Blurred Truth (The Blurred Series Book 2) (17 page)

Natalie

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Oh, my God!

It has to be him. There’s no one else it could be.

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for, for over a month. Finally, proof that he’s alive. Proof that he could still come back to me.

What if he doesn’t want to come home?

That could be what awaits me in this message. Him telling me goodbye. That he’ll never see me again. That this isn’t home for him anymore.

Suddenly, I don’t know if I want to open the message. I’ve worked really hard to pull myself together. I’m living again. What’s in this message could take me back to square one.

No, it won’t. I won’t let it.

I need to know what he has to say. The thought of this message just sitting in my inbox will eat away at me. I won’t be able to think about anything else until I let curiosity win, so I may as well just get it over with.

Besides, he could be professing his undying love for me in this message, and telling me he’ll be home soon.

From: OffLand18 at 01:04am

1:04am this morning? That’s a weird time. And now I’m cursing the fact that Calli gave me the morning shift today. If I hadn’t had to get my butt down to the café at six, I would have had time to check the chat room, like I usually do every day when I wake up.

Okay, so I know that’s not the healthiest of habits, but it’s keeping me sane...sort of. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Get out of the apartment. Right now. There’s no time to explain. Go to Elliott’s or anywhere but that apartment. Take Nate with you. Please Natty. Leave now!

I’ll find you.

I’ll find you.

His last words echo in my brain before the rest of the message registers, causing my stomach to drop.

What the hell is going on?

Confusion sets in before the fear does. Of all the things I thought his message could say, of all the scenarios I’ve created in my head, this is so far from one of them, and I was completely unprepared for it.

What should I do now? Think. Think!

It’s like my brain is moving in slow motion, unable to catch up with what my body should be doing.

Assessing the situation, I know that it’s been more than twelve hours since he sent me that message, but if he meant for us to get out twelve hours ago, why hasn’t whatever we’re supposed to be getting away from happened yet?

Nate’s at work, so he’s safe. I make a mental note to call him as soon as I’m safe, too. Make sure he doesn’t come back to the apartment until Ryan finds us and says it’s safe.

What’s happening?

I feel the all-too-familiar feeling of anxiety begin to pump my heart faster, causing blood to rush so violently around my body that I can hear my own pulse.

Throwing the laptop in my satchel, in case Ryan tries to contact me on the chat room again, I rush to the living area, grabbing my keys from the breakfast bar.

It’s then that the front door bursts open and my heart stops.

Ryan

No matter how hard I push, the bike won’t go fast enough.

I have to get to her.

Grayson is overseas, half his guys there with him, half back in my hometown with that damn P.I.

No one in the vicinity to get to them before Sykes does.

I would have called until Nate or Natty picked up, if I hadn’t thrown the damn phone against the wall in a fit of rage, shattering it on impact.

The fastest way to get the message to them was via the chat room. No time to stop at a payphone, and even if I had, I would have had to dig into my memory for one of their cell numbers, since I didn’t have them written down.

Stupid.

I can only hope that Natty would have checked her messages first thing this morning. I’m counting on her mildly-obsessive personality that I’ve always found so endearing.

If she did, then they’ll definitely be safe now. There’s no way Sykes would have gotten there by then, unless he got a flight, but since leaving the state is a parole violation, I’m counting on him driving.

When I pull up outside the apartment building -
home
- I don’t even take the time to park the bike, just dropping it to the asphalt.

That’ll leave a mark and I don’t even care.

I take the stairs two at a time, praying I’ll find the place empty, my heart beating frantically in my chest. The other part of me wishing that I’ll just wake up in my bed, realizing the last month has been nothing but another bad dream, and going out to the living room to find Natalie curled up on the couch with one of her books.

When I finally burst through the front door, my heart stops.

No.

How did he beat me here? It’s not fucking possible!

FUCK!

Sykes swings around to face the door when he hears me burst in, bringing Natalie around with him. He has her by the throat, her back to his front like a human shield.

Pointing a gun at her temple.

“Let. Her. Go,” I say as calmly as I can manage, with warning lacing every word.

