Chapter Thirty-Three Aria

Chapter Thirty-Three

Aria

Hot water pounded against my skin, close to scalding, where I stood beneath the spray with my face tilted toward the steamy fall. I was hoping it might erase the need that blistered through my body. Burn it away. Eradicate the ache that consumed—body and soul.

I wanted to know his touch so badly that I felt it as a hollow cavern carved out in the middle of me. An empty space that throbbed and moaned and begged. A match to the pulse of my spirit.

Because I wanted him everywhere, pressing in and taking over. Beneath my fingers and gliding through my veins.

But I also understood. Understood his reservations and why he held on to the fear.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t know with every beat of my heart that what I felt for Pax couldn’t be wrong. How could it when not loving him was an impossibility? There was no piece of me that could ever accept that he could turn against me.

Blowing out a sigh, I used the shampoo that Pax had placed in the shower with the rest of the things we’d picked up at the store.

I let the coconut-and-pineapple scent invade as I envisioned the foolish fantasy I’d allowed myself yesterday when we were walking the aisles of the store.

Pax and I on some deserted beach, our toes in the sand, with cool water lapping up the shore. A breeze wisping against our faces. Our fingers twined where we rested together.

It would be a place only meant for us. Where nobody knew us. Where nobody could find us. Where our dreams didn’t carry us away, but instead, we slept soundly in the safety of each other’s arms.

My daydreams were ones of simplicity.

But I didn’t get that—simplicity or safety or sanctuary.

An intonation of my father’s voice flashed through my mind, distant and faraway, dust that gathered on the horizon before it blew away.

It’s her fault Aria escaped.

My chest squeezed with terror. A dread that clamored through my senses. Talons that sank into my spirit in a gutting awareness.

Because of me, my mother might not have any of those things, either.

Safety or sanctuary.

She was in danger.

I could feel it. I could feel it penetrating all the way to my soul.

I hadn’t been able to bring myself to confess it to Pax this morning, unsure of how to handle it or process what it meant—or more, what I would have to do.

I couldn’t just turn my back on them and pretend as if I didn’t know.

My spirit sagged, burdened with so much. With the hazards that came from every direction.

I hissed when I pried off the bandage Pax had placed over the fresh wound in the middle of my chest yesterday.

It was a wound that shouldn’t be possible.

A scar that I was sure would go deeper than any other had before.

A new question that marked me in doubt.

How had I sustained it? How was it feasible?

The memory of the woman and her child sparked in the spiral of my thoughts.

They were worth it. They were worth it.

I carefully cleaned the wound, dabbing the cloth against the oozing flesh. The blood that I wiped came away in black, charred clumps.

I rinsed, then stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel.

I eased out of the bathroom, almost wary to meet Pax’s fierce gaze after what had happened between us earlier. But I wouldn’t regret it. I would never regret confessing my love for him when it was my truth. I didn’t think that I had it wrong when I said it was his, too.

His attention was hesitant from where he stood across the room, digging through his duffel bag, and he roughed a hand over his face the way he did when he was agitated. Then he dropped it like a brick to his side before he suddenly strode across the floor.

Heat shocked through me when he gripped me by both sides of my face, his hold so intense that it burst through me in a shock wave of light.

“Don’t you dare ever think you’re not everything, Aria. I need you to know that. I need you to know that every fucking thing I do, I’m doing it for you.”

My eyes flitted over his expression. Tension was drawn deep in the lines of his face. I had the overwhelming urge to pick up a charcoal pencil and draw him like that. To trace his shadows. To capture his demons.

I stroked my thumb over the lines carved in his harsh brow. “I know, Pax. I know.”

His throat bobbed when he swallowed; then he stepped back, tearing himself away. “We should get moving. Get you something to eat.”

I nodded. “Okay. Let me get dressed really quick.”

His own nod was clipped, and he slunk around me and moved into the bathroom, locking it behind him.

There was no missing the sharp exhale he released, the creak of the door as he leaned against it. No defying the energy that pulled and lapped, the need that wept like its own entity.

I moved across the room and picked up the duffel bag Pax had bought for me in Pennsylvania. Looking at it almost made me smile. That morning felt like a lifetime ago, when only mere days had passed. My time was speeding away.

The only regret I had was that Pax was in the bathroom, trying to rein himself in rather than being tangled in me.

I dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweater, dried my hair, and brushed my teeth, then packed the rest of my things.

A moment later, Pax emerged, and he moved to the sink, ran his fingers under water before he drove them through his hair, before he began to brush his teeth.

I watched him through the mirror as he did.

Awareness moved between us.

Thick and sticky.

Pax finished getting ready and packed his things, then grabbed our bags. “There’s a fast-food place across the street. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that works.”

He cracked open the door.

I swore I felt an ice-slick of depravity blow in with the frigid breeze as Pax peered out.

When he was satisfied it was clear, I followed him out onto the walkway that ran the length of the upstairs of the motel, retracing the footsteps where he’d carried me in yesterday when I’d been too weak to stand.

