Just a Little (5-8) (25 page)

Wanting nothing more than to go to sleep and put the day behind me, I ignored the second doorway and exited from the same one I’d come in.

I passed Luke’s bedroom as quietly as possible and reentered mine. I changed quickly, pulled the sheets back, and slid in. I closed my eyes and prayed that the night wouldn’t be the same as all the others.

But I already knew that it would.

The moment I closed my eyes…the nightmares would start again.

There was nothing I could do to stop them.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Mom?” My voice bounced off the barren walls. I glanced around the room and waited for another sign of life, but emptiness in my gut told me I wouldn’t get a response. Something was wrong… something was seriously wrong. “Dad? Luke?” I asked, and my eyes filled with tears. “What’s going on, guys? Where are you?”

I dropped my head and wiped away a single tear that had fallen to my cheek. As I opened my eyes again and stared down at my feet, I suddenly realized that I’d been standing in a dark pool of liquid.

“Blood,” I said under my breath, and then I heard my mother’s shrill scream. 

“Mom!”

I ran for the stairs as fast as I could. I didn’t know where the strength had come from, but I’d somehow fought the gravitational force that tried to paralyze my body. I fought it, and I moved so quickly that I tripped over my feet as I rushed up the staircase and closer to the sound of my mother’s cry.

I reached the second floor and darted for my parents’ bedroom, but the room was empty.

Another scream.

I followed the sound back down the steps, stopping dead in my tracks as I reached the middle of the staircase. I clung to the banister as my eyes fell to the pile of dead bodies stacked at the foot of the stairs.

Mom…

Dad…

Matt and Charlie…

Derek…

Kara…

Lonnie and Grace…

Bruno…

Luke…

All dead.

A deep laugh resounded through the room, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

Conan.

I looked up to the second floor landing, and Conan Milton stood with a smirk on his lips and his head tilted playfully to one side.

“Julie Little,” he licked his bottom lip slowly, “just like your mother… beautiful
and
stupid.”

Thursday, June 06 | 2:03 a.m.

I gasped for breath.

I sat straight up and held my chest, feeling the strong beat of my heart as it pounded like a drum.

I looked at the clock on the nightstand—2:03, right on time.

I swallowed hard and swung my legs around the side of the bed. My feet landed on the cold floor, and I stood up slowly to keep from losing my balance. Walking to the bathroom, I kept my eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary.

It was just a dream.

After I’d rinsed my face with cold water and patted it dry, I caught my reflection in the mirror and let my stare linger. My blue eyes had faded to gray beneath the bruises, and small wrinkles bracketed my tight lips.

No longer able to look at myself, I turned to leave the bathroom. My gaze fell upon the second door once again.

You know where to find me if you need anything.

I reached for the knob and let my forehead fall forward on the door.

I needed him; I did.

I needed his love, his comfort, his assurance.

But if I knew Luke—and I was pretty certain I did—he’d only be angry if I woke him up two hours before his alarm was set to go off.

I convinced myself that all I needed was a glimpse, just a tiny glance at his face to give me a little bit of reassurance. I cracked the door, and the bathroom light flooded into his dark bedroom.

I couldn’t see much, just the light as it shined on the bottom of his large bed.

I opened the door a little further and slithered through the small opening, careful not to make any noise or let too much light in. I closed the door quietly behind me, shutting out the light once and for all. I extended my hands forward and felt around as I walked in the direction of his bed.

When I finally reached the mattress, I lifted my knee and climbed up. I sensed his body nearby, though I couldn’t see it. I could hear him breathing, slow and steady. I could smell him, familiar and comforting.

I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there; that was all that mattered.

I climbed under the blankets and dropped my head against the empty pillow on the left side of the bed. As much as I wanted to reach forward, touch him, and let him know I was there, I didn’t. I simply stayed still, staring in his direction until my eyes felt heavy.

And then I fell asleep again.

Before I knew it, the sound of Luke’s alarm had my eyes snapping open. The sound wasn’t anything smooth or melodic like I normally preferred. Instead, Luke’s alarm was a series of shrill, monotonous beeps. How very
Luke
of him.

His body moved next to mine as he reached toward the opposite bedside table and killed the alarm.

He fell back against the bed and took a deep breath as he stretched his arms. His hand brushed across the top of my head, and I waited for him to jump, yell, or even punch me, but all I heard was a light snicker.

