Never Standing Still (The Never Duet #1)(72)

Then I heard him right up against the door, just on the other side.

“His death isn’t your fault, Kal, baby. It’s not. But if you push me away, if you give up on us, that will be your fault.” He was quiet for a moment, apart from the cries I heard coming quietly from him. “I’ll never leave you,” he sobbed.

I listened to him crying on the other side of my door for a while, eventually removing the pillow and absorbing the sound. A part of me wanted to hear him cry, was comforted a little by the fact that he was upset about losing me, but not enough to change my mind or open the door to him.

I was very aware of the fact that if I opened the door, if I let him touch me, I’d lose my ability to keep myself from him. No, he needed to go.

“Go away, Riot,” I whispered into the empty room, knowing full well he couldn’t hear me. But I repeated myself, each time getting louder and louder.

“Go away, Riot.”

Louder.

“Go away, Riot.”

Louder.

“Go away, Riot!”

Louder.

“GO AWAY!”

I was screaming, could feel the oxygen burning in my lungs, the blood rushing to my face.

“GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!”

I screamed until I nearly fainted, until there was nothing left in me to push out, until every part of me was empty. I literally screamed myself to sleep.

When I woke, I left my room and was welcomed by an empty and dark house. Empty, that was, except for Nancy, who was sitting on my couch. She looked just as ruined as I felt. We looked at each other for a moment, words unnecessary; we were both irrevocably broken. After a beat or two, I opened my mouth to speak, surprised by the sound of my harsh and strained voice.

“Is he gone?”

Nancy just looked at me for a moment. Then, in words I’d probably remember for the rest of my life because they felt heavier than anything she’d ever said to me, she answered.

“Yes, dear girl. He’s gone.”





Epilogue


Riot


I straightened my tie in the mirror, trying to fix something that was unfixable. There was nothing wrong with my tie. There was something wrong with me, but it wasn’t something I could adjust to make right, or wiggle back into place. She was missing from me. So much hurt had drifted through my life in the last week, but nothing had hurt worse than hearing her, broken and weak, screaming at me to leave, to go away.

I sighed, giving up on my mission to fiddle with my suit. It wasn’t a fashion show. It was a funeral. No one would care if my tie was slightly crooked.

It had taken me three days in Kalli’s house to realize that my being there was just hurting her more, adding to her pain. It took every ounce of strength I had to leave her there, and honestly the only reason I could walk away was because she so desperately wanted me gone.

My phone rang and I saw it was my agent again. After I’d jumped on the first plane to Seattle, I’d had to explain to the studio why I wouldn’t be back for filming the next day, or the next week for that matter. Usually, this would mean a cut from the show I was working on. The studios don’t wait for anyone, especially a newbie like me. But luckily, the writers were invested in my storyline and the producers found a way to work around my absence, filming scenes without my character. My agent was calling to remind me that if I wasn’t back at the soundstage tomorrow morning I would be replaced.

I silenced the ringer, sending him to voicemail, and then shoved my phone in my pocket, grabbed my keys and bag, and headed to the lobby of the hotel to check out.

Forty-five minutes later I was walking into Marcus’ funeral, which had started a few minutes prior. I knew Kalli wouldn’t want me there, so I purposefully came a few minutes late, hoping to just sneak into the back of the church unnoticed.

The front of the church was filled with flowers, all surrounding a pedestal with an urn atop it. Next to the urn stood a large picture of Marcus, his face shining with a bright smile, sitting on an easel. He looked just like a seventeen year old young man, but also so much like a child. Perhaps it was because I knew him, because I understood that even though he looked like he was nearly an adult, he was so innocent and pure, so childlike.

A small smile came over my face as I also thought about how stubborn he could be, how he was a sore loser and a gloating winner, all our games of Monopoly coming to mind. He was an expert Mario Kart driver. He was so much more than that picture or even that urn could hold. And I felt lucky I’d had the opportunity to know him, even for such a short while.

My eyes drifted to the front row of pews and I spotted Kalli’s auburn hair. My heart lurched at the sight of her, my eyes begging to see her face, my arms aching to hold her, to comfort her. Her shoulders were low, sagging, and every once in a while I saw them shake, and I knew she was crying.

To Kalli’s right sat Nancy, and next to Nancy was Bob. On the other side of Kalli was Ella and I was at least relieved that her friend was there for her. I saw Porter, Megan, and who I assumed was her fiancé sitting next to her as well. My body relaxed a little seeing Kalli surrounded by people who cared about her. Even though she wouldn’t let me near her, wouldn’t let me love her in the way I wanted to, at least she had a support system. She had people she could lean on, if she allowed herself to lean on anyone.

I shook my head at her stubbornness, thinking of how it must have been a family trait. Next a wave of sadness came over me with the realization that she had no family left. After the sadness came the longing, because I desperately wanted to be her family. I had, in fact, thought we were halfway there, working toward becoming a family, when tragedy struck, sending Kalli back down the rabbit hole.