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Contrary to what I expected, my Aunt Emma helped me sort through all their stuff.
It actually broke the ice for us, in a way. Our relationship improved dramatically. Behind my aunt’s coldness is a surprisingly understanding woman. When she heard what happened in Denver, she broke down in my arms. Her attitude changed. Everything that happened helped bring us together. For the first time in a long time, she has really acted like a family member, supporting me, letting me talk to her about anything and everything to clear my head. In fact, she has been taking care of me for the last three months.
Agnes doesn’t quite understand this new connection. But she doesn’t know the whole truth. I want to preserve her as much as possible.
I have spent the last three months learning to live with new memories, not necessarily pleasant ones, but they are part of me. I am stronger now. I am free of my past, free of any connection to my parents’ killer.
Leaving Denver was the right thing to do, but I would be lying if I said it was easy. It’s not easy when someone comes back to haunt you every minute of every day.
I needed to get out of town, to get away from it all. To rebuild myself. But my rebuilding is not complete. I miss Tucker, damn it. I miss him more than I should. A part of my heart has stayed with him. I know I should try to ignore it, but it’s hard.
I snap out of my thoughts as I walk into my new—and tiny—bathroom.
“Agnes!” I yell as I find her soaked shirt on the tile floor. “I told you before that your clothes should not be used as a mop.”
I know she can hear me because she’s in the small living room a few feet away, but she keeps her eyes on the TV, pretending to be innocent.
“No, carry on; it’s fascinating!” I mumble, throwing the laundry into the basket. “You’ll end up killing me.”
She still doesn’t say anything, but a small smile appears on her face.
Little devil.
I walk towards my room, stifling a yawn. The bar I got a job at is super nice, but the hours are pretty random. I need a good shower and twelve hours of sleep.
As I walk into the room and turn on the lamp next to my bed, the doorbell rings. I frown as I stare at the clock. 9:17 p.m.
“I’m going to open the door!” shouts Agnes.
“Check who’s there before you open the door! It must be Aunt Emma.”
She must have made a mistake and thought my little sister was sleeping at her place tonight. Agnes spends every weekend here but lives with her the rest of the time.
“So who is it?” I shout to my little sister.
She doesn’t answer me, so I listen carefully. I stopped looking behind my back to check that no one was following me, I’m not afraid anymore, but I’m still careful.
I come out of my room, eager to check on my little sister. There she is, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest with a devilish grin on her face.
“Who was that? I don’t—”
I lose my words as I discover who is standing on my doorstep.
Tucker.
This can’t be…what is he doing here? In my new apartment?!
I had sent him a message when I arrived in Portland to tell him that everything was OK. And he answered me immediately. But afterwards, I held back with all my might because I knew it would be too hard. I tried to forget him, but I couldn’t. Tucker came to haunt my every dream. I was unhappy despite my little sister’s presence, unable to move on.
Could he, on the other hand? I’ve asked myself that question many times, but I think I have my answer tonight.
Because here he is…in front of me.
And it’s no longer a dream. This is reality.My reality.
“Tucker…” I whisper in his direction. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He takes a step towards me without saying anything and frowns, as if he didn’t really know what he was doing here. I stare at him helplessly. His hair is a little longer than when I left him. He’s put on some muscle. But his gaze…his gaze remains the same, intense and entirely focused on me. He looks like a wild beast ready to jump on its prey, and I am the prey.