The sky was clear, the same as it had been yesterday, but there was something forbiddingly cold that curled through the air.

I trailed Pax down the stairs.

His muscles bunched and flexed beneath the white T-shirt he wore, as if he were immune to the icy blast that whipped over my skin.

He tossed our things into the back of his car before he set his hand on the small of my back and began to guide me toward the restaurant.

“Are you good?” he asked. No doubt, he was picking up on the anxiety that had taken siege the second we’d stepped out.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Except nothing felt fine.

Everything suddenly felt off.

A new dread kept spearing through my mind.

I couldn’t get the image of my father’s hand cracking across my mother’s face out of my head. It’d been so distant and vague in Faydor last night that I’d had to believe it wasn’t real. But I couldn’t shake it. Couldn’t maintain that belief. Not when a sense of foreboding rushed me like a rogue wave.

My attention flitted everywhere, over my surroundings, then at Pax, not sure what to do with my attention or where to place this feeling.

The sense that something was building.

Something dark and ugly that I wasn’t going to be able to escape.

He shifted to take my hand, and there was no stopping the shiver that rolled down my spine at the contact.

His near-white hair thrashed in the winter breeze, the man a gale force that blew through the atmosphere. Skin so pale beneath the shimmering rays of the sun.

That steely gaze cut right and left as we hurried to the burger place that was connected to the same lot as the motel. A big sign hung in the window advertising that they were open early for breakfast.

This area had a different vibe than the other places we’d stayed.

Busier, and the parking lot was nearly full, which I guessed should be expected since we were staying on the edge of the city rather than in a small uncharted town like we’d done every time before.

I kept my face downturned the best I could, trying to keep it concealed, praying no one would recognize me.

A man who was climbing into his pickup truck paused when he saw me and Pax approaching. I felt the weight of it burning into the side of my head as he just ... stared as we walked toward the door.

Pax twitched, and the exposed tattoos on his neck writhed over the scars they covered, as if he felt the force of it, too, and he tightened his hold on my hand. “Stay close to me.”

“I will.”

He swung open the glass door, and we stepped inside the restaurant. Three people were in line in front of us, and another two were loitering off to the side, waiting for their orders to be called. About half the tables were taken by customers.

It felt like every eye in the place swiveled in our direction.

Pax stepped closer to me. “I don’t like this,” he mumbled.

“It’s fine,” I returned beneath my breath. “I think we’re both on edge.”

“I’m not sure there’s any other way to be right now.”

I squeezed his hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

It wasn’t, but I couldn’t help reassuring him.

We got in line. The couple in front of us inched forward, trying to keep as much distance between us and themselves as they could. Unease rippled through their bodies as they cast a glance back.

I could taste their fear as they looked at Pax, at the dangerous, violent beauty that he radiated.

Or maybe what they feared was the chaos that whipped from my being.

When it was our turn to order, we shuffled forward. A young girl worked the register. Sixteen or seventeen. Her smile was kind.

I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, I swore that I was looking at my sister.

Smiling.

Laughing.

Our father’s hand fisted in her hair and yanked hard. Pain and fear bottled her whimper. “Daddy, no.”

A shocked gasp raked up my throat, and when I blinked again, the same young girl I didn’t know stood behind the counter. “Welcome to Jay’s Burgers. What can I get you today?”

My head spun and my knees felt weak.

I was seeing things. The worry was pushing me into paranoia. That was it. That was what it had to be.

“I’ll have a number three with an orange juice,” Pax told her, though he peeked over at me in concern when he felt the disturbance that echoed from my spirit.

“Small, medium, or large?” she asked.

“Large, thank you.”

She turned her attention to me. Warm brown eyes blinked back, and her face was my sister’s again.

Her lips moved but no sound came out.

Help us.

Dizziness rushed, and I had to hold on to the counter to keep from reaching for her, to keep from clambering over it to get to her.

I bit down on my tongue to keep Brianna’s name from sliding from it.

“Um, did you want something?” The girl angled her head, a perplexity furrowed deep into her brow as she waited for me to answer, her face her own again. I attempted to clear my throat when it became apparent that I’d been staring.

“I’ll have the same thing.” I croaked it, barely able to form the words.

“Aria?” Pax’s voice was razor thin. Low and harsh and urgent.

I swallowed around the bile in my throat. “I’m just ... I need to wash my hands.”

I took off toward the restroom.

“Aria.” Panic wheezed through my name when he called out behind me. I didn’t slow. I rushed down the side hall and into the restroom. I went to the sink, turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water on my face, trying to breathe through the tumult that I couldn’t shake.

And I thought maybe I had finally snapped. Lost the sanity my parents had never thought I possessed. I wished it were true. I wished it were that easy.

But I knew.

I knew.

I smacked at the handle of the paper-towel dispenser, then ripped a piece free, my breaths ragged as I pressed it to my face and prayed it would blot out the images that racked my mind.

Behind me, the door swung open, and I whirled, expecting it to be Pax. I figured he wouldn’t let me out of his sight.

