Long After Read online

  laughs. “You and Malloy. What the fuck was that Annie?”

  Oh. That.

  I don’t respond because I’m trying to come up with some kind of excuse. Some plausible reason that makes it okay to stare at another guy in front of your boyfriend. I know I need a good defense. Loden’s pre-law, after all, but my mind’s coming up blank. I guess I can go speechless.

  Loden steps into me, forcing me back against a locker with his body. His chest is firm, tensed against my torso. He lowers his face directly in front of mine. “Are you fucking around with him?”

  I still can’t speak. My heart is pounding against my ribs. I shake my head and he grips my upper arms. “He’s my friend. I won’t put up with you flirting with my friends. Embarrassing me.” He squeezes his hands, pinching my arms painfully.

  Tears form in the corners of my eyes. How did this happen? How could I screw this up so badly? So quickly? “Loden,” I rasp, “you’re hurting me.”

  “Don’t do this shit again, Annie, or I’m done.” He releases me, but I don’t move. I just stare at him. Watch him adjust the strap on his shoulder and smooth back his hair. He takes a deep breath then stares at me, his eyes penetrating.

  My fingers curl into fists at my sides. I don’t know what to do. What to say. My knees keep shaking and I need to sit down. Or run.

  Loden moves quickly, pushing his body against mine once again. He touches his hands, soft and smooth, to my face. “I’m sorry. I got jealous. I don’t like thinking about you with other guys.” He trails his lips over my cheek and then presses them gently to mine. “Don’t make me jealous.”

  I nod and he slams his mouth down on mine, kissing me hungrily. I’ve kissed Loden a lot over the past few weeks, but never like this. This is demanding. He’s taking. And I can’t decide if I like it or not. My mind is still several steps back, going over everything I did wrong.

  He was so angry with me.

  I almost blew this.

  I slide my fingers up his arms slowly, carefully, testing his willingness. When he doesn’t protest, I continue on to his shoulders, firm but no longer tense, and then to his neck. I let my fingers play with the soft, thick hair at his nape. He slips his into my curls and angles my mouth where he can better reach me.

  I meet his tongue with my own and he groans lowly. It’s as if he’s praising me, rewarding me for my efforts. So I put everything I can into this kiss, telling him I’m sorry with my touch, and searching out his forgiveness.

  He pulls back and wraps his arms around my back, hugging me tightly to him. I breathe in the scent of his soap and shampoo. Trying to reset myself. I have to be more careful in the future. I can’t let Chase screw this up for me just because I’m slightly attracted to him.

  “I won’t do it again,” I promise.

  12

  Chase

  Present

  There’s a hand on my head.

  Warm.

  Firm.

  It guides me into the back of the police cruiser.

  I sit.

  Stare out the window, but I don’t really see anything.

  There’s talking. Crackling on the radio.

  Silence.

  More talking.

  It’s all just noise.

  Just background sounds I don’t hear. Don’t care to hear.

  I feel the car shift. A door closes.

  We move, I know, because I start to get dizzy as cars and trees become colors and blurs.

  I don’t close my eyes.

  But I don’t see.

  We stop several times.

  There’s more talking.

  I think I catch my name.

  I don’t know if someone is talking to me or about me.

  I don’t care.

  The next time we stop, my door is opened.

  I step out. I don’t know where.

  I don’t ask. I just let them guide me.

  I’m sitting in a chair that’s bolted to the ground.

  I wonder why anyone would need to bolt a chair to the floor.

  Do people really steal chairs that often it makes this a necessity?

  They cuff my wrist to the chair.

  Now it makes more sense.

  They aren’t worried about theft.

  They’re worried about me getting away.

  My hands are caked in blood.

  Some is mine. Most is Loden’s.

  My clothes are stiff with more of Loden’s blood, dried to a deep brown.

  I want it off.

  They won’t let me change.

  They won’t let me wash my hands.

  They took pictures.

  Photos of my blood-soiled clothes.

  My hands.

  Documented the few marks on my neck and face.

  I don’t have much to show. Loden barely had time to react when I jumped on him.

  I close my eyes, refusing to remember until I have to.

  I can’t relive it over and over again.

  I feel like a monster because I can’t summon an ounce of remorse.

  None.

  Zero.

  I use my one call on my dad.

  He promises he’s on his way.

  He says something else, too. Something about a lawyer.

  I know that’s not something we can afford.

  The state’s supposed to appoint me one. I remember the cop telling me that when he read me my Miranda rights.

  I wonder why they’re called Miranda rights.

  I never thought about it before.

  Never needed to.

  I want to know what’s going on with Annie.

  Where is she?

  Is she okay?

  They won’t tell me.

  They won’t tell me anything.

  All they see when they look at me is a tatted up criminal.

  A murderer.

  I guess that’s what I am. So it’s a fair assumption.

  Maybe if I were willing to talk to them, tell them what happened, then they’d reciprocate, tell me about Annie.

  But I don’t talk about it.

  Not yet.

  I don’t think I can claim self-defense since my life was never in danger.

