Where I End Page 4

  She's trembling beneath my hands. She blinks repeatedly. I release her and stand to pace the bedroom, raking my hand through my hair. "What if he comes here?" I ask. "What if he comes for me, or you? I need to be able to protect us. I need the fucking gun, Evie!"

  "No. I'd rather him break down my door than let you hold that gun."

  "You don't know what you're saying." There's no way she does.

  "I've never been so scared in my entire life as I was when I saw you press that gun to your head. I never knew fear like that existed. I would've done, and will do, anything to keep you from taking your life. If that means I must face Everett, then so be it. If he tries to get in my apartment, I'll call the cops and get the gun myself. I will fight for you, Cy. That gun, however, is never getting back in your hands again."

  Four

  Eve

  Every word he tells me, every single thing he says, gives me a glimpse of what he went through and makes my stomach turn. I still can't wrap my head around all he's suffered at the hands of someone who was supposed to care for him. No, Everett isn't his biological father, but he's in his life as a father figure. He lives with Cy and his mother, and he abused Cy for years. I wish I had the power to take away all his pain. To take away every awful memory he has and replace them with new ones.

  Somehow, I manage to get Cy back in bed, and we both drift off to sleep. When I wake, the room is bathed in darkness. Sitting up, I rub my eyes. Then I reach out to the other side of the bed and notice it’s empty. Panic sets in. Where's Cy? Did he leave? Has he tried to kill himself another way?

  I throw the blankets off me and step into my tiny hallway. There is a sliver of light coming from under the bathroom door. I knock, but there’s no answer. The shower is on. I can hear it through the door. My heart is beating rapidly at the uncertainty of what I might find on the other side. Slowly, I turn the doorknob and push the door open.

  "Cy?" No answer. "I'm coming in." He still doesn't answer.

  Inside, the steam of the shower has fogged up the entire bathroom, including the mirror, in a thick haze. I take the few short steps to the shower. The curtain is closed, leaving me unable to see inside.

  "Cy? Are you okay?" No reply. "I'm opening the curtain."

  My shaking fingers grip the cloth curtain and the plastic liner to slide it open. When I have it pulled back a little, I see him. Cy is sitting on the floor of the bathtub with his knees pushed up to his chest, and his face is resting on them. His arms are wrapped around his legs and he's gently rocking. The water is beating down on his head, arms, and shoulders, leaving his skin red from the temperature of it.

  I change the water from scalding to warm, then crouch down beside the bathtub. I place my hand on his shoulder, the heat of his skin seeping into my own. He doesn't move; doesn't acknowledge my presence.

  "Cy, look at me. I need to know you're okay." The worry I have for this man is immense. What if he found the acetaminophen I have and took it all?

  His head lifts and his bloodshot eyes find mine. "I'm not okay, Evie. I don't know if I'll ever be okay. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. He hasn't touched me in years, and I still can't chase the images away. I’ve tried not to let anyone see how bad I’ve been hurting for years now. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t pretend I’m all right."

  I want to climb in the shower and pull him into my arms. I want to hold him and chase every one of those bad memories away. Not knowing how he’d react to me doing so, I stay on my side of the bathtub. "I'm sorry. I wish there were something I could do."

  "There isn't." He stands abruptly. I don't give a second thought to the fact he's naked. I grab a towel and hand it to him. He doesn't look at me again. He dries off then brushes past me to pick up his clothes off the floor and go back to my bedroom. He's dressed in a matter of moments and walking barefoot toward my door.

  "Where are you going?" I ask.

  "I'm leaving. Parker is picking me up."

  "What? Why?" I don't want him to leave. What if Parker won't stop him if he tries to harm himself again? What if he lets him buy another gun?

  "I shouldn't have let you bring me here."

  I can't keep the anger from my tone. "And what would you have had me do? Ignore you? Let you put a bullet in your head?"

  He turns so he's fully facing me. His hands are clenched in fists by his side. "Yes! That's exactly what you should have done! Don't you get it, Evie? I can't escape this fucking nightmare that is my life. No matter what I do, no matter how many women I fuck, or how much I drink, he's always there in the back of my head, reminding me I'm not good enough. Telling me how if I step out of line he'll be there to teach me a lesson."

