Page 84 of No Control

“Shut up, Lydia.” His words are shocking, and I retrieve my hand, settling back into the seat. He’s never spoken to me like that.

And I hate it.

He doesn’t even care anymore, and that’s more horrifying than if he held a knife to my throat. I fall into silence beside him, listening to Duke pant in the backseat. I focus my attention on the landmarks we pass, and it begins to grow familiar.

And it hits me in the gut when he tears into the airport entrance.

You don’t kill someone at an airport with their luggage and dog—but also, he didn’t pack… Because he’s not going.

What’s he going to do? Pay them to crash the plane?

Or let me go.

A jet is already parked outside when he pulls up alongside it. Without a word, he climbs out, ripping open the backdoor and grabbing Dukes leash. He hands it to one of the two men outside of the jeep, while the other grabs my luggage.

Henry then walks around to my side of the car and pops the door open. “Let’s go.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Where am I going?”

He looks me dead in the eye, his eyes finally flashing with something that leaves me aching. “Home. You’re going home.” He reaches across me and unclicks the seatbelt when I don’t. “Come on.”

I climb out with shaky legs, staring at him, but he’s not looking at me. I feel my phone begin to buzz in my pocket—over and over. But I don’t reach for it as I walk toward the stairs of the plane.

When we reach them, I turn to face him. “Why?”

He meets my gaze, finally. “Why, what?”

“Why are you letting me go? I could tell the po—”

“I love you, Lydia,” he cuts me off. “I love you with every fucking ounce of my being. Every monster and evil inside of me bows to you. And I thought…” He pauses, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and then looking away from me. “I thought if I broke you, you’d love me. But as it turns out, I was the one who was meant to be broken. And I’m the one who's sorry.”

My mouth falls open. I want to scream at him, beat my fists into his chest for breaking my heart with a gut-wrenching speech. But I’m still so livid that he lied to me. Manipulated me. Took a life because of me. I feel guilty for what he’s done to others, and that’s not fair. I want to shout that at him and make him feel the pain he’s caused me. I want him to know he messed me up worse than anyone else ever could’ve.

But not a word slips out of my throat. I’m frozen as he leans in, planting a soft kiss on the top of my forehead. And even as the fury thrums through my body, I still want to wrap my arms around him. I want him to be the one who makes it all go away. My life might’ve been rocked by breaking up with Mason—but that might’ve never happened had I never met Henry.

And I’m so torn.

So, I watch him walk away, telling myself that it’s for the best. I watch him climb into the jeep. I watch him leave, taillights disappearing into the night. And only when he’s no longer there, and the flight attendant taps on my shoulder, do I board the flight.

My head is confused and I’m still so freaking angry, but there’s one thing I’m certain Henry’s wrong about.

He broke me, too. And I fell in love with him, anyway.

thirty-five

Lydia

Six months. Half a year. Six fucking months.

Half a fucking year.

That’s how long it’s been.

I sit on my couch and stare at the TV screen as it plays a segment on Mason’s body being recovered. A known serial killer in Vermont is charged for the murder. Today, the trial starts. Twenty-three more bodies were found in his backyard.

But I know the truth.

It’s just another articulated plan by an organization that I know exists somewhere in the darker realms of society. They manipulate murders. They use sickos like this guy on the TV when they have to. When it serves them.

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