“Ryan!-”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” Sykes cuts through Natty’s plea, tightening his hold on her throat so she can barely breathe.

Anger and fear course through my veins in equal measure. How am I going to save her?

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m gonna do that, boy. You see, you crossed me. I warned you not to, but you did it anyway, and now you’re gonna pay. I’d like it to be a loved-one for each year you stole from me, but you just don’t have enough people who care about you to add up.

“I already got three. This one and her brother will make five. And I think the rest of the years can be made up for when I kill
you
.”

“Three?” I ask, confused, but slowly coming to the realization myself before he even voices what he’s done.

Mom.

Sykes chuckles, that menacing sound from my childhood that sends a chill down my spine.

“I know you don’t think a drunk-driver ran the Connors off the road, boy. You’re smarter than that.”

Natalie gasps as she realizes exactly what he’s saying, and her eyes go wide.

“You killed my parents?” she croaks out, despite the grip Sykes has on her throat.

“Yeah, I did. Those meddlesome parents of yours stuck their noses where they ought not to have been, little girl. They teamed up with Ryan here to put me away for a long time, and now I want payback.”

She doesn’t respond to that. I just see a tear stream down her face as reality sets in.

I feel wetness on my own cheek and it’s then that she mouths,
“I love you,”
silently across the room to me so that Sykes can’t hear.

I can’t do the same for her. He’ll see, and then he’ll really know how much she means to me, and we can’t afford for him to know the depth of my feelings for her.

“And that whore mother of yours, Ryan,” he cuts through my thoughts. “She begged for her life in the end. Did you know your asshole father’s in jail now? We had a nice heart-to-heart before I got out. If you’re curious, being off the booze didn’t change his feelings about you.” There’s that chuckle again, but this time, instead of a chill, it just makes me angry.

I take a few steps closer, unthinking, and Sykes pushes the gun into Natalie’s temple again, causing her to wince.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, boy.”

I stop in my tracks, realizing how easily he could pull that trigger, ending Natalie’s life, and
my
life, right along with it.

“Listen. I understand why you’re upset, but I was just a kid. You can kill me if that’s what you want, but please, just let her go.”

“No,
you
listen,” Sykes says, pointing the gun in my direction to make his point. “I don’t want you dead, boy. Not yet. I want you to
suffer.
Like I’ve suffered!” His rage is making him careless now. He’s letting emotion dictate his actions.

If I could just get a little closer.

Then, just as he’s about to continue his rant, still pointing the gun in my direction, Natalie makes her move.

Natalie

With the panic having morphed into adrenaline now racing through my body, I take advantage of the fact that this guy’s gun isn’t pointed at my head any longer, elbowing him so hard in the ribs, I think I hear my own bones crack.

“Ah, you bitch!” he yells, as he doubles over momentarily, loosening the grip on my throat just enough for me to pull out of his grasp.

Acting on nothing but instinct, I run to Ryan, not knowing where else to go. The guy still has his gun held firmly in his hand.

He’ll kill us both.

“Ryan!” I cry as I reach for him.

He reaches for me with surprise and relief in his eyes, before pulling me into him, his comforting arm around my waist whilst his other hand cups the back of my head, holding me to his warm chest that’s heaving with each labored breath he takes.

The relief is short-lived, when I feel his entire body tense with fear.

“No,” he whispers before swinging me around so that his back is facing in the direction of the intruder.

That’s when I hear the sound of gunfire.

* * *

Ryan

I hear a second shot ring out soon after the first one hits me somewhere in my back, the force of the blow jolting me forward and forcing me to release Natalie from my hold. I drop to my knees, unable to stay standing, and look up to see Natalie’s horrified expression, moments before I collapse to the side and onto my back.

I wish I’d collapsed forwards, because lying on my back causes the pain to intensify so much, I think I might pass-out before I bleed-out.

“Oh, my God! No!” I hear Natalie cry as she drops to her knees next to me. At least I think that’s what she does.

Everything’s kind of blurry now.

I feel her touch my face with her soft hand, and then I feel her lips on mine, tasting the salt of her tears mixed with my own. A feeling I’ve craved for so long since I left.