He didn’t say a word. He simply turned to his side, and I imagined he stared in my direction, but I still couldn’t see him.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, letting him know I was awake. “I just… I didn’t want to be alone.”

Luke didn’t move; he didn’t scoot forward, take my hand, or even offer a reassuring hug. He let out another slow breath, and I reached forward to find his hand. When my fingers brushed against his, he gripped them tightly.

I tried to smile, even though I knew he couldn’t see me. I didn’t want him to hear the sadness in my voice. I didn’t want him to sense my fear.

Luke had enough on his plate without having to worry about me.

“Hey,” I whispered, hoping that he’d humor one simple request.

“Hmm?”

“One last
truth
?”

He propped himself up on his elbow, and the moonlight caught his dark eyes. “Sure.”

“When did you know?” I blinked heavily.

I thought I’d have to elaborate, but a tired laugh escaped his throat, and I could tell he’d understood my question just fine.

“Well,” he sounded groggy and tired. A long yawn escaped him, and he shook his head and widened his eyes. “I’d embarrassed you—
I’m sorry, by the way
—by eavesdropping on your conversation with Matt at the café. And then you played hooky and skipped our next patrol so you wouldn’t have to see me. I came by the house to see you instead.”

I laughed as I remembered how angry I’d been when I opened the door to find him standing on the porch with a bowl of soup and a smile.

“You weren’t very nice to me that night, just FYI,” he added. “You wouldn’t even look at me; you just stomped upstairs, and I sat down to eat with Matt. He told me about your parents over dinner, and I felt like a jerk for the rude things I’d said to you. I hadn’t known, and after that I honestly thought I’d never see you again. I thought you’d quit the project and stay as far away from the station as possible. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.” He blinked a few times and his gaze drifted down to the mattress. “But then you came back. I turned the corner into the break room that Saturday morning, and you were standing there with my coffee cup in hand and a stupid grin on your lips.”

I smirked as he looked back up to me.

“I couldn’t believe how much courage you had, kid,” he met my stare. “And I don’t know… I just knew. That was the defining moment. I knew I loved you.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Thursday, June 06 | 10:00 a.m.

Luke rolled out of bed shortly thereafter.

Leaving me with instructions to stay put, get comfortable, and go back to sleep, he left the apartment to tackle his early morning, five-mile run—a masochistic torture I knew I’d never understand.

I don’t remember hearing him return; I slept right through the next six hours.

It was ten o’clock when I finally woke up, and my eyes fluttered rapidly as they adjusted to the mid-morning sunlight shining through Luke’s bedroom window.

“Ten o’clock,” I rolled over to steal a second glance at the alarm.

I buried my head in Luke’s pillow, took a deep breath, and let his familiar scent fill my lungs. A small smile tugged at the corner of my lip as I snuggled a little deeper into his blankets, and I pressed my eyes shut once again.

Six hours of dreamless sleep. I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

“Long before Piqua,” I said aloud, and then I opened my eyes again.

I didn’t put much thought into the fact that I’d finally gotten some sleep; after all, each night came with its own set of surprises. I wasn’t about to get excited about the possibility of things getting better all at once.

Sleep…

It was probably just a fluke. I couldn’t get that lucky twice.

I rolled out of bed and retrieved my overnight bags from the guest bedroom across the hall. Carrying them back to the bathroom, I shut the door behind me and tossed them in the corner. I stood in the center of the white tiled floor for a few long minutes, and I never once took my eyes off the shower stall in the nearby corner.

“You can do this, Julie,” I said quietly. Swallowing hard, I took a step forward, grabbed the silver handle, and opened the frameless glass door.

Leaning the top half of my body inside the shower stall, I turned the knob and started the hot water. Closing the door again, I backed away and sat down on the closed toilet seat.

1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10…

I leaned forward, dropped my head into my hands, and closed my eyes.

I waited for the terrible visions to strike. I kept waiting for the memories to flash before my eyes, reminding me exactly why it’d been weeks since I’d found the nerve to stand under a hot stream of water.

I listened as the water pelted the bottom of the shower stall, and I knew there was no way I’d ever find the courage to take that next step.

I couldn’t believe how much courage you had, kid. And I don’t know… I just knew. That was the defining moment. I knew I loved you.

Courage.

