For You (The 'Burg Series) (9 page)

“Hello?”

I didn’t even hear the words, the screeching was so loud there were barely words to be heard.

But even through the phone I could feel the fury, the anguish, the blame.

“Slow down,” I said into the screeching, “what?”

“
Hacked!
” a voice I distractedly recognized as LeeAnne’s shrieked a word in my ear that made my chest hollow out again. “
Hacked!
” she repeated.

“What?” I whispered.

“His landlord was at his
fucking
house when I called. He
fucking
picked up the phone. He
fucking
told me he was
fucking
hacked up with a
fucking
hatchet.”

“Who?” I asked but I knew. I knew. I knewIknewIknewIknew.

“
Who?
” she squealed, “
Pete!
”

“Oh my God,” I whispered but the phone was sliding from my hand.

I didn’t drop it, Alec was there taking it from me. Then he was talking in my phone. I heard my Mom’s voice, my Dad’s, Morrie’s, Jessie’s, Joe-Bob’s, Sully’s. I felt hands on me.

Then I ran fast to the women’s toilets. Up came Meems’s muffin and the coffee I had at her place. Then I wretched more. And more. Nothing coming out but my body wanted me to expel something else. Something it couldn’t get rid of no matter how much I heaved. I felt the pain in my chest with the effort, the burning in the back of my throat, someone holding back my hair, me holding onto the toilet and heaving.

“Stop it, Feb,” my Mom said in my ear, she was close I could feel the heat from her body.

“I’ve got to get it out,” I gasped.

“Nothing else in there, honey.”

“I’ve got to get it out.”

Her cool hand wrapped around my hot forehead just like it did when I was a kid and I closed my eyes and focused on her touch.

I stopped heaving and sat back on my haunches.

“Go, Jessie. To the store. Toothbrush, toothpaste. Tell Morrie to bring some lemon-lime in here, a cold one, and a wet cloth.”

I heard Jessie move but I didn’t see her.

I saw a body by the dumpster, this time though it wasn’t Angie’s. It was Pete’s.

I hated him, he hurt me, he nearly raped me, my husband, but it was true. He proved what I suspected, that men were no good. There were good men, like Alec, who were no good and there were shit men, like Pete, who were no good. That was all I knew. I’d wanted him to heal the wound but I knew, partway in it with him, he couldn’t do that. Then I’d wanted him to numb the pain, but he’d only given me more then taken away all that I had left.

But I didn’t want him dead. Not any way but not
that
way.

“Feb, look at me, look at your Momma.”

I didn’t look at her, I asked, “What is it about me?”

“Honey, look at me.”

I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

Her hand came to my cheek and she tried to force me to look at her but I fought it, holding my neck still, clenching my teeth, staring at the wall.

“Honey –”

“Who’s next?”

“February, you’re scaring me,” Mom said. “I need you to look at me.”

Before I could do anything, even before I knew if I would, hands were under my armpits and I was hauled to my feet, pulled out of the stall, seeing my Mom on her knees by the toilet, her head tipped back, her eyes on some point over my shoulder, some spot higher than me.

I twisted my neck and tilted my head back too and saw Alec had hold of me.

“We need assistance here?” Sully asked, his voice nasally but the authority was still there.

I’d only ever heard that kind of authority from a cop. Teachers had a different kind. My Dad, an even different kind. Mom, even different. Teachers, Dads and Moms, sometimes you listened, sometimes you didn’t. But somehow you always listened to a cop.

“Maybe she needs to talk to someone,” Mom said, getting up slowly but I didn’t see her get to her feet.

I was jostled, brought around face to face with Alec.

“You need to talk to someone?” he asked, his body bent, his face in mine and I didn’t know what his question was about so I didn’t answer.

“Maybe she needs something to help her rest.” This suggestion came from Morrie. “She doesn’t sleep too good. Maybe we should take her to see Doc.”

“You need something to help you rest?” Alec asked like Morrie was in another room talking to Alec in an earpiece and I couldn’t hear my brother.

I didn’t answer. I just stared at Alec, stared straight into his weird but beautiful gold-brown eyes.

His hands, both of them, came to the sides of my head. His palms, so big, so warm, were at my cheeks. His fingers, so long, so strong, were covering my hair. His face, a face I’d known as a boy and I’d watched grow into a man, was all I could see.

“February, talk to me.”

I did.

But, “Alec,” was all I could get out.

Then I fell forward and did a face plant in his chest. I grabbed onto his blazer and held on.

And for the second time in two days, I cried (essentially) in Alec’s arms.

I heard Alec’s phone ring but he didn’t go for it. With my face plant, his fingers had slid through my hair and both his hands stayed where they were, curling around the back of my head, holding me to his chest.

I knew I should move away, I knew distance was paramount but I couldn’t. I was like a leech, latched onto him but instead of sucking blood, I was sucking strength.

I couldn’t talk about Pete, not even now, not with anyone, especially not with Alec. But I wanted him to know I wasn’t crying
for
Pete, I was just crying
about
Pete. No one deserved that, even though he was a dick, not even Pete.

But I couldn’t tell Alec that, or anyone.

