Page 76 of In Her Eyes

I hang up.

Chapter36

Avalon

The screenon my phone goes dark. I knew this would happen. There was so much pain in the glimpse I got about his sister. I told him the truth. I don’t know anything else. Only that she disappeared years ago, and he feels guilty about it. But I don’t know why.

There’s a soft knock on the bathroom door. “Ava? Can I come in?”

I drop my head against the cold tile and close my eyes to keep the tears at bay. “Come in.”

The door handle jiggles and opens slowly, and Lynn’s head pops in, her eyes wide. She walks in and sits on the closed toilet bowl. “Strange place for a nap.”

I try to smile and fail. My lips tremble, and the tears come rushing down my cheeks.

Lynn grabs a hand towel and gives it to me. I bury my face in it and have a good cry.

She shifts, lays a hand on my shoulder, and rubs back and forth. “Let it all out.”

I do. I cry. Sobs wrack my body. My chest constricts and makes it hard to breathe. I cry until the sobs turn into coughing and I choke on despair, pain, loss, fear, and hopelessness. This is not my pain alone. These aren’t my tears alone. I share in the loss of each of those missing women. It’s their tears and pain my body expels. Their wails move through me. I’m their gateway to freedom. I’m their salvation. And their last hope.

I cry until my eyes swell shut, and my head pounds with the stabbing of a thousand ice picks.

Everything goes hazy and muted. There’s a gentle hand guiding me out of the bathtub and down the short hall. A glass of water and painkillers are thrust at me. A soft voice tells me to take the pills, and everything will be all right. I want to believe her.

Lynn tucks me into bed and wraps a blanket around me. Her hand rubs my back. I inhale deeply and my chest aches like I've run a marathon. Sleep takes me in, and I welcome the dark oblivion.

* * *

The whisper of hushed voices reaches me through the stupor of restless sleep. The sounds are muffled and distant. I try to open my eyes, but they are glued shut. My entire body aches. My stomach protests at the slightest movement, but my dry mouth thirsts for water. I rub a hand on my face, pry one eye open and then the other. I blink away the haziness in my vision. The room is dark. And behind the closed curtains, no light peeks through the small gap. The soft reddish light from the alarm clock shows 9:42 p.m. I’ve slept for hours. On the nightstand, a water bottle and Tylenol await me. I prop myself on an elbow and drink half the water and then take two pills, washing them down with the rest of the water.

Light filters from under the closed door. And the whispers sound more urgent now. I drag myself to a sitting position and drop my feet to the floor. The room spins.

My stomach grumbles and reminds me I didn’t eat dinner. I’m still thirsty, and my bladder is uncomfortably full. I stand up with my arms out for balance, giving myself a moment to adjust. I take slow steps to the door and listen. Jake and Lynn are talking, but I can’t make out the words. I open the door as quietly as I can and spy through the one-inch gap. They are in the kitchenette. I slide through the door unseen and into the bathroom. But when I lock the door, the voices stop.

I turn on the light and immediately regret it. I cover my eyes and wait, peeking through the gaps between my fingers until I can fully open my eyes. I use the toilet, flush, turn on the faucet, and wash my hands, then my face. Brush my teeth. Reach for a towel. Look in the mirror. Gasp at my reflection. My face is puffy, and my eyes are slits behind swollen lids. My hair is a tangled mess. I run my fingers through it. Reach for a brush and tame it somehow. I look at the rest of me. Faded baby blue cotton T-shirt and shorts. Worn soft from many washes.

Outside, they are silent still. Waiting for me. How long can I stay here before one of them comes after me? Five minutes? Ten? I give myself one last look in the mirror and open the door.

Jake and Lynn wait for me at the end of the short hallway. Lynn’s wringing her hands. Jake’s leaning on the wall, arms crossed. Regret replaces the worry on his face as soon as his gaze lands on me. The neutral cop face is gone. His every thought is clear to see in those mismatched eyes. Sky and sea.

Lynn opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, Jake steps in front of her, and a second later, I’m in his arms. His whole body wraps around me. He lifts me until I’m on tiptoes. His head cradled in my neck, his rough cheek against mine. The heat of his skin warms mine. His familiar scent fills my lungs and shifts the weight in my chest. It's easier to breathe. My arms go around his shoulders, and I fist a hand into his hair and pull him closer. We stay wrapped in each other’s arms. Behind us, the sound of soft footsteps walking away is followed by the clicking of the bedroom door closing. We’re alone in the hallway now.

He nuzzles my hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I squeeze him tighter. Then pull away so I can see his face. I palm his cheek. Whiskers prick at my skin. I rub a thumb over his lips, and he closes his eyes at the contact. I kiss him. I kiss him because I can’t think of a single word that could express how I feel. I kiss him because I need to feel his lips on mine and know that he’s real, and despite every horrible thing happening around us and all the obstacles ahead, we have somehow found our way to each other. And if there’s no future for us, I can at least have now. And I’ll take everything I can.

Chapter37

Avalon

He picksme up and carries me to the living room. Sets me on the couch in a nest of pillows. He dims the lights and grabs a blanket. He sits next to me, pulls my legs over his lap, then covers me with the blanket. One of his hands is around my calf and the other between mine.

His gaze searches my face. I fight the urge to hide. Every emotion is etched on my face, in the puffiness of my eyes and the redness of my skin. I’m raw and exposed. But his gentle touch and searching eyes are a balm to my soul. He’s not hiding from me anymore.

Is this it? Is he finally accepting me wholly and fully? Not trying to compartmentalize the parts of me he can accept and tolerate the parts he can’t?

I lace my fingers with his. “Tell me what’s happening.”

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