  "He can't get to you here, especially not while I'm around."

  "He doesn't need to be here physically. He's in my fucking head!" he screams, while pointing his finger at his right temple. “He never leaves!"

  I'm about to say he needs a doctor. He needs to talk to someone and get on medication, which can help him through this, but I don't because I said I wouldn't take him to the hospital. So instead I say, "Let me help you."

  "There is no help for me! It's me living through this shit existence day after day. And the worst part is you seeing me like this."

  I take a step closer to him. He doesn’t move but stays rigid. "Why? Because you've spent years hating me and are afraid I'll somehow hold this over your head?" I don't know what he's thinking, but this is all I can reason. "I would never do that to you."

  "No," he shakes his head. "I know you better than that. You’re not the type of person who would do that."

  "Then why?"

  "Because if I allow you in any further, I'll never be able to let you go." My breath catches and my body stills. Did he really just say that? Does this mean he doesn't hate me as I always thought he did? Sure, he held my hand and had me stay in bed with him, but I thought it was because he didn't want to be alone and needed someone there with him.

  There's a knock on my door. Cy turns and opens it. Parker is standing on the other side. He glances at me, then Cy, then back to me again.

  "I'll be in the car," Cy mumbles and leaves before I can say another word.

  Parker leans against the doorframe, his blond hair messy, like he came here straight from bed. "So, you and Revere, huh?" His lips quirk up on one side. "Can't say I'm surprised."

  "Oh, shut the fuck up, Parker. You have no idea what's going on. I'm going to tell you, but if you so much as breathe a word of what I say to Cy, I'll have your head."

  He puts his hands up. "All right, all right, no need to threaten me. Damn."

  "Cy tried to kill himself yesterday." Parker's eyes widen. "The only reason he didn't was because I was there to stop it. He still wants to die. You can't let him get near any guns, drugs, alcohol, anything. Do you hear me? He needs help, Parker. More than you or I can give him."

  "Holy shit. I didn't...how...why?"

  "That's not for me to tell you. You need to keep a close eye on him, and no matter what happens, don't take him home. Keep him far away from there. And you have to get him to a doctor. He needs to talk to someone about what’s going on."

  He nods. "He can stay with me for as long as he needs to. I have the room." I’m sure he does. His parents are wealthy, too. Last I heard, they bought him a cabin in the mountains. Eavesdropping pays off sometimes. At least with Cy staying there he'll be far away from home.

  I scribble my number on a piece of paper I find on the counter. "Text me your address when you can. I'm going to Cy's later to return some of the shit I have of Risa's. I quit my job, by the way.” He opens his mouth, but I hold up my hand. “Again, not for me to tell you. I'll grab Cy some clothes, shoes, and whatever else I can and bring them to your house."

  "I can't believe he would do that."

  "Yeah, well, there's a lot you don't know about him."

  I close the door behind Parker after he promises to call me if something happens and to keep Cy safe. Glancing at the clock, I notice
it's four in the morning. I can't go to Risa's now. Everett will probably be there, and I have zero desire to see him. If I went now, I’d want to take the gun and be tempted to put a bullet in his head. I’d happily sit in jail for murder, knowing that son of a bitch can’t hurt Cy ever again.

  I lie back down in bed and bring the blankets over me. Cy's scent drifts to me. It's woodsy and sweet. Like peppermint mixed with the outdoors. I stay in bed for a few hours, never nodding off for more than a few minutes at a time. I'm too worried about Cy to get a solid sleep.

  Finally, at seven thirty, I drag my ass out of bed and throw on a clean pair of jeans and a black tank top. I slip on a pair of sneakers, grab my purse, keys, and the box of shit I have of Risa's. All of it's going back. It's not like I use it often anyway. A headset to do conference calls with her, a second laptop in case the first one breaks, and a few other things.

