The Breakaway (28 page)

“Oh.” He turned away. His shoulders dropped as he pulled his hands from his pockets and folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t know why, but I guess I thought things would be the same. Crazy, huh?”

Her heart did an unexpected flip. His shoulders were strong and broad. She remembered his arms closing around her, cradling her on her bed as he whispered in her ear that he would love her forever, take care of her, keep her safe—all the things Jesse had told her as he pulled her to his chest with the same careful promises breathed so softly against her skin. At least back then she had felt things like anger and passion. At least it was
something.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve heard a lot about what happened to you, but I don’t know if any of it is true. Nobody’s told me anything. I’ve watched the news reports, but what I’ve heard sounds so crazy.” He bit his lip and tears filled his eyes. “Oh, baby, I was hoping you would let me help you get through this. I was hoping—”

“I don’t love you,” she blurted, leaning forward in her chair. “I’m not sure I ever did.”

She had to look away. How could she do this to him? He was still so obviously consumed with her. She didn’t know what she was feeling. Anger? Sadness? Whatever it was, it wasn’t love—nothing like what she felt for Jesse. He had made her happier than she had ever been in her life.

Until he let her go.

Now she was alone and sure she would never be happy again. She didn’t even know what the hell “happy” meant.

Brad wasn’t crying yet, but he was close. She had never seen him cry before.

“I still love you,” he whispered. She noticed his fingers twitching into fists. Not angry fists, she hoped. Frustrated.

“I’m sorry—it’s been a long time, Brad. I thought you would have moved on by now. I thought you would have ....” She couldn’t finish the sentence, but the word clung to her mouth like a bitter taste. She thought he would have changed, but he hadn’t. He was exactly the same.

He leaned down to take her hands in his. She didn’t stop him, and let him to pull her to her feet. His touch was pleasant against her skin. She had forgotten how he could make her feel when he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her—like he was doing now—ever, ever so sweetly, his mouth like hot sugar on her lips. She melted against him, lost for a moment in an unsettled sort of stupor. Feeling. Emotion.

She had forgotten.

Then she remembered his fist coming at her, his hand in hers as they walked toward a bonfire in the dark, his arm tight around her as he took a swig of beer and looked angrily at Damien.

She tried to pull away, but he only kissed her harder. She broke into a sweat. Jesse had never once hit her. He had kidnapped her, but she had never felt trapped by him. Even when he held her, she was free.

Not like now with Brad’s arms tightening around her waist, his kiss more passionate until he pulled away, smiled, and whispered, “See, I told you. Nothing’s changed. We’re supposed to be together, because you wouldn’t have kissed me like that if you didn’t want me. You’ll always want me.”

With a furious growl, she stepped back and hurled a fist into his face as hard as she could.

He stumbled backward.

“What ... what was
that
for!” Gasping, he touched his cheek and stared at her with a slack jaw and widened eyes. Thunder rolled through the air as a breeze picked up across the dunes, blowing sand through the tall grass.

Hot from the adrenaline, her body seemed to echo the thunder—low, guttural, and angry.

“You’ve always done this to me!” she yelled, trying to control the anger in her voice, but failing. It didn’t matter. She could be angry with him. He deserved it! And it felt good.

She let her voice get louder.

“You make me feel helpless. Do you understand? Every time I thought about you, for an entire year, I realized it more and more. I hated it. I hated knowing that I felt more trapped with you than I ever did with them. It took me a freaking year to figure out what a complete jerk you are. All you’ve ever cared about is controlling me to make yourself happy.”

There. She had finally said it.

He dropped his hand from his cheek and straightened his shoulders. “I think I already knew that.” He lowered his eyebrows and stepped forward as if to strike back at her and then froze. A tear fell down his cheek as he turned away.

The thunderclouds rolled closer, releasing a few raindrops onto the deck. Naomi stared at the wet spots as she unclenched her fists and looked up at Brad’s back, wondering if she should have hit him. Her knuckles started to throb. It felt spectacular. She had no idea it could feel that good to stand up for herself.

“It rained last time I was out here,” he said calmly, but his body was tense. She stepped back as she noted his squared shoulders twitching with anger. His hands were pulled into fists at his sides.

“I was with your mother,” he continued. “I told her you were accepted to Harvard. She had no idea.”

Naomi kept her eyes on his fists. They began to relax. No, she hadn’t told her mother about Harvard. Was that what she wanted to do with her life now? Go to school? Would that make her happy?

Brad turned around, regaining his composure. “There’s something you should know before I leave. That guy the FBI’s still looking for ... the one who let you go ....”

Her eyes widened. “Jesse?”

“Yeah, that’s him. It’s really bizarre. I found out last week his dad is my English professor.”

Her heart almost stopped. Rain clouds split open and released a heavy, pelting rain. The world, so gray and dark a moment earlier, turned a pale shade of green.

XXXI

KAREN HEADED TO THE KITCHEN FOR A CUP of coffee. She drank a lot of coffee lately, especially after she tried to talk to Naomi and got no response except a frown and drooping shoulders. It happened day after day, and it was dragging her down. Jason was more patient than her. He simply shrugged and said it would take at least a year for Naomi to adjust back to normal.

“What’s normal?” Karen muttered to herself as she started the coffee maker. It wasn’t normal for her to make her own coffee. It wasn’t normal for her to worry about her daughter every five minutes. It wasn’t normal that Naomi had come home alive. It was a miracle any of these things had happened.

She looked up at the sound of voices outside. When she peeked out the window she saw Naomi on the deck with Brad. She froze. She hadn’t expected Brad to show up so soon. They had stopped talking and were now kissing. Passionately.

That could be good or bad.

Embarrassed to be watching, Karen started to look away right as Naomi stepped back and slammed a fist into Brad’s face.

What on earth?

