Page 5 of Welcome Home
I should leave.
I want to, God; I want to. How hard would it be to get out clean if I did? The police would track me down, that’s for sure. I'm not smart or clever enough to pull that off. Nothing long term,thismess I'm in wasn’t even meant to be a long-term thing. I accepted the last night I saw Oliver what the inevitable end to my story would be and if I… by some miracle, made it out unscathed, it would be a bonus. And it sure as hell wouldn’t be spent here. My body works on autopilot as I walk up the stairs, quiet sobs and shuttering breaths narrating my journey.
He’s here.
I smelled him, tasted him in our kiss, felt his warm skin pressed against mine. Those honey-colored eyes were far from the cold and blank ones from that night.
He’s here.
I didn’t get stuck this time; I didn’t look at the notch at the bottom of the wooden banister. It no longer stands as a reminder for me. It doesn’t hold the power it once did. Whatever this is…whatever is happening, I have to deal with it. I have to handle it.
Fix it.
I won’t go back to him; I won’t subject myself to more sleepless nights and torment, wondering where he is or if he’ll come home. No more steeling myself so I can take whatever hateful things spew from his soft lips. No more disgusted glances while he preys on every flaw. I’d rather rot in the ground beside him before that happens. I don’t know what he’ll say to the police, what he knows.It knows?He looks just like himself. There’s no way anyone has that exact of a match out there somewhere waiting for the perfect time. One that knows all my struggles and secrets. One that knows us. I grew up beside Oliver. There was never any twin at least that I heard of. This…whatever this is, it’s not natural. It feels wrong, like someone parading around in a suit made up of all the things that made Oliver…. Oliver. I grab the cleaning supplies from the hallway closet and get to work scrubbing the blood and vomit from the carpet. The sight of the deep red smear only adds to my resolve. I’ve come too far to lethimwin.
I’ve been thinking about this all wrong. It’s a game he wants to play, he is Oliver after all. Right? I'll play. Not just because the alternative involves asking for help from the police who likely would not only not believe me but also lay waste to every lie I’ve spun for the last few months. I’d end up on some shitty true crime podcast and staring down the barrel of twenty-five to life. Or in grippy socks.
You can do this, Cora.
Play the game, then replay the night that changed the course of both of your lives forever. With fewer mistakes, fewer emotions involved. Say goodbye to Oliver Neilson for the second time.
The sun dips lower when the sound of the side gate being opened sends a jolt of unease down my spine. I don’t look as I lay back in the hammock beside the garden, dark clouds masking the sun’s blaring rays and any beauty that comes at sunset. The only bonus is they take the edge off the smothering heat of South Florida. Even in October, the heat rises into the high eighties. I’ve always hated the unpredictable, humid weather here. I can feel him walking closer, my teeth digging into my cheek.
“You wouldn’t pick up your phone.” He towers over me, lifting his knee to stop the hammock from swaying. The loss of breeze feels severe.
Then again, so does everything else right now.
It wasn't a question, so I don't answer. Just stare up at his tousled hair, ignoring his eyes. He sighs, rubbing his face with his hands. Another thing my husband would never do. The slightest hint of anger slips into my chest, and despite my best efforts, I can’t swallow past it.
“Do you have any idea how much bacteria lives on your hands? That’s disgusting.” I spit out, repeating his own words back to him.
He stares looming down at them like they are tools he'd only just attached. “Right.” The words are on the tip of my tongue, begging to come out. My emotions once again trying to ruin carefully thought-out plans.
You’re not my husband.
Instead, I say something entirely different, something almost more scary than the man himself, “Did you tell them?”
He frowns, reaching out to brush my hair from my face. “There’s nothing to tell Cora. I'm an adult. Adults are allowed to drop off the face of the earth if they want.” I inwardly curse myself for the hint of relief that fills my chest. I shouldn’t feel relieved, it’s just another lie. Another story to keep straight.
“Where did you go?” My voice cracks, my eyes falling again to the dying marigolds. Their vibrancy weaning into a deep brown.
I flinch as his fingers find my jaw, forcing my eyes up at him. A shutter runs down my spine as his thumb traces the cupid's bow of my lips. “Vegas.”
Vegas. Okay.
His face falls, the crease between his thick brows deepening. My lips part slightly, the pad of his skilled finger tickling the flesh. I shouldn’t feel this way. It shouldn’t resonate deep in my core, but it’s been so long since anyone has touched me but myself. So long sincehe’sbothered to touch me at all. Even at his worst, Oliver was strikingly beautiful, but all the most poisonous toads are.
“How could he not have loved these lips?” He whispers half to himself, and it hits me like a splash of cold water.
I jerk up, away from his grasp. A yelp leaves my throat as the hammock rocks violently. Oliver reaches out, steadying it, allowing me enough time to scramble free. “I think you should go somewhere else.”
He stops, his jaw clenching. “I just got home.”
I scoff. “We both know this isn’t your home.”
So much for playing the game.
Another flash crosses his eyes, one dark enough to strip me of my confidence. “This is my home. I’ve lived here with you for the last six years. This is where I graduated from medical school, where you wrecked your car three blocks away. I remember it when they rolled you into the hospital. You looked so scared. Not because you had a broken leg and three fractured ribs, but because you knew I’d be angry. I was. I waited for everyone to leave the room and then I yelled at you for being so stupid. For not paying attention.” Tears prickle in my eyes as I take a step back.