  The drive to Risa's is short. The closer I get, the angrier I am. I don’t want to see her. I want to do what I have to do and get the hell out. I park in the driveway and gather the box. Using my key, I let myself inside. It's quiet. No one is walking around or cleaning. I drop the box on my desk and look around quickly. I never was one to personalize my space so there isn't anything here of mine. It's all Risa's, or stuff she had given me, which I can't bear to look at now. It's all tainted. Everything. I'll never see her in the same light again.

  I take the stairs two at a time to the second floor and open every door until I find Cy's room, then close the door behind me. The curtains are closed, bathing the room in darkness. I part them to let a little light in so I can see what I’m doing. Clothes are scattered about, leaving me unsure if they are clean or dirty. His bed isn't made; the blankets are half on the bed, half hanging to the floor.

  I find his closet and thank whoever is above that there is a duffle bag in here. I didn't think to bring one with me to gather his stuff in. I pull shirts and jeans off hangers and shorts from a shelf. Then I move to his dresser for socks, boxers, and something for him to sleep in. Sweatpants, basketball shorts, anything. I have no idea if what I'm grabbing will match. I'm simply stuffing as much as I can in the bag. I also tuck his laptop, charger, and wallet inside. I'm hunting for shoes when the door opens. I still, not knowing who it is. I hope it's not Everett.

  "Cy?" It's Risa. She sniffles and takes a few steps into the room. She must have canceled her trip.

  "Nope. Try again." I don’t hold back the bite in my tone. She doesn't deserve any kindness.

  "Eve, I didn't expect you."

  "No, I wouldn't think so, yet here I am." I’m pushing sneakers into the bag as I squeeze the sides together to zip it up.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Getting clothes for Cy, since there is no way in hell I'm allowing him to come back to this house."

  "Eve, let me explain."

  I whirl on her. "Fuck your explanation! You don't get to even try after what you did, or didn't do, for that matter."

  "I know you're mad, but if you'd–"

  "Mad? You think I'm mad? That's the understatement of the year! I'm fucking fuming! How could you?" Her face crumples as she starts sobbing. "You know what? I don't want to know. What you did is inexcusable. Sit here, cry, do whatever you want, but I won't be around to witness it."

  There's another pair of sneakers near the bed, which I pick up along with the duffle bag and storm past her. She tries calling after me, but I ignore her. She can go straight to hell. I will never forgive her for ignoring her son. For letting the abuse continue when he told her about it repeatedly. With everything thrown into my car, I make the drive to Parker's cabin in the mountains.

  Arrow Falls is nestled at the foot of a mountain. There are numerous falls surrounding the town, which empty into a large river that snakes between the surrounding areas and us. Winters are cold, with a decent amount of snow and ice, while the summers are gorgeous with blooming flowers and mild, but not extremely hot, temperatures.

  The GPS on my phone tells me I've arrived at Parker's. Luckily, there is a mailbox with a street number on it, or I would have missed the turn thanks to the trees, which loom over the drive. I had sent a quick text to Parker before I left, letting him know I was on my way. When I reach the top of the winding driveway, the trees thin out and I see his cabin. It's a two-story A-frame, the multi-bay garage being on the bottom with beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows on the top. The roof goes to a high peak, and there is a wraparound deck.

  I get out of the car and grab Cy's duffle bag and sneakers. When I turn around, Parker is coming down the stairs off the deck toward me. He takes the bag from me.

  "How is he?” I ask.

  “Awful, but not to the point he was.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “No. He doesn't want to see you, Eve."

  "Why? I only want to help."

  His eyes soften. "I think he's more ashamed than anything."

  "He has nothing to be ashamed of." I pause for a moment. "He told you then?"

  "Bits. He didn't go in to detail, just gave me a broad overview."

  "What happens on Monday when you have to go back to work? We can't leave him alone." I don’t even know what Parker does for a living. His mom is a doctor and his father is a lawyer; that much I remember from overhearing conversations at Cy’s house.

  "I think he's going to be okay. I got him an appointment with a doctor this afternoon. He's adamant about not going to the hospital, but I did get him to agree to talk to someone."