“Did I save you?” I manage to whisper.

“Yes! Yes, you saved me. Why did you do that?!” she continues to cry.

“Where is he? Get away from here,” I croak, realizing that Sykes is still in the room with a gun.

“No, shh. It’s okay. He was shot. He can’t hurt us anymore. It’s just us now,” she coos, stroking my cheek.

I close my eyes then, relief washing through me. I don’t know who shot him and I don’t really care. I only care that I saved her.

Nothing else matters now.

“Don’t close your eyes, Ryan. Stay with me. You hear me? Open your eyes. I haven’t seen them for
so long
. Please, Ryan. Please.

“Don’t you dare leave me again! Ryan?!”

“An ambulance is on the way,” I hear someone who sounds like Grayson Knight say through the fog that’s settled around me, pulling me under.

Grayson’s here?

I try to open my eyes. I want to see Natalie’s face just one more time. I want to let her see my eyes like she asked. But they won’t open, even a little bit.

I’m so tired.

I can’t seem to form any words now, so I can’t tell her to her face how much she really means to me. I missed my chance. She’ll always wonder if I truly loved her. Why didn’t I just tell her all those times that I wanted to?

I was a coward, that’s why. I wasted so much time. Time I could have spent telling her what she deserved to hear.

I love you so much, Natalie Connor.

“Please don’t leave me.
I love you
,” I hear Natalie say through a sob, before the fog takes me all the way into the darkness.

Natalie

“Dead on arrival.” That’s what they said about the man they called
Sykes
when we reached the hospital. Grayson – a man I didn’t even know existed – killed a man, and then dealt with the police like it was all in a day’s work. He placated them by saying that we’d head to the station to make our statements at a later time – a line I’m sure never would have worked if spoken by any ordinary citizen.

Since that terrible day, I never have had to make a statement, and I haven’t heard from, or seen, Grayson Knight again.

[Compose New Message]

To: OffLand18

Merry Christmas.

It doesn’t feel at all merry without you, but Nate and I have vowed to make the best of it for each other.

I can’t believe you left me again. I don’t want to believe it.

I miss you.

I love you.

Your little dove xxxxxxxxxx

[Send]              [Delete Draft]

After hitting ‘send’, though I know it’s pointless, I head out into the living room and see Nate pouring coffee in the kitchen before I take in the vision of the seven-feet-tall Christmas tree we decorated together.

I was surprised to learn that Nate and Ryan had never bought a tree or decorations in the many years since they’d left home. Christmas was always a big deal in our house growing up, but I guess since Nate came home for the holidays every year, it didn’t really matter to him.

What about Ryan, though? He never came home. Not for one holiday since they left at the age of eighteen. That thought makes me unspeakably sad, but I shake it off and head to the kitchen for my caffeine fix.

“Merry Christmas, Little N,” Nate says as he hands me a steaming cup.

“Merry Christmas, Big Bro. Thanks.” I take the cup and give a small smile before blowing on the hot beverage to cool it enough to sip.

“So, Elliott’s still coming for Christmas dinner?” Nate asks, before taking a swig from his cup.

“Yeah. His parents went to the Bahamas for the holidays, so he’ll definitely show,” I explain. “I know Calli’s still coming. She was super excited when I spoke to her during my shift yesterday.” I’ve been working back at the café for a couple of weeks now, and it’s getting a lot easier to feign being emotionally stable, mainly because I
feel
more emotionally stable now.

What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, right?

Right.

That’s become my mantra.

“Yeah, she already texted me this morning. She’s looking forward to it,” he says with a coy smile.

I think my brother might be a little bit in love. Or a lot. But he tries not to talk about it around me, for obvious reasons.

“So, what shall we have for breakfast? I can make some pancakes and bacon. Just like old times?” I ask.

“That sounds awesome,” Nate says, as he begins retrieving the ingredients from the fridge. “Mind if I go grab a shower while you cook?”

“Nope. I’m all set.”

“Okay, see you in a few.” He pauses as he passes me and says, “This Christmas will be a good one, Natty. We’ll fill it with good memories...with our friends.”

