“That’s fine. The FBI as well as our local department are still investigating.”
“But Carvalo is in prison?” I press.
“He’s in our local jail. He’s been remanded without bail. Is this a good number to text you where to go or would you prefer I email you?”
“No. This number is perfect. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I disconnect the call and just… let the revaluation sink inwardly for a few moments. I don’t know how to react to this. How to feel. I don’t feel much of anything still and I can’t decide if I’m grateful for that or not. This day is already so fucked up, and it isn’t even dawn yet.
I dial Keith before I can think twice about it, and his phone instantly goes to voicemail.
“Dammit Keith. I need you right now. How do I leave when you’re scaring the shit out of me? When I don’t even know where you are, and your phone is off. And what does it mean for us if I leave before you come back?”
If he’s coming back.
I inwardly shake myself at that. No. He’ll come back. He just might not want to look at me when he does. I wonder if that was it. His breaking point. If him running like that when we said no running is our end.
I puff out a breath as an errant tear streaks down my face. I quickly brush it away, forcing myself to push through this. Now is not the time to fall apart. Still, my heart festers like a diseased wound. For him and for me.
Maybe going to Brookside is what I need. A little distance. A little space to think.
I’ve been so consumed with him and this tour for the last ten days. Hell, for the month prior to that too. He’s taken up so much space in my life, in my head, in my heart.
I’m starting to think that’s a dangerous thing to have allowed him to do.
I call him again and when his voicemail instantly asks me to leave a message, I do. “Hi. It’s me. I have no idea where you are and I’m worried. I need to talk to you. About what happened earlier. About a call I got after. I need to go and you’re not here and I don’t know… I love you. I’m just going to say it so you know. I won’t be here when you return but it’s not—” The phone gives me an annoyingly loud beep in my ear, signaling the end of my allotted message.
Fine. I said what I needed to say. What he does with it is up to him.
I pull myself up and off the bed. I’m glad I showered. I’m glad I’m dressed. I don’t know if I’m glad my father is dead. It makes me feel like shit to feel some relief in his death, but it’s there. He was a horrible man who never loved me. Who made sure I knew that too.
“I’m an E True Hollywood Story cliché!”
I grab the handle of my suitcase and leave Keith’s suite behind. I may or may not bury my face in his pillow, inhaling his scent one last time but I’m in a zero-judgment zone, so I don’t even second guess it or give it an afterthought.
My knuckles rap on Henry’s door three times before he opens it up. His light hair is mussed, and his eyes are dark with sleep. He’s also not wearing any clothing. Like not even boxers. I immediately spin around so I can’t look any longer at his… whoa! I wasn’t expecting…
“You’re naked!” And huge!
“Shit,” he hisses, and then I hear a bunch of noise and even an ow or two, and then he’s back. “I’m dressed.” I turn back around, only his version of dressed means boxer briefs. I’ll take what I can get. “What’s up? What are you doing here at this hour?”
That’s when I break down into tears. For the first time since Keith woke from his nightmare. Since I got that call. My face falls into Henry’s shoulder and I let go. I shake and sob into him, not even caring if my tears are drenching him and possibly mixing with snot.
I’m a mess.
I’m scared.
I’m so heartbroken I don’t even know what to do.
Now I have to go home and deal with the FBI and my father being dead. I’m alone in this. As always, but after finally feeling like I had someone helping to hold my burden up, his absence feels especially crushing.
“What’s going on?” Henry soothes, running his hand down my hair.
“Keith woke up from a terrible nightmare. I think he was having a panic attack. He kept talking about my blood and that he couldn’t look at me. He left, Henry. He just got dressed, grabbed his phone, got in the elevator, and left. I have no idea where he is now. I tried to call him, but his phone went straight to voicemail. Then, a kid I grew up with who is now a detective calls to tell me my father was murdered by the asshole criminal I’ve spent the last year plus paying off. I have to go home to speak to the FBI.”
“Are you kidding me with this?” His arms wrap tightly around my back, rubbing up and down to comfort me further, and I’m so grateful for him right now.
“Do I sound like I am?” I half-sob, only to sniffle in and shudder. “Sorry. I’m just… I’m worried about him. I have to go to the airport. I have to go, and I can’t find him, Henry. Can you find him and make sure he gets home okay? I don’t think he wants to see me anymore. He said that. He can’t look at me. Being with me is obviously too much for him and…” I can’t do this anymore. “I need to take care of myself.”
“Maia,” Henry garbles out, his voice stricken. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll come with you. You shouldn’t be alone.”
Except being alone is all I’ve ever been.
“No. Thank you. I need to do this myself. Just find him for me, okay? I’ll… I don’t know. I’ll send for my things. I’m not even sure. I’ll be in touch.” I pull away and plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. Then I turn and leave. I ignore his yelling protests because I know if I listen, I’ll easily cave. And I can’t cave right now. I can’t.
Keith doesn’t even have his phone on because he doesn’t want to talk to me.
“I can’t look at you. I can’t fucking look at you!” That was shortly followed up by, “I can’t do it anymore!” Got it. Message received.
Part of me knew it would end like this anyway.
“Airport please,” I tell the cab driver as I slip inside. If Carvalo is in jail, then I don’t have to pay him. If that portion of my debt is gone then I can manage the rest. I just hope the guys let me continue to work for them, even if it means I’ll still have to see Keith. He told me my job was not related to anything that happens or doesn’t happen between us, and since I need this job as much as I do, I’m going to trust in that.
At least until I can find something else.
My hand and arm are all better now. My options wide open.
“What airline, miss?” the driver asks as more tears fall down my cheeks.
“Whichever one will get me out of here the fastest,” I tell him, closing my eyes and letting the car drive me away, knowing that I left my heart behind in that hotel suite.
It’s funny or maybe not… I thought I understood what it felt like to get your heart trampled on and your soul decimated by someone you love. I was wrong. This feels nothing like that. This feels like devastation. So much more than heartbreak. This level of pain makes me wonder if I’ll ever be right again.