I could see that he was out in the hall, peering in at me from behind the woman who came in instead, holding the hand of a little girl with blue eyes. I could feel the war of reservations and resolve spiraling through him, and I knew he was half a second from barging in to find out what was wrong.

“I’ve got to go pee really bad, Mommy,” the little girl said.

“I know, sweetheart.”

The woman led her to the first stall, and the child turned and grinned up at her mother. “I’m a big girl, so I get to do it all by myself.”

Her mother let go of an affectionate laugh. I could feel the love that radiated from her. The solid devotion. “Okay, but let’s get you a seat cover first.”

She helped the little girl get situated, then stepped out and shut the stall door.

She smiled in my direction, though I thought it had to have been the first time that she’d actually looked at me, because she flinched when she met my eyes. Eyes I should have kept hidden, but I wasn’t thinking straight right then.

She fought to keep the kindness on her face as she searched the distress on mine. “Are you okay?” she chanced. Her tone reeked of caution.

I swallowed around the ball of barbed wire in my throat, tamping down some of the desperation but allowing a small amount to remain. “I think I lost my phone, and I was supposed to call my mom and let her know when I finished breakfast and was heading to school. I’m going to get grounded again.”

I wrung my hands together, and the tear that streaked down my cheek was real.

Desperate.

A plea.

Her laugh was soft. “Oh, I remember those days ... And we can’t have your mom being worried about you. I know how I’m going to feel when Cassidy is your age.”

She dug into her back pocket and pulled out her phone. “You can use mine if it will help.”

“Really?”

“Sure, it’s no problem.”

“Thank you so much.”

I tried to keep the anxiety at bay as I all but snatched it from her hand, and I rushed into the farthest stall and shut and locked the door behind me. There were only the three of them in there, but at least it was some kind of barrier.

I could barely control the shaking in my hands when I dialed my mother’s number, and there was no stopping my heart from bashing against my ribs as it rang and rang. Four times before she finally answered.

“Hello?” Her voice was cautious. Suspicious and hopeful.

“Mom.” I tried to keep the sob out of it, but I couldn’t.

“Oh my God, Aria.” It was a wheeze. Torment. Relief. “Are you okay? Please tell me that you’re okay.”

“I’m calling to ask you the same thing.”

The sudden silence was sharp. Acid dumped into my ears. Howls of warning. An omen.

“What do you mean?” It was the smallest whisper from her.

“Are you safe?” I whispered back.

“Is that her?” My father’s voice might have been muted in the background, but I could still tell that it sounded different from normal. A new cruelty woven into the fabric.

“Mom, I want you to get Brianna, Mitch, and Keaton and go stay with Grandma for a while,” I rushed, praying she would hear the urgency in my voice.

“Aria,” she begged, trying to turn it back on me, “tell me where you are.”

“Please, Mom. Just ... trust me. Trust me for once.”

“Cal,” she suddenly cried out through a clattering and a bang, and I knew he’d yanked the phone from her hand.

His voice was cold when it traveled the line. “What lies are you spreading now, Aria?”

Sickness boiled, and vomit climbed my throat. “Dad ... you have to fight the voices. Whatever ruthless, horrible thoughts and urges strike you, you have to fight them. It’s not Mom’s fault. It’s not Brianna’s fault. You know that. Deep down, you know that.”

“No, it’s yours.”

“Dad, please.”

“You should get home now, Aria.” His tone was detached.

Vacant.

As if it no longer belonged to him.

“Dad,” I pleaded one more time before the line went dead.

I shoved my fist to my mouth to staunch the cry that threatened to tear free. Horror barreled through my senses as hot tears streaked down my cheeks.

My family.

Oh God, my family.

Sniffling, I swiped the moisture from my face with my sleeve and tried to gather myself. Tried to make sense of what was happening.

The far toilet flushed, and the stall door banged open.

“All done.”

Light footsteps padded, and water ran in the sink.

Their voices were soft as the woman helped the little girl wash her hands.

A second later, there was a light tapping at my stall. “Are you okay in there?”

Wiping more tears, I sucked down the emotion the best that I could. “Uh, yeah, sorry, my mom’s just really mad that I lost another phone.”

I unlatched the stall and stepped out.

Sympathy pulled through the woman’s expression, and the little girl swayed at her side as she held her mother’s hand.

“These silly things cost an arm and a leg, don’t they?” the woman said.

My nod was choppy as I handed her the phone. “Yeah. Thank you for letting me use yours.”

“No problem at all. I’m happy to help. Hopefully, you can get yours replaced soon.”

I forced a brittle smile, and the woman led her little girl to the door. When she opened it, she called, “Good luck.”

The little girl shifted to look back at me.

My heart seized because it wasn’t the blue eyes that stared back.

They were the palest gray eyes.

Wide and curious.

No longer the same face as the little girl who’d been standing beside her mother a moment ago.

It was the same child who’d peered at me through the car-door window at the rest stop.

Good luck, the little girl mouthed.

I blinked, and she’d morphed again.

Right before the door swung shut behind them.