  "That's good. You got further than I did."

  "Neither of us have slept since I picked him up."

  "He's lucky to have you." I'm glad Cy has someone he can talk to and who will listen to him. I have to admit, it hurts a little that it isn't me, but the end result is all that matters, and Cy is going to a doctor. He's going to get help. That's what is most important.

  Five

  Eve

  It's been four days since I've spoken to Parker. I texted him on Sunday, and he told me Cy was given some medication to take and had been sleeping. Parker also mentioned Cy was going to be starting therapy this week with a psychologist. I'm glad he’s getting help. Hopefully, it's the beginning of him getting better.

  I wish Cy would talk to me. I've tried texting him a few times but never got a response. I'm worried about him and probably will be until I see him again, assuring myself with my own eyes he is getting better. Of course, I also have a lot of time on my hands now that I'm unemployed. Too bad I don't have much in savings.

  I've been searching the Internet for hours looking for new jobs, but nothing is coming up. Okay, so there are the few I applied for and a bunch of others I'm qualified for, but the pay is nowhere close to what I was making with Risa. I'm so fucking screwed financially. Although, I don't regret quitting for one second. No way. I could never work for her again.

  My phone chimes with a text. I scramble off the couch, wondering if something has happened to Cy. When I pick it up, it's a text from Parker asking if I’m home. I tell him I am and he asks if I will meet him outside my apartment in ten minutes. Cy needs his truck, and Parker doesn't think it's a good idea for him to go to the house. I couldn't agree more. Once he gets here, we're going to get Cy's truck. I'll drive it and follow Parker back to his cabin. The only problem is it's after work, and there’s a chance Everett will be there. Fuck.

  I get dressed in something other than the pajamas I've been wearing all day, and take the gun and magazine out of the small safe I locked them in under my bed. I’m not sure what Risa has told Everett, but I will not let him threaten me. I have zero trust where either of them is concerned.

  Parker drives us in his dark grey Range Rover. He pulls up outside of the Revere mansion next to Cy's truck. I don't have the keys and neither does Parker, but there is a hook in the garage where a spare is kept. That much I know for certain. Thanks to the house key I have, I let myself in the door next to the garage and grab the key as quietly as possible. When I'm back outside and abou
t to open the truck door, Everett opens the garage door and steps out onto the driveway.

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Eve," he threatens.

  "Wouldn't do what exactly? Drive the truck that isn't yours?"

  "You're right, it's not mine. It's Risa's."

  "No, that's where you're wrong. I know for a fact this truck is in Cy's name. See, one of my many duties as Risa's assistant was to make sure all the vehicles were current with their insurance and registration, and this truck,” I say as I pat the driver’s side door, “is all Cy's. Paid for, all in his name, title included."

  He takes two steps closer. "Risa is very upset. She wants her son to come home."

  "Then maybe Risa should have thrown your ass out years ago, when Cy told her you were abusing him."

  His face reddens with anger. He looks like he’s about to go atomic, he’s so pissed. "You don't know what you're talking about. He lies. He's lied since I moved in," he seethes.

  "You would say that. God forbid anyone finds out you used to abuse a minor. I know the face of someone who's so fucking broken they want to end their life. Cy talked to me. You were supposed to be a father figure to him, yet you did something unimaginable."

  Parker stands by my side. The moment Everett came outside, Parker leaped from his SUV. "We're leaving. Let's go, Eve,” Parker states.

  Everett rushes toward us. "Like hell you are."

  I pull the gun from my purse, which is slung over my shoulder. As soon as I saw his anger surface, I slipped my hand inside my purse and gripped the gun, just in case I needed it. I’m glad I was ready.

  Everett stops as his mouth lifts into a smirk. "You think I'm scared of you because you have a gun?"

  "No, but you should be because I'm a hell of a shot."

  "Risa!" he shouts. "Call the cops."

  "Oh, good," I reply. "When they get here, I can tell them all about how you raped your stepson, beat him, and mentally abused him. Are you ready to go to jail, Everett? I hear they treat men like you really well in there."