Page 11 of Angels and Skulls
That overwhelming feeling of dread washes over me. Every fucking night I relive my final moments with Rachel. Nothing makes it go away. I thought this was supposed to get easier with time.
Fuck. I can’t do this. I can’t.
I go back to the couch and dump the blankets on it. My eyes land on the box in the middle of the coffee table. I run my fingers through my hair.
I’ve been lying to myself. I’m not here because I’m worried about crossing a line with my best friends, and I’m definitely not here because I’m ready to sleep under this roof again.
I’m here because of that fucking box.
My fingers trace over the letters she wrote so many years ago. I sit down, staring at it.
I’ve always wondered if Maggie had anything of Jenny’s. I didn’t ask because who was I to request anything from her? I’m partially to blame for her daughter running away. I should have spoken up. I should have stopped us. If it wasn’t for me, she’d still have her daughter.
But then we wouldn’t have Jackson.
I shake my head. Things are the way they are for a reason.
Damned if it doesn’t make it any less confusing.
I flick the lid off with one finger before changing my mind.
Instantly, a smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. On top is a picture of Jenny and me at the beach. I pick it up, my smile widening when I see my name in her handwriting at the bottom. Man, we were just babies.
I lay every picture and trinket on the coffee table. The rocks and crystals at the bottom must be the ones Miss Maggie wastalking about. My hand trembles as I pluck out the amethyst and hold it to the light.
Why does the universe keep fucking with me when it comes to her?
The signs. I find them everywhere. Everything reminds me of Jenny. And that right there is the source of my current guilt.
When Rachel was alive, I could separate the two. Rachel was the beat of my heart, and Jenny was the pause. Rachel was live and in stereo. Jenny was a ghost from the past. It made sense that I would find her in the world around me, in the only places I could. Now that they’re both gone, I find myself in constant turmoil over who I’m missing more. It almost doesn’t even feel right to miss Jenny anymore. It feels like I’m betraying my wife. I was married to Rachel. She should be the only thing on my mind. She died in my arms.
I’m so fucking confused.
I tap the crystal on the table.
You know, I saw her once. At Bill’s funeral. I swore I saw her standing behind a tree. Rachel was the only person I ever told. Everyone was deep in their grief. I wasn’t about to add to anyone’s stress over a crazy apparition.
We talked it out, and we both agreed it had to be because of my grief over losing Bill. Rachel suggested I go back to therapy for a while. Even then, I couldn’t get it out of my mind.
The professionals say it’s because our relationship was left unresolved. After the traffickers separated us, I never saw her again. They said the trauma permanently altered my brain chemistry.
I have to say, I agree with them. And that was fine with me … because I never want to forget her.
A pang of guilt doubles me over. My gaze goes to my wedding photo with Rachel. “I’m sorry,” I whisper to her.
Maybe that’s it. I’m afraid Rachel can read my mind now. She was pretty fucking good at it when she was alive, so I’m sure she isn’t missing a fucking thing now. Rachel had a way of keeping me on my toes.
I lie back and close my eyes. I fall asleep dreaming of her beautiful face and quick wit.
God, I miss her.
Chapter Five
Jesse
Dirk and Brody stare at me as I talk to Raffe on the phone. When I hang up, Dirk texts him, making sure he’s okay.
“Do you want me to run by there on my way home?” Brody asks.