  After the first few hits, when Loden went still, I could have stopped.

  I should have stopped.

  But I didn’t. I didn’t stop.

  I couldn’t.

  All I could think about was him buying his way out of trouble and getting away with it.

  There’s more talking.

  More noise.

  Nobody is really saying anything.

  Shit.

  I want to know what the hell is happening.

  Where is Annie?

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  “You’re one lucky son-of-a-bitch,” someone tells me.

  I don’t know who he is.

  I don’t know why he’s talking to me.

  He takes a sip from his coffee cup before setting it on the corner of a desk. It’s piled high with manila folders.

  The desk. Not the coffee.

  “Your guy didn’t die.”

  I look at him blankly.

  “He’s still unconscious. It’ll be touch and go until he wakes up, but he has a heartbeat. That’s all that matters, kid.”

  I don’t reply.

  I don’t know how I feel about that.

  I’m glad I’m not a murderer, but…

  Well, no, there is no but.

  I’m glad I’m not a murderer.

  It’s just now he’ll live to do this again.

  God.

  Fuck.

  He can do it again.

  He can hurt somebody again.

  “That reduces your charges,” he adds.

  I nod.

  I get it.

  I know I should be relieved.

  This weight on my shoulders should lighten a little.

  The pain in my chest should ease.

  But none of that happens.


  The guy settles in the chair beside me, resting his ankle on his knee.

  I stare at my own knee. It bounces up and down.

  I wish my dad would get here.

  I hate sitting here alone.

  Not knowing what’s happening.

  I need someone to check into Annie for me.

  That’s all I need.

  “You want to talk to me? Tell me what happened tonight?”

  I shake my head.

  Concentrate hard on my knee.

  He sighs. Leans over to retrieve his mug. Takes a long drink.

  He doesn’t say anything else.

  We sit in silence as the time passes.

  The large, overhead clock ticking each second away. I wish it were quiet.

  The more I try to block it, the more flashes I get.

  I don’t know why the ticking of a clock makes me think of it.

  Images of Loden on top of Annie.

  Annie’s lips blue and trembling.

  And her eyes.

  God, her eyes.

  I’ve never seen fear like that in my life.

  I don’t want to see it ever again.

  How can a person do that to another human being?

  How can they look them in the eyes and be so merciless?

  I chuckle, gaining the guy’s attention once again.

  I probably look insane to him, laughing at nothing while I sit here.

  Am I the pot or the kettle in this scenario?

  I showed no mercy for Loden.

  Not even a little.

  None at all.

  What does that make me?

  The monster I think I am?

  Or am I something else?

  Something worse?

  I sure as shit don’t know the answer.

  I wish someone would tell me.

  13

  You Got Time

  Annie

  Nineteen Months Before

  I’ve done it again.

  I made him angry.

  I’ve overstepped some unknown boundary, trailed past some invisible line, and now Loden’s fingers dig into my hips. I gasp from the unexpected sharp bite of his nails. I feel the blood drain from my face as his eyes hold me, cold and irate.

  “Why do you keep doing this?” His voice is low, quiet, but accusing. “You make me crazy. Why do you keep flirting with my friends?”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Stop,” he growls. His fingers flex, squeezing harder. I want to pull away, shove him back, but I hold myself immovable. Every muscle in my body is rigid, unsure what he’ll say next. What he’ll do.

  “The swim team is off limits.” He glowers at me, the skin around his eyes tight and I think he’s restraining himself. “Do you understand me?”

  I don’t reply, partially because I assume the question is rhetorical, and partially because, no, I don’t understand him. Off limits?

  He presses into me, his whole body against mine, pinning me to the wall. “Answer. Me.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. One hand climbs my body, caressing across my throat, and continuing to thread into my hair. His hold is too tight, stinging. “You are not allowed to flirt with anybody on the swim team. Do you know how it makes me look when you pull this shit?”

  “I wasn’t flirting.”

  I was only talking to one of his teammates—this really sweet guy, Vince. He’s always been nice to me and I consider him a friend. He walked past me on his way to the locker room and noticed I was working on the homework assignment from our shared class. He told me he was having a hard time with it, so I offered to help him by walking him through some of the problems.

  Vince was appreciative. He took a seat beside me and we discussed the homework until he had a better understanding. He thanked me with a smile that I returned—because he’s my friend. That’s it. This is nothing like what happened with Chase. I was careful to keep my eyes on Vince’s face. We stayed on topic the entire ten minutes it took for him to get it down.

  But I knew as soon as he walked away and I turned back to the pool I was in trouble. Loden’s gaze was locked on me, dark with fury. He dove underwater and swam several more laps, letting the natatorium clear out before he approached me.

  And now, here I am, trapped against the painted tiled walls, his hot breath in my face.

  “I saw you,” he seethes. “You know how that makes me feel.” His eyes narrow, brows puckered.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, not because I did anything wrong, but because I know it’s what he wants to hear.

  Loden smiles, placated, and releases me. He dips his head, running his tongue up my throat. He skims his nose along my jaw and then he’s kissing me, rough and