I scoffed and opened my eyes. Letting my stare drift toward the shower once again, I swallowed hard and stood up.

How could Luke possibly think I had a single courageous bone in my body? Didn’t he know me at all? I was the most terrified person in the world; I’d never faced my fears by freewill. Never.

I took a step forward, opened the shower door, and reached inside to turn off the water.

I pulled my bags off the floor and left the bathroom. The sinking feeling of defeat lingered in my stomach the whole way down the hallway and into the living room.

I walked to the front door with every intention of not coming back—I couldn’t handle the added stress of not having a place to clean up—but a piece of paper taped above the handle stopped me in my tracks. I readjusted the bags on my shoulder before I reached forward and took the note in hand.

Jules,

Please lock up if you go out.

–Luke

He’d taped a small key to the bottom of his nine-word note. I pulled the key off, folded the piece of paper into a square, and tucked both inside my bag. Turning the lock on the doorknob before I let myself out, I pulled the door shut behind me and left Luke’s apartment.

I considered returning to Grace and Lonnie’s house long enough to take a quick bath. But when I remembered just how put-out Lonnie had sounded the night before, I chose to consider other options.

Considering the way our argument unfolded outside the dry-cleaners’, I knew better than to think that Kara would even consider opening her door if I showed up asking for a favor.

I thought I could always use Derek’s spare key to get into his house, but that idea seemed a little too desperate. I wasn’t really sure he’d be thrilled to learn, once he finally came back, that I’d so carelessly decided that I had some kind of right to break in and violate his personal space.

No, probably not such a great idea.

So that left me with one option.

♥♥♥

“Hey,” Matt opened the door to let me in.

The walk to Bruno’s had only taken about five minutes, and I was glad that someone was there to let me inside. Matt, though, didn’t seem half as excited to see me as I was to see him.

“Hey,” I shut the door behind me as Matt stomped back to the living room. Still dressed in his pajamas and house slippers, my cousin looked as if he didn’t have the slightest bit of motivation to do anything for the rest of the day. His hair was mussed and unkempt, and the slightest bit of stubble shadowed the lower half of his face.

Coming from the girl with a giant, swollen, purple eye, I knew I didn’t have much room to talk, but Matt looked like death.

He threw himself back on the couch, kicked his feet up on a stack of pillows, and glued his eyes on the TV.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, not tearing his eyes away from the screen. “Dad said you were staying with…”

“No,” I readjusted the heavy bags on my shoulder. “She’s not really happy with me right now, so…”

“Right,” he sounded the slightest bit apologetic. He kept looking at the screen, though I’m not sure he was actually watching it. It almost seemed as though he stared for the purpose of having something to look at.

“Mattie,” I took a step forward, “do you want to talk about—”

“What are you doing here, Julie?” he asked again, this time turning around to look at me.

I couldn’t tell if the red flushing his cheeks stemmed from sadness or anger, but either way I figured it was best to just cut to the chase. Provoking an angry Little was like provoking an angry bear.

“I just needed to use the bathroom,” I nodded to the bags on my side. “Just wanted a quick bath, that’s all.”

Matt eyed the bags on my arm. A sympathetic smile crossed his lips for only a brief second.

“First door at the top of the steps,” he said, nodding at the staircase behind me. “Dad and Bruno are at the station, so no hurry.”

I squinted at him, wondering what he could’ve possibly meant by
no hurry
. Was there a reason why I
should’ve
been in a hurry?

Reading into my expression, Matt shrugged.

“I’m just telling you to take your time, Julie,” he said. “Do what you need to do, and you’ll have plenty of time to get back to Luke’s before anyone knows you were ever here.”

Matt managed a simple smile, but I could see that it hurt him to muster even that much.

I didn’t have to question how Matt knew I’d stayed with Luke. He knew me too well. If not Kara’s, then Luke’s. Simple as that.

“Thanks,” I matched his half-smile.

I turned and headed for the stairs, but I looked back to my cousin before I took a single step toward the second floor.

“Mattie,” I cleared my throat. He turned back and looked at me, and the faintest layer of moisture rested at the bottom of his eyes. Seeing the sadness creep further to the surface, I dropped my bags on the floor and returned to the living room. I approached him cautiously, unsure as to whether or not he’d take kindly to my closeness. I knelt down on the floor next to the couch, reached forward to take his clammy hand, and held his fingers tightly beneath mine.