My crying stopped but I still held onto his jacket, my face in his chest, now because I was hiding.

Alec heard the tears subside and I felt pressure at his fingertips against my scalp.

“Can you talk to me now?”

I pulled away from his hands, let him go and stepped back.

We were alone in the bathroom.

I drew in a shaky breath and straightened my spine. Then I looked at him.

“I think seeing Doc would be good. Morrie’s right, I don’t sleep great.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you sleep great?”

I felt my head jerk and answered, “Because Tuesday’s bed’s small.”

He shook his head. “You get up at seven o’clock when you don’t need to, you gotta get home after three. You get three, four hours a sleep at night. That isn’t good. Why don’t you sleep?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been workin’ bars all my life, that’s the way it’s always been.”

“No it isn’t.”

My midsection moved back like he punched me in the stomach.

He knew how I used to sleep. He’d slept over lots when we were kids. When we were teenagers all of us slept too late in the morning. It drove Mom wild but that’s the way teenagers were. When he was at Purdue and Morrie would sneak me up there to spend the weekend with him, I’d sleep with him in his tiny bed in his dorm room, hiding from the RAs. We’d sleep in late and his roommate would scope out the bathroom, call the all-clear to Alec and he’d sneak me down when it was empty. Or when he’d moved to that apartment, he had three roommates but he commandeered the top floor, the attic room with the little three-quarter bathroom in the corner. The bed was a double in that room, much better. It had a desk, lots of floor space. I loved that room, I could pretend it was our place, our world and I did. That bed was perfect, just enough space so we weren’t cramped, not enough that we didn’t have to sleep close.

I used to sleep great, he knew that.
 

I used to sleep the sleep of someone who knew she was loved.

Now, I didn’t.

“Feb, answer me.”

“I don’t know, all right?” I was sounding impatient. “Does it matter?”

“How long’s this been going on?”

Apparently, it mattered to Alec.

“Long enough I’m used to it.”

“It’s not good.”

“It isn’t
now
. Now I need to close off my mind, for awhile, just for awhile.”

He watched me in a way that it felt like he was examining me. Whatever he saw, I could tell it troubled him at the same time it angered him.

Then he reached inside his blazer and brought out my phone. He handed it to me and I took it and then his hand went right to his back jeans pocket and he pulled out his own. When he flipped it open to look at it, his eyes grew hard at whatever he saw then he hit some buttons and put it to his ear.

I looked at him but he kept his gaze steady on the bathroom floor.

Finally he said, “Leslie? It’s Colt. I need to pull a favor with Doc. He’s gotta make time for Feb Owens. She’s having trouble sleeping.” He looked at me. “Yeah? Four? Good. Feb’ll be there. Thanks.” He flipped his phone shut. “You got an appointment with Doc at four.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m not through with you.”

My mouth filled with saliva and I swallowed it down. His face was back to hard, the way it got when I called him Alec and I knew he was displeased.

He didn’t make me wait to find out why.

“You’re not gonna let me in, you’ve made that abundantly clear, but you gotta let someone in. You can’t go on like this, it’ll eat you alive. You’re makin’ your family watch, your friends, and it isn’t right. It isn’t
you
.”

“Alec –”

“Shut your mouth.”

I shut my mouth mainly because his tone was mean and he was scaring me, I felt the electricity of fear from head to toe. I’d never seen him act this way, not to me.
 

He’d been angry at me once, really angry, when I broke up with him. But even then he wasn’t like he was now.

“Christ, Feb, talk to Doc, get some fuckin’ help. You can’t deal with this shit, with Angie, with –”

He stopped talking before he said Pete’s name probably because I took an automatic step back. His gaze dropped to my feet and I saw his jaws flex, he was clenching his teeth.

Then he started talking again. “You can’t deal with all this when you aren’t dealing with whatever’s been botherin’ you since way before this shit started.” I opened my mouth to talk but he leaned in and finished. “And no, don’t try to kid me and for fuck’s sake, don’t kid yourself. It isn’t about that asshole you married and what he did to you. Whatever’s been botherin’ you started way before that and we both know it, especially fuckin’
me
.”

I felt winded at his words, the honesty at the same time him still sticking to his fucking lie. He’d never admitted it, he’d never copped to it, he’d acted like it was all me, like he’d done nothing wrong, he made me out to be the bad guy. I never accused him of it but he knew what he did and he never gave the barest hint of guilt or remorse. Now, even after all these years when I should have been over it, way over it, his words hit me on the fly and knocked the breath right out of me.

I still got out a whispered, “Alec –”

But I said no more, not that I had more to say, because he interrupted me.

“And for the
last
fuckin’ time, stop calling me Alec.” He got close, too close, and his head tipped down so he could stare at me. “You said you called me Alec because that’s who I was to you. I’m not that anymore, whoever that was, I haven’t been in a long time, so fuckin’ stop calling me Alec.”

He didn’t give me the chance to reply. He turned and walked away. I stood in the bathroom, in my tank top and jeans, holding my cell phone in my hand, staring at the door, feeling suddenly bone cold and thinking maybe he was right.

It was time to talk to Doc about what was bothering me.