“I know. I’m fine so long as I have my big brother,” I say before hugging him tightly.

But the truth is: it’s just a front. I don’t think I’ll ever be fine again without Ryan next to me.

This is my life right now, and I just have to suck it up and deal with it.
Be thankful for your blessings
, they say. So that’s what I’m going to do.

* * *

When Calli and Elliott arrive at around 2pm, we sip the mulled wine I prepared earlier and gather around the tree to open gifts.

“Natty, I love this. So beautiful!” Calli beams at me when she opens the floral pashmina I lovingly wrapped for her last night.

“It’s nowhere near as fabulous as this dress, Calli. It must have cost a fortune. You shouldn’t have,” I tell her as we hug our thanks.

“Nonsense. I know how to find a bargain darling.” She winks at me and I laugh.

When Elliott opens the signed copy of his favorite novel of all time, he’s rendered speechless and just stares at me with a look of awe on his boyishly handsome face.

“You’re welcome,” I say with a huge grin, so pleased that I got the gift right. Men are so difficult to buy for, sometimes.

“These are gorgeous, thank you, Elliott,” I say, kissing him on the cheek in thanks for the pretty, beaded drop-earrings he’s given me.

“You’re welcome, but now they seem really lame after your gift to me,” he says disappointedly.

“Don’t be silly. I love them.”

“Here, open mine, Natty,” Nate says, handing me a brightly gift-wrapped box.

When I rip into the gift with gusto, I have to laugh when I see the shoes that will go perfectly with my dress from Calli. I think some joint Christmas shopping has taken place.

“I’m sure it took a lot of thought on your part to pick these, Nate,” I say, waving the plumb-colored heels in front of me.

“I just pointed him in the right direction. He really does have good taste for a straight guy,” Calli laughs.

“I love them. They’re awesome. Thank you.” We hug it out, then I hand Nate’s gift to him.

I hope he likes it and it makes him happy, rather than sad. I don’t want any sadness today, despite how difficult it may be for us both.

He tears at the wrapping paper and immediately pauses when he sees the first glimpse of what I’ve made for him...or for us.

“This is… Wow.” He removes the rest of the paper and holds it up to get a better look.

I selected pictures of us, Ryan and our parents, and put them together in a beautiful collage frame I found on sale a couple of weeks ago. That’s what prompted the idea. It’s a collection of memories that mean so much to the both of us.

Some might say I should have just made it about our parents, but with Ryan not here with us, it seemed fitting to include him. He’s been a huge part of both of our lives. A brother to Nate. The love of my life. He deserves a place in the immortalization of our past.

“This is amazing. I don’t know what to say. Let’s hang it right now,” Nate says, heading to the kitchen to find the tools for the job.

We decide to hang the frame next the archway leading to the bedrooms, so that we can see it from the living room and will be greeted by it each night before bed.

* * *

Our hopes for a white Christmas were dashed when the rain came as we opened our gifts. It’s pouring outside and the gray clouds have brought darkness before the sun has even fully set. It’s dark and moody, kind of suiting the way my heart feels, despite the outward happiness I’m trying to portray.

The breakfast bar is set for four, Nate is carving the ham he lovingly prepared (just the way Dad used to) from his seat, and I’m grabbing the gravy from the stove when the doorbell rings.

“Who could that be at this hour on Christmas day?” Calli queries with mock-irritation from her seat as she scoops potatoes onto Nate’s plate.

“I’ll get it,” I say, since I’m already up.

My thoughts immediately go to Ryan, but I quickly quash my hopes when I rationalize that him being on the other side of that door is impossible.

“Holy shit!” I gasp as I bring a hand over my mouth in shock. Tears spring to my eyes, immediately, and there won’t be any hope of holding them back. “Is it really you?” I catch a sob in my hand as soon as the words are out.

“Yeah, Little Dove. It’s really me,” Ryan confirms with a half-smile. He looks sad, yet relieved at the same time.

After he woke up from the surgery to remove the bullet from the back of his shoulder, I didn’t want to pressure Ryan to talk too much about...anything. I just wanted him to heal. But when he was cleared to be released from the hospital after ten days, he up and left me again, saying he needed to
“take care of something important.”