I expected him to pull away, but he only held on with the same strength that I held him. A single tear dropped to his cheek, and I dropped my head forward and shed a few of my own.

I didn’t know what to say.

I could’ve given him a speech about how I’d been in his shoes a hundred times before. I could’ve told him that I’ve been in that place where you think all is lost, and it feels like there’s no way that it’s ever going to get better. I could’ve gone on for hours about the future and how all he needed was a little faith to know that things would get better.

But that’s not what he needed.

So I held his hand and cried with him for the next three hours.

Thursday, June 06 | 6:00 p.m.

I found Luke on the couch leaning over a pile of bills and other random junk mail. He’d transformed the coffee table into a makeshift desk; there was a spread of papers (color-coded and labeled), paper clips, a stapler, a calculator, and an electronic label maker.

He looked up as I came in, but only long enough to force a smile around the ink pen pressed between his lips.

“Hey,” I hung my purse on a nearby coat rack.

“Hey, kid,” he pulled the pen out of his mouth. He looked back down at his paperwork for a moment, and then he started sifting through the colored paperclips. He eventually found the one he’d been looking for—baby blue—and then looked back up to me. “Good day?”

Hmm… good question.

After trying to (unsuccessfully) talk myself into a shower and ending up at Bruno’s, I spent the better part of the morning talking and crying with Matt; listening to him talk about his heartache had been just as emotionally taxing as living through a break-up of my own.

Matt fell asleep on the couch sometime after four o’clock, and it was only after I was certain he was sleeping soundly that I finally went upstairs and enjoyed a long, long, long, hot bath. Bruno’s bathroom, I remembered vividly, was just as clean as Luke’s, and that made me feel a lot more comfortable with the fact that I’d stewed in his Jacuzzi tub for well over an hour.

I left Bruno’s house feeling emotionally exhausted, but physically rejuvenated. Matt still hadn’t woken by the time I left, so I left him a note of love, support, and encouragement. Then I headed out with both of my bags in tow. I used Luke’s key to let myself back in the apartment, and that pretty much brought me to….

“Yeah,” I forced a smile, “good day.”

Luke slid the clip over the paper in his hands as he looked at me, and I continued to stare at him in awe.

It struck me as a little odd that the man I’d played a friendly game of
Truth or Dare
with the night before was the same man sitting just a few feet away from me—obsessively organizing and color-coding his mail.

Lucas Reibeck had always been a bit of a mystery, and I’d never really been content with that fact. The longer I knew him, the more I felt like I didn’t know him at all. As each day passed, I only found myself longing to know all the things he didn’t want me to know. It wasn’t so much curiosity that kept me interested in Luke’s obsessive-compulsive tendencies. It was just the fact that I loved him, and I wanted to know everything about the man I loved.

I wanted to talk to him, probe him with questions.

I wanted to know how long he’d been compelled to act the way he did.

But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t say a word.

The one thing Luke had asked me—in return for his openness and honesty—was to learn to respect the fact that he wasn’t going to share every detail about his life. He felt that I had a tendency to stick my nose where it didn’t belong, and I had a hard time finding a good argument for that. Because I, Julie Little, had a
terrible
time minding my own business. Nosiness was in my blood, so it took every ounce of restraint I had to go against those natural tendencies.

Yes. I wanted to know everything about him, and it made me crazy that he didn’t want to share.
But who was I to point fingers?
It seemed a little hypocritical to get upset. I had no right to complain because I’d been doing the same thing to him all along.

I could do
exactly
what I’d been instructed to do, exactly what Dr. Norwood had asked—open up, divulge my deepest, darkest secrets, and wait idly by while he formed some kind of response.

How would that help? There were so many risks that came with honesty.

What if I opened up and confided in him? What if I told him everything I’d told Dr. Norwood, everything that I’d told Grace? Would
he
finally be comfortable enough to talk to
me
? Would
he
let
me
in? Or would he just sit there and stare, unable to come up with any kind of response? Would he finally realize just how toxic I was and ask me to leave? Would it be too much for him?

I pulled my purse off the coat rack again, carried it across the room, and sat down on the couch next to Luke.

He kept his eyes fixed on me as I reached inside the largest purse pocket and dug around. Through countless receipts, candy wrappers, and a few too many tubes of lip gloss, my fingers finally brushed across the one thing I’d been searching for.