The Weight of Blood (64)

Maddy, Maddy, Maddy.

Kenny jumped out of his skin, hitting his head on the truck ceiling with an “Ow!”

“What’s wrong?” Wendy gasped, quickly covering herself.

Kenny caught his breath. “I . . . I thought I saw something.”

Wendy looked around the dark woods and chuckled. “It’s nothing,” she cooed, trying to pull him back to her. But he resisted, his body unresponsive to her touch. He wasn’t in the mood for sex. The flight response overpowered him.

“Guess I’m just tired. Overdid it at the gym today.”

“You went to the gym? You didn’t tell me that.”

Kenny rolled his eyes, trying to smother his growing impatience with her constant tracking. Truth was, he’d gone home, read a book, and eaten a sandwich. He’d wanted to be alone and just think, for a change. The same thing he wanted at that very moment.

“It’s . . . getting late,” he said. “Come on. Let me take you home.”

A crushed expression washed over Wendy’s face, but she quickly wiped it clean. “Um. Okay,” she mumbled, reaching for her bra.

Outside Wendy’s house, she kissed him hard, caressing his face, but to him, it felt stale and meaningless.

“Good luck tomorrow,” she said with a smile, hopping out of his truck. She placed a hand on the window frame, searching his face for a faint glimpse of reassurance.

He could barely muster a smile in return but nodded and sped off, not even waiting until she made it inside. Instead of making a right down the block toward home, he turned left, toward Mills Road. He needed some air. He needed a long drive and a cool breeze to clear his head. He opened the sunroof and turned his music on high.

He’d been having second thoughts about Wendy for a while, but the events of the last few weeks seemed to be compacting them. Could he be with her forever? The way she always talked about? He wasn’t so sure anymore. Was there more out there for him? Would he be settling for what he knew without giving the world a try?

Break up with her, a voice inside him said. If you feel this way, break up with her, don’t hurt her. It would be a cathartic release.

The endless dark roads were merciful to the growing pressure on his temples. He drove in circles, letting the road take him wherever it wanted.

Maddy. Maddy. Maddy.

Maddy’s name kept beating against the walls of his skull. Two weeks ago, he’d hardly uttered her name. Now she was all that he could think of. All he wanted. He turned down a residential street, then another, snaking all through town.

Maddy. Maddy. Maddy.

The name drowned his thoughts and slowed his reflexes, as if he’d had one too many beers. His vision blurred and the truck swerved. He gasped and slowed down, pulling over to catch his breath, his heart racing. He looked to his left and found himself in front of Maddy’s house, parked across from her driveway.

“Shit,” he mumbled, and turned off the engine.

Maddy stepped back from the kitchen counter to admire her work of art. The freshly baked pound cake sat on a kelly-green stand, rich and golden brown. She pulled another pan out of the oven without a mitt. Nothing burned her anymore.

The house was quiet. Papa had locked himself in his office, keeping his distance, mumbling prayers. He came home from work and took his dinner upstairs rather than sitting at the table with Maddy. She didn’t mind, as long as he ate. He was starting to look thin, wasting away. Even through all his lies, she still cared for him.

Kendrick is outside.

The thought fluttered in and perched on her frontal lobe. She stiffened, glancing over her shoulder. She knew he was there without anyone having to tell her, without even looking outside. The realization of how incredible she had become over just a few weeks sank in. Her lips curved into a small smile.

Then she grabbed a red-checkered cloth napkin from the cupboard and laid it out on the table.

Kenny leaned against his car door, staring out of the window at the Washingtons’ house as if casing the place, wondering which window belonged to Maddy. The house looked as if it could collapse at any moment, and he hated the thought of her being inside. He had no clue how he’d gotten there, and it wasn’t his intention to be some type of stalker. Yet he didn’t want to leave. There were thousands of places he could be, but sitting outside her home seemed to beat them all.

Five more minutes, he promised himself, then he’d go home. Suddenly, the world grew quiet, as if the bugs and owls had all gone mute. An unsettling silence.

Then her front door creaked open.

“Shit,” he muttered, bolting upright. Fumbling, he turned on the engine, clicked buttons, and was prepared to speed off when he spotted Maddy walking down the driveway, holding something in her hands.

The moment she climbed into his truck, he was immediately enveloped in her scent, causing the restlessness to dissipate. An incomprehensible relief. Was she all he needed?

“Hi,” she said in an impossibly small voice.

“Hey,” he breathed.

Hair tied in a low ponytail, she wore a men’s white undershirt with a plaid skirt, shorter than her other ones, allowing him to catch a quick glimpse of her bare knees. He gripped the steering wheel. It was fucked up, he knew it was fucked up, but at that moment, he didn’t care. He was just so happy to be alone with her again that nothing else mattered.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.