SLAP!

I cover my face with my hands, in shame, as soon as it’s done. I can’t believe I just slapped him. I’m so not that person, no matter what I say.

“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I deserve that and so much more,” he says with melancholy lacing his deep voice.

He’s soaked to the bone. His hair, which is now a few inches longer and brushing his ears, is saturated, and the rest of him looks like he took a shower with all his clothes on; his leather jacket dripping so much he’s forming a puddle on the concrete where he stands in the hallway.

His face holds a fine sheen of moisture, and there are droplets of rain in his long stubble that’s almost a beard.

He looks different. Older, somehow. More rugged. Warn down, like he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since he left us the first time.

That makes two of us
.

I feel a presence behind me, and immediately know it’s Nate.

“Holy shit!” Nate repeats my reaction when he sees who’s standing at the door.

“There’s a lot more shit that’s holy around this place since the last time I was here, apparently. Can I come in?” Ryan asks.

“Of course, sorry. You don’t have to ask that,” I say, opening the door all the way.

“Don’t I?” he asks me seriously as he enters, brushing past me, sending goosebumps all over my neglected body.

When he sees Elliott and Calli sitting at the bar, a look of defeat washes over him. His shoulders slump and he looks back at me, then Nate, then me again.

“I’m interrupting. I should have called,” he states, flatly.

“No. No you’re not. There’s so much food to go around. You have no idea how happy we are to have you back, especially today!” I clarify, in a panic. I’m terrified he’ll walk back out that door and never come back.

He left me, nearly died, then left me again. I’m entitled to be a little over-sensitive.

“She’s right. It’s good to see you, bro,” Nate says, clapping Ryan on the shoulder that’s not currently in a sling, and then as if he can’t hold back, he grabs him in a hug. Not a macho man-hug with back slapping, but an
I-love-you-don’t-ever-do-that-to-us-again
hug. It causes more hot tears to spill from my eyes.

God! Will I ever not cry at everything?

“It’s real good to see you, too,” Ryan murmurs. “But this kinda hurts.”

“Oh, shit! Sorry, man,” Nate apologizes as he releases his hold on Ryan.

“Will dinner be ruined if I talk with Natalie in private for a minute?” Ryan asks.

“Not at all. We’ll keep it warm until you’re ready,” Nate responds with certainty.

“Can we go talk in your room?” Ryan asks me.

“I’d rather we talk in yours,” I say, quietly, and he nods, taking my hand and leading me to the archway. He pauses mid-stride when he spots the new frame on the wall, but he doesn’t comment on it; just looks intently at each picture, then resumes tugging my hand gently behind him as we make our way to his room.

A room I’ve slept in more than once since he left...the first time, that is.

We enter the room, hand-in-hand with me slightly behind him. As soon as we’re in, he turns abruptly and closes the door behind me, then pushes me against it with his body, placing his good hand next to my head. His face is inches from mine as his hips press into me, holding me in place.

“Are you with
him
now?” he asks with a fire in his eyes I haven’t seen before.

“What?! No! How can you even ask me that?” I hiss back, whisper shouting so that we won’t be heard in the living area.

“Tell me you’re still mine,” he demands, his face changing to desperation. “Tell me I really haven’t lost you.”

“You haven’t lost me. I’m yours. I never stopped being yours!”

A shiver runs through me, the intensity of the situation affecting me, physically.

“Even after everything that happened on your birthday?”

“Even after
everything
,” I state firmly.

“I love you so much, Natalie. I’m sorry I couldn’t say it before. I’m so sorry for everything. Please, tell me you love me,”

I don’t understand. I told him over and over again in the hospital when he finally woke up from surgery.

“You know I do.”

“I need to hear you say it.”

“I love you. I love you so much it hurts. It’s hurt since the day you shattered my heart and took the pieces with you,” I whisper, our lips so close we could almost kiss. Almost.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“And yet you couldn’t seem to stop.”

“It stops now. I’ll never do anything to hurt you again, baby. Never,” he promises before crushing his lips against mine.