Shocked, Karen rushed into the dining room where a pair of French doors led to the deck. Then she stopped. Should she interfere? She decided to linger in the shadows instead and watched as Brad touched his cheek, fury sweeping across his face. For a moment it looked like he might hit Naomi, and Karen prepared herself to rush forward and yank open the door, but she didn’t need to worry.

Naomi was yelling at him now, and something shifted inside Karen. She remembered staring up at the Harvard poster in her room every night before bed. She had held on to that dream for so long that it buried the smell of her mother’s cigarettes and the sound of her constant complaining. Had Naomi done the same? Had Brad been her dream? She hated to think of where that might have led, because as Naomi had admitted more to the counselors in the past few weeks, it had become apparent how abusive Brad had been in the past.

Now Naomi needed her.

She rushed forward once again, eager to do her part and order Brad to leave. She stopped, her hands trembling. Naomi didn’t need her. She was holding her ground just fine, the way she stood with her shoulders thrust back, the fiery look in her eyes. She reminded Karen of her own strength. Why didn’t that surprise her?

She watched Brad walk down the stairs and out to the beach, and then opened the doors. It was starting to rain, but she stepped out anyway. Naomi turned around.

“Mom.”

“Hi, honey.” She closed the door. “Anything you want to talk about?”

Naomi shook her head and crumpled into the chair, burying her face in her hands. Karen rushed to her side. “What can I do?”

She looked up, tears streaming down her face. “He knows Jesse’s dad. I have to go see him. He’s in Berkeley.”

Jesse. Karen tried not to cringe. “Honey, that’s ....” She couldn’t find the words. She didn’t want Naomi making connections with her kidnappers in any way yet. Seeing Jesse’s father would only slow her progress.

Naomi sighed. “That’s
what?
You don’t think I should?”

“I think you should be cutting those strings.”

Naomi stared down at her hand. Her knuckles were red from punching Brad’s face. Karen reached out to touch her, but she backed away. “I really want to see him.”

Blinking, Karen stood and watched the beach grass bend in the wind, rolling like waves. She felt Naomi’s presence, soaked it in like the rain falling down on them. When all was said and done, she had finally learned that when it came to Naomi, nothing else mattered except one thing.

“I’ll always be here to help you no matter what you decide,” she said, looking down at Naomi with a smile, resolving to live by those words. “That’s what I’m here for.”

KAREN HAD never driven to Berkeley before, but it seemed simple. It would take a little over two hours, a good amount of time to spend with Naomi. She glanced at her in the passenger seat, her legs crossed Indian-style, her feet bare. She never wore shoes anymore. She was listening to her iPod, one of the only things she did besides sleep and read and stare out at the ocean.

The day was overcast. The sun kept drifting out from the clouds, bright and glaring. Karen slipped on her sunglasses as Naomi pulled out her earphones and gave her a gentle smile.

“Thanks again, Mom. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”

She shook her head. “It’s alright. You just relax.” She rubbed her thumb along the steering wheel. “I’m not sure I understand why you want to see this man.”

“I’m not sure either.” She twisted the earphones in her lap until they resembled a pretzel. “I’m glad you called him for me. I don’t think I could have done that. I need to see him face to face.”

“Why, honey? He won’t be able to tell you where his son is, if that’s what you’re hoping. He sounded like an intelligent man. I’m sure he knows better than to keep in touch with a wanted criminal.”

“Don’t call him that.”

“But that’s what he is. You and your counselors have talked about this. You can’t keep hoping things will work out with him.”

Naomi’s lips clamped shut. Karen could see the hope in her face, in the way her fingers tensed whenever Jesse was mentioned. She was in love with him. At least what she thought was love. The poor girl had no idea, but how could Karen tell that to a nineteen-year-old who thought she had experienced everything already? How could she help her see her life had barely begun? She tried to think back to when she was nineteen, but the only thing that came to mind was her mother’s death and her love of art consequently fading to be replaced by classrooms and studying the law.

She squeezed the steering wheel and chewed on her bottom lip. Ever since Naomi was born, she had avoided every possible situation where Naomi could get angry with her for being too concerned and nosy. Her own mother had pried too much, and it had created a breach of trust. Karen didn’t want that for Naomi. The problem, of course, was now the opposite. Naomi had grown up thinking she didn’t care at all—and in a lot of ways, she hadn’t. But now she did. She relaxed her hands.

“Naomi, honey, I know you think you’ll see him again, but even if you do, even if he manages to contact you, you’ll have to ... you know ....”

“Turn him in?”

She tightened her grip and said loudly, “Yes. Turning him in would be the right thing to do—the only thing to do. If you don’t, I can’t even begin to tell you the trouble you’d land yourself in.”

“I know, Mom.” She turned to the window and untwisted the earphones. She was about to put them in her ears again when Karen cleared her throat, suddenly desperate to reach her. She couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Does he love you, Naomi?”

She paused, the earphones halfway to her head. “What?”

“Does he love you?”

Silence. She lowered the earphones and stared out the window. Minutes passed, but Karen wasn’t going to say anything else. In fact, she was beginning to doubt her decision to ask such a question when Naomi finally turned to her with teary eyes.

“I don’t know.” She lowered her eyes to her lap. “Sometimes I ask myself why he let me go. Sometimes the answer is because he loves me.”

Karen waited for her to continue, but she only shoved the earphones back into her ears and stared out the window until they pulled onto the street where James Sullivan lived.

It was a quiet road lined with brightly colored apartment buildings and neatly kept trees. Naomi was suddenly attentive, her shoulders squared and tense as she pulled out her earphones and slipped the iPod into her pocket.

“He said it was the yellow building with a green truck out front,” Karen said, studying the surroundings as she slowed to five miles an hour. She saw the green truck and pulled up behind it.