Page 30 of Beautiful Chances

Wakingupwitha freaking kink in my neck is not how I wanted today to begin, and that’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one. I don’t want today to start or end. Frankly, I don’t want it to exist at all. I would love to say that I’m coming to terms with living without Mark, but I haven’t. And because of this, I was almost glad for my mom’s outburst and poor behavior yesterday. Of course, it would have been nicer if she could act like my mom, the woman who’s supposed to love me unconditionally instead of always acting like the woman scorned by my very existence.

Mark once told me that friends are the family we choose for ourselves, and he’s right. Even if Reid, Jewell, and my dad are being good, I still had to ask them to come to the funeral. I emailed Mark’s obituary to Reid, so they knew. I suppose there’s a slight chance that they didn’t want to impose and wanted me to make the decisions, and fuck, I’m so fed up with people doing that.

I’m the one who lost my original chosen family member, so why do I have to keep it together and make sure everyone else is up to date? And then, when I forge ahead and do things myself, the guys act like I’m clueless. I already know that if I hadn’t already taken care of it, Mark’s apartment wouldn’t exactly be habitable with all the blood and… Well…

Unable to think about the other residue and remnants left in Mark’s apartment, I push myself off the floor and watch Neil, who’s still sleeping.

How dare he be asleep when I’m struggling to breathe?

After switching on the lights for once, I try not to flinch as I see the wounds I’ve inflicted. I walk over to the hose and turn the water on, checking that it’s icy before I drench him in the cold water again.

“Today is the day, Neil,” I yell over his pathetic grunts of discomfort.

Keeping the water trained on his stomach, I watch with morbid fascination as his skin changes color.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He sputters, and for the first time, he doesn’t sound as hostile or indifferent as he has until now. “Stop it, please.”

How dare he beg? How dare he beg anything of me?

Pretending to do as he says, I point the hose toward the sleeping bag he has now. When I found the old and ratty blanket a few days ago, I swapped his pristine blanket for this piece of shit. With a smile on my face, I drench the fabric before I aim the water at his face. “You’re starting to look like a homeless person, and you should be clean today of all days. After all, it’s the day we put your former best friend in the ground. Don’t you want to be clean for that?”

“Why? Am I going?”

Even though confusion is palpable in the four words, it makes my temper flare like gasoline added to a flame. “Of course you’re not going. That question was stupid even for you. Do you know I contemplated letting you come? But you haven’t shown even an ounce of remorse, and you showed Mark no mercy. It’s only fair that I repay the favor.”

Knowing that I have to get ready whether I want to or not, I shut the water off and play the ‘Thong Song’ again, just for good measure.

I slept down here to make sure the song would keep going off every half hour, and it did. In the beginning, he was almost immune to it, but he isn’t now. It might even have been a few days, but it’s enough for him to look miserable every time the beat starts. I keep my eyes trained on him. Each tick and cringe brings me a sick satisfaction. Even though it’s nothing like the black hole I have in my heart, his discomfort and pain still lessen my own.

With a smile on my lips, I say, “I’ve changed the player settings to every ten minutes for the rest of the day. I hope you enjoy it.” Then I grab a pair of my dirty jeans from the washing machine before making my way up the stairs with my phone in hand.

Before I open the basement door, I listen closely, wanting to know if the guys are up yet. When I don’t hear any sounds, I bolt for the front door. As I walk through the kitchen, I notice two red and white lollipops placed on the counter, one crossed over the other. I have no doubt this is Kas’ handiwork. It has his humor written all over it, and despite everything, my lips twist in a wry smile.

Remembering I’m in a hurry, I quickly put on a pair of my ballerina shoes before leaving the house.

I know it’s shitty of me to leave like this, but I can’t face them. I already know their reactions, and I just can’t find it within me to care.

Not today.

Alec will hover and do his best to be around in case I reach for him. Kas will try to lighten the mood, and Coen will give me orders that he thinks I need to get through today. Then, once everything is said and done, he’ll want to talk about last night—something I have no intention of ever bringing up again. Next time I’ll have to position myself better. There has to be a way to manipulate things to make sure I can stay hidden and still be with them. If there isn’t… No, I don’t even want to think about what that means.

Clutching my phone, I stare intently at the Uber app, waiting for the ping to show me that my ride is near. It’s six in the morning, so it shouldn’t take long, but I can’t stop looking over my shoulder until I get picked up. Since I’m only a few streets away from the guys by now, it wouldn’t take them long to find me if they notice I’m gone. My only sliver of calm is hitched to the fact that I’m hoping they will text or call me before physically looking for me. However, after leaving Coen’s bed the way I did, there’s no telling what they’ll do.

Even though I know I’m alone, I keep feeling like someone is watching me. The small hairs on the back of my neck and the goosebumps covering my skin aren’t just from the cold. Neither is my labored breathing nor my need to constantly look around. Just because I don’t see anyone doesn’t mean I’m alone. I know this, just as I know that my tormentor is locked away safely in the guy’s basement. So why do I still feel nervous?

When I look around for the umpteenth time, I startle when I hear footsteps and see the bushes behind me move. “Fuck,” I mutter to myself, and I consider returning to the house. This eerie feeling of being watched is messing with me.

I sigh with relief when I get the notification at the same time that the silver car pulls up to the curb, and I get into the vehicle right away. Safe in the car, the only thing that’s making me shake is how cold I am. Leaving without proper shoes and my coat was as stupid as it was necessary—and the cold is a small price to pay for being alone.

The drive to Mark’s apartment takes almost no time, and I can’t decide if that’s good or bad. I still don’t feel ready to face what’s on the other side of his front door, even if I know exactly what the place looks like. Lila has been good like that. She’s been staying here ever since the police released their hold on the place, and she even had the home professionally cleaned. Well, I paid for it, but she organized and oversaw it.

I’m still not sure what to make of our new… Friendship doesn’t feel right. We’ve bonded through circumstances and horrible events, not a mutual like of anything. Come to think of it, it’s our hatred for her husband that sanctified the bond between us. She wants Neil to pay just as much as I do, and that’s our entire foundation.

I suppose there’s also a whole heap of guilt on her part. I know she feels bad for how she’s treated me, for not getting me out of there, and not considering that her husband would do something to Mark. The thing is, though, I don’t blame her for any of it. After I learned that Mr. Riley—no, Neil—had Mark attacked, I never thought he would do anything else. Even after he cornered me in one of the VIP rooms, my stupid brain also thought that would be the end of it.

For the last two weeks, I’ve mentally cataloged and recalled every single interaction I’ve ever had with Neil, and hindsight is a bitch. A cruel mistress that I wish I could escape. Looking back at everything, it’s so clear how unhinged Neil is. It’s clear that he’s obsessed and unstable, which is a dangerous combination. But when everything happened, I couldn’t process everything the right way. Knowing that I played a big hand in Mark’s untimely death is my cross to bear. I might not have pointed the gun or pulled the trigger, but my actions and inactions helped load the chamber.

That’s why I’m refusing to let go of the notion that there’s something I haven’t discovered yet. Maybe I’m being dumb, but I refuse to overlook anything of importance again. That’s why, after today, I need to talk to my guys about the way Neil keeps referring to someone else. It might be nothing, or it might be everything. Only time will tell.

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