Where Silence Gathers (Some Quiet Place #2)(67)

“Do you regret what you did to Mrs. Foster?” Forgiveness asks after a moment. Today his voice reminds me of bells. Though still gentle, it’s harsh and clanging to my ears. Just like the town clock, always ticking in the distance. Reminding me that there isn’t much time left. Nate Foster is leaving and I still haven’t kept my promise to Dad and Mom and Hunter. And myself.

“Yes,” Guilt says. I scowl and shake her off. She smirks and disappears from view. I turn to stare at the creek again, but I know Forgiveness is watching me instead of the water, waiting for me to tell him.

If only there were some middle ground. There’s no such thing as halfway or middle or between, though. There’s only what is and isn’t.

Forgiveness hesitates. “Alex—”

“You know, I missed the part where you became my therapist. Just leave it alone,” I snap. If I let him say too much, he’ll find a way through my resolve. He always does. Forgiveness starts to reply, of course, but the sound of my phone ringing slices through the tension. Probably Andrew or Missy. The man who betrayed me or the woman I betray every day.

In a burst of emotion I can’t contain anymore, I yank the phone out of my pocket and throw it into the river. It’s still ringing when it splashes into oblivion. Then I swing away from all the Emotions crowding the bridge and storm toward my car.

Only one of them follows me. His white T-shirt flutters against his torso. As I open the door, twisting to get in, I can’t help but notice the ridges of muscles beneath that thin cotton. Damn it, I think, looking away too late. Lust and Longing surround me and their smothering embraces make escape difficult. The pause allows Forgiveness to catch up. He grips the door to stop me from shutting it, politely pretending not to notice the creatures giggling behind us.

“What?” I demand, hating how his proximity makes my heart pound. “What else do you have to say? What vague commentary, what soul-searching advice could you possibly offer that will make me change my mind? Tell me.”

The Choice remains calm as always, regarding me with his shuttered eyes. For the first time I long for an Emotion to visit, to turn the tables and show me what he’s feeling. I breathe hard and glare up at him. Whatever I expected him to say, it’s not, “You stopped looking too soon.”

I blink. “What?”

“You should pay a visit to Travis Bardeen’s house.”

Lust gets bored and goes, but Longing stays. She observes me with an expression as inscrutable as Forgiveness’s. The bridge is empty except for the three of us and the only sounds in the world are the birds, the creek, and my own traitorous pulse. “I know what you’re doing,” I say evenly. “It won’t work.” He won’t distract me from my vendetta. Not this time.

I finally manage to get in the car. As I jam my keys into the ignition, a strand of hair slips into the corner of my mouth. Before I can impatiently pull it away, Forgiveness leans in and does it for me. His finger nearly brushes my skin, and I freeze. He has to hear my heart now. But once again Forgiveness takes me utterly by surprise. He leans even closer, so Longing doesn’t hear, and murmurs, “Revenge made a promise to you, right?”

That minty scent is so distracting I can hardly think, much less remember a promise. Forgiveness doesn’t wait for me to nod or make some semblance of a response. “I’m going to make the same promise, right now.” His eyes hold me captive. “I will never give up on you, Alexandra Tate.”

Then he leaves, stealing my chance to find my dignity or have the last word.

Damn it, I think again, glaring at the empty air. I’m intrigued by his mention of Travis Bardeen, no matter how much I try to avoid it. And there’s nothing else to do while the Fosters are at work. So I take the paper with the addresses on it out of the glove box—studiously ignoring the gun. Remembering that I have no phone to guide me, I also dig for a map. If I’m quick, I can be back by dark, before Saul and Missy notice anything amiss.

Revenge must have messed with the radio last time we were in here, because it’s on. Just as Joe begins to introduce Elvis for the millionth time, I turn it off. A sign whizzes past on the right, with faded and chipping letters: YOU ARE NOW LEAVING FRANKLIN. That’s it. No goodbyes or good luck or wishes for return. Just those simple words. It may be the only simple thing in the midst of so much complexity. The entire drive, I think about the sign and how I wish it were true. You are now leaving. No, not really. I always go back.

But soon, I’ll make it true.

Like on the trip to find Christine Masterson, I have trouble finding the address. As I navigate through woods and winding dirt roads, I try not to picture Saul and the way his brow creases when he studies a map. I like knowing how things begin and end. They’ll be sad at first, he and Missy, but they’ll carry on, burning food and playing piano and collecting maps as they always have. I have to believe that.

“What if they don’t?” Worry whispers. Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror.

Luckily, there’s no more time to wonder; I hit a dead end with a single driveway leading up into more trees. Though there are no signs or mailboxes to let me know I have the right one, something tells me I do. Trepidation surges through my veins like needles. I force myself to turn into the driveway. My car groans as I inch up the hill. There’s junk and trash everywhere, and a flat tire is the last thing I need so I slow down even more.