needed. I'm happy to just deliver you mail or be a friend." He holds out his hand from behind the fence. "I'm Nicolas, friends call me Nikki."

My chin tilts to my chest as I stare at the hand. Too many thoughts are running through my head. If I take it, will Nicolas only shake it? Why am I imagining him forcefully pulling me closer and yanking me over the fence? What if this is his way of manipulating me just so he can toss me in the mail truck? He'll probably take me to a location where no one can find me.

"I'm not trying to be rude. I don't like to be touched," I say, holding out my knuckles instead.

He grins, fisting his hand to give my knuckles an easy, pressureless tap. "Thanks." A cute dimple shows up on the left side of his face.

"For? I'm the one being rude."

He shakes his head, tucking his scanner in his pocket. "No way. You found a way to meet someone today within your boundaries. I respect that. I have to go. Mail won't deliver itself."

I lift the envelope in the air to wave goodbye and he lifts a peace sign in return before driving away.

"I'm making progress," I say to myself and do a little celebratory dance. I swing my hips in a circle, sticking my tongue out, and smack the statue with the envelope. "Don't think I didn't hear you get curious. I heard. Sounds like someone is jealous."

I don't bother to see if he reacts. At this point, I'm only feeding my delusion and I'm oddly okay with it.

"Let's see what's in the mail, shall we?" I rip the package open and frown when I see a small piece of paper fall to the ground at my feet. I bend down, picking up the square post-it size paper.

Stupid Girl.

The note drifts from my hand, floating through the air only to get caught in the tall grass.

He knows where I live.

I press a hand against my stomach. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. The snapdragons I just planted wither and die in front of me, the skull-like flowers maniacally laughing at my terror.

"Not real. Not real. Not real." I press my palms against my eyes and take a deep breath.

I dash inside the house and open the security system box on the wall. With a scan of my finger, the door slams shut, the powerful locks groan into place, the windows beep, and I press my sweaty forehead against the wall.

"Breathe. Just breathe. You're okay. You're better than you were now. You're stronger. He can't hurt you anymore. You'll fight. You won't let him win." I tell myself the same pick-me-up mantra to help me settle.

My fingernails dig into the drywall, scraping against it as I drag them down to make a fist.

The phone vibrates in my back pocket, startling me out of my process. I don't bother looking at the screen. The only people who call me are Jake, Milo, and Minnie.

"Hey," I answer, waiting for Milo's happy greeting.

A tick of silence follows.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

The static of heavy breathing has me double-checking that my door is locked.

"This isn't funny. Don't call me again." I hang up, my nerves rattled from the note and Rhett.

Rhett being real plagues more than anything right now. I miss him. His presence always made me feel safe. If he is only a voice, a hallucination, then where is he? Why can't he be here now? Why is my mind so broken?

The phone vibrates again. Unknown number flashes across the screen. Angrily, I press my finger against the ignore button.

My phone vibrates again.

I sit on the couch, holding the phone in my hands, debating if I should answer. No, I won't give them the satisfaction. I hit ignore again, toss my phone to the side, and turn on the TV.

My phone rings again.

"What? What the fuck do you want?" I shout answering it, proving all my anger.

"Woah, hey, what's going on, Mick?" Milo's voice is soft with a hint of concern.

I flop back, sinking into the oversized couch cushion, and groan, tossing my arm over my eyes. "Milo. Thank God it's you. Someone keeps prank-dialing me and it got under my skin."

He's quiet for a moment. "You're sure it was a prank call?"

The note comes to mind. It's on the tip of my tongue to tell him Ty has found me, that he knows where I'm at, and it was probably him on the other end of the call.

I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to admit my worst nightmare is still haunting me.

"I don't think it was him. Really. I'm going stir-crazy. I think I need to go back to work, Milo."

"I don't know. I understand, Mick, I do, but we can't put Demi's business at risk like that. She'd never say that. She'd agree to give you hours, but imagine if Ty found out? What he could do?"

"Creed wouldn't allow it."

"Creed is dark and fucking twisted, but not even he can save everyone, Mick."

"Demi is lucky to have someone like Creed."

"Way to switch topics."

"I just mean, it must be nice to have that sense of security. If Ty did enter the diner, I have no doubt Creed would do something about it."

"But it wouldn't be for you. It would be for Demi. He doesn't do anything for anyone unless it is for Demi. He is an asshole. Did you know he burned my customer's order? I don't know how he managed to turn it to a crisp as I was walking to their table, but he did. He said it was because he didn't like that they didn't say hello to Demi when they entered the diner." He raises his voice. "Because they didn't say hello!"

I giggle, liking how intense Creed is for Demi.

"That guy is off his damn rocker."

"Yeah, but he means well."

"No, no, he doesn't. And his son? It's like having a feral cat running around the diner. It needs its damn shots."

"Milo!" I toss my hand over my mouth and laugh. "That's terrible."

"When I walk, he bites my ankles, Mick! I have bite marks on my damn legs, and you know what Creed says? It's cause his son is teething. Please. What a joke."

