Page 124 of Crossed
My fingers grip the side of the toilet tighter.
Sharp shots of panic flit around my chest because he knows where Dalia lives.
Cade will bring Quinten to me, and we’ll figure out what to do from there.
But I hope he brings Dalia too. She isn’t safe in town as long as Parker is there.
I must lie on the cold bathroom floor for thirty minutes until I’ve worked through the panic, reassuring myself that everything will be okay because it justhasto be.
Slowly, I rise to my feet, glancing at myself in the mirror and seeing, once again, that I’m filthy from the day. My mind flip- flops, debating on whether I should take a shower or go venture downstairs and see if I’m all alone.
I should introduce myself to whoever’s staying here. I glance down at my fingers again, cringing, and decide a shower is absolutely necessary.
The heat of the water eases my sore muscles and relaxes the tension that’s been clinging onto my skin for the past whoever knows how long. I still feel sick and torn apart, worried about Quinten, disgusted by Parker, and nervous about what I did to Florence, but something about knowing Cade is in my corner has me breathing a little easier.
He’ll take care of everything.
The mirror is fogged after my shower and I stand in front of it, reaching out and swiping a line to look at myself in the reflection. I’m not sure what I expect to find, but I’m surprised when the person staring back at me is still just…me.
Nothing extraordinary, no harshness to my gaze that wasn’t there before, just plain old Amaya Paquette.
Sighing, I walk back out to the bedroom, scrunching up my nose at the dirty clothes I have to get back into. But it’s not like I have any other option. I get redressed, scanning the fabric for bloodstains and feeling lucky that I chose something dark to wear so they don’t stand out, and then I leave the room, taking in my surroundings fully for the first time since I got here.
I wasn’t exactly in my right mind. Honestly, I’m still not sure that I am.
The stairs creak as I make my way down them, and my hand grips the banister, the wood cool and smelling like Pine-Sol. The entire atmosphere is a little eerie, and goose bumps sprout over my entire body.
There’s a fire crackling in the corner of the living room and a small open frame without a door that leads to a narrow kitchen on the left.
Maybe I should grab a drink.Chamomile tea, orsomethingto help calm my nerves while I sit here and wait.
I walk into the dimly lit kitchen, past the small white refrigerator that’s humming into the air, and open the cupboard next to it, looking for a cup.
The floor creaks behind me right as I grab a glass, and I spin around, my heart jumping into my throat. The glass in my hand drops to the ground and shatters, slicing up my ankles and pooling at my feet. But I don’t feel the sting.
The woman’s eyes grow wide and she stumbles back, a hand flying to her chest. “Amaya,” she whispers, blood draining from her face.
My mouth drops open and I blink in disbelief.
Because standing right in front of me is my mother.
Chapter50
Cade
I’VE ALWAYS BEEN A RATHER VIOLENT MAN. IT’S something that has existed inside me since I was a small child.
It was the reason Sister Agnes took to beating me with the belt.
Back then, of course, I didn’t know how to utilize the feeling. I hadn’t yet learned to funnel it into a useful resource. Instead, it would build and build and build inside me until it exploded like fire from a dragon’s mouth.
At first, I would tear up stuffed animals or break a dish just to feel it shatter. Sister Agnes didn’t like that much, but it wasn’t something I could control.
It was only through time, age, and patience that I was able to separate who I was as a man— and then eventually as a priest— from the monster.
Right now, as I swing my car into an empty space outside what used to be Amaya’s apartment, the snow crunching beneath the tires, I feel like that little boy again, the fury in me unable to find a source or direction, so instead, it’s just marinating in my veins.
Building.