I cover my face with a pillow to smother how loud my laugh is.

"Yeah, it's funny now. Wait until you come back. You'll see."

"Or maybe I'll leave," I whisper, playing with the frayed edge of my shorts. "Maybe I should run."

"What are you talking about? You aren't running. We are done with that."

I let the idea play in my head liking it more and more. I won't admit it to Milo. It's best he doesn't know. "You're right. When will I see you and Minnie again? I miss you guys."

"We miss you too. Minnie is sick so you won't see her leaving the bed. I'm beat. I'm picking up double shifts."

"But why? Don't you still have some insurance money? Why kill yourself working?"

"Because money always runs out, Mick. I won't be foolish, and I won't ever think I'm good enough not to work."

"I understand. I just worry about you. You're working so much, and the diner is picking up. It's packed nearly every night."

"I'm fine. It's you who I'm worried about."

I'm so close to telling him about the note. He'd call Jake. Jake would come here with more questions than answers. I'd be left exactly where I am now except with more people worrying about me.

And I'm so sick of people worrying about me.

"I know. I'm fine. I have to go. When are you planning to stop by next?" So I can plan my escape and disappear where no one can find me.

"Tomorrow. Promise."

"Okay. Sounds good. I love you."

"I love you too. And hey—"

"—Yeah?"

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right? You'd be honest with me."

I pick at the string hanging from my shorts again and stare at the plant in the corner that's in dire need of water.

"I'd be honest," I lie.

I'm not proud of it. There comes a point where I have to protect the peace of those around me.

"Okay, good. This weekend, movie night?"

"Sounds perfect." I clear my throat when my eyes begin to water, my plan stitching itself together.

I'll leave the house to Milo and Minnie. I'll drive as far away as possible, the farthest point on the map in the country, and I'll throw my phone away. I'll change my name and my hair, and only work jobs that pay under the counter.

I'll live the rest of my life hiding if it means my family has peace.

"I love you. I'll talk to you later."

"I love you too."

I hang up before I can spill my soul to Milo. He's good at digging his claws into someone's soul and forcing them to say what's been weighing on their mind. He's a truth seeker and hiding it from him reminds me just how broken I am.

I turn on the TV and flip the channels. Finding nothing on, I toss the remote to the side and stand, not bothering to look at what is on. I'm three steps from the kitchen when I hear something I couldn't have.

Spinning around, I hit the button on the remote that takes me back a few seconds, then press play.

A man is standing outside a mechanic shop with his hands on his hips. In big retro font, it says, "Royals' Garage." He's wearing a black hat that says, "Rescue Rhett" across the front with a phone number underneath.

My fingers move fast, pressing the volume button as high as it will go.

"I'm looking for my friend Rhett Royals. He used to own this garage."

I take a step forward, wishing I could get closer and step through the screen to talk to this man.

"We won't stop looking for you, Rhett. If anyone has any information, please call this number on the screen."

I believe in coincidences, and I doubt it's the same Rhett.

"Just ask for Fitz. You'll talk to me and give me all the information. Here is his photo." He points to the left-hand side of the screen, and a picture comes of a man looking under the hood of a truck.

His head is turned to the camera, a big smile stretched across his face.

This Rhett is different.

I pause the screen, staring at the man I've seen— I think I've seen. It's impossible. It— it can't be. This Rhett is normal, no wings, no claws, no split pupils, no scales, nothing out of the ordinary.

Yet there are similarities that can't be ignored.

His hair is blonde but it's shorter in the picture. It has a shag to it, and the ends flip out as if it's been too long since he's had a trim. His jaw is square still, the cheekbones arched and defined. There's the same intensity in his eyes, a determination I've only ever seen in him.

Now, his hair has grown out to his shoulders, from what I remember when I was dying.

He's so different now but I know this is the same man somehow.

Something horrible happened to Rhett Royals.

My Rhett.

My monster.

My ghost.

And I plan to find out what it is.

I dial the number flashing across the bottom of the screen.

"Rescue Rhett. This is Fitz. How can you help me find my friend?" he answers immediately. It sounds like he has said it a thousand times.

"Hi," my voice croaks and I press my hand against my neck while clearing my throat. "Listen—" I start to pace my living room. "—I can't promise I've seen him, but I think I have?" I can't tell this guy that his friend looks like a monster now with wings and I'm positive he has fed me his blood.

Fitz, this amazing person searching for his friend, would have to be in a straitjacket. I wouldn't blame him. I don't think I can even say it out loud without wanting to commit myself.

"He looks familiar to someone I've seen around…" my personal space.

I can't say that either.

"Town."

"Where are you? I'll scope the place out. Is he okay? The person you saw?"

I roll my lips together, thinking about how to word this. "No, I don't think he is. I think he's been through a lot."

"Tell me where you are. I'll be there as soon as possible."

I might be making a mistake. I could be wrong. I could be giving this man hope for no reason.

Staring at the picture again on TV, I know it's for a reason.

The voice in my head is real, and somehow, the man on the screen is the same beast I've been dreaming about.

And I won't rest until I prove it to myself.