The Speed of Light: A Novel(69)

“It’s easier this way.”

“For you.” There’s an edge to her voice.

“For both of us.” My voice has an edge now, too. “We rushed into a relationship during tough times in both of our lives without stopping to think about where we were going. About the future.”

She pauses, and I know the question is there, the one she’s been wanting to ask for weeks. “Even if that’s true, don’t you think you should’ve talked to him about it?”

“I planned to before I caught him with his ex-fiancée,” I snap.

Nikki glances over, and her voice is gentler. “Simone, do you really think he was cheating on you? I mean, honestly?”

My chest burns and I can’t answer. But even if it wasn’t cheating, it could’ve been precheating—like I caught him with his hand on the lid of the cookie jar, knowing he would eventually take the plunge. “It doesn’t matter. He lied to me.”

“But you could still talk to him,” she insists.

“Look, we were heading down separate paths anyway. He needs to focus on going back to school, and I need to focus on being as healthy as I can.”

There’s a pause but it’s heavy, like she’s gearing up for something. “Simone, I love you, and I know you’re hurting more than you let on, but I have to say: that is complete bullshit.”

I whip my head over, slowing at last. “Excuse me?” She matches my pace but doesn’t look at me, so I press on. “For your information, you are the one who said I was burying my head in the sand about my illness, and now I’m trying to fix that.”

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t also try to fix this with Connor.”

My eyes flash. “Oh yeah? Well, how about you? Have you talked to Claudia about moving?”

Her eyes narrow. “Don’t turn this shit back on me.”

“Well, have you?”

“We’ve been busy with her mom.”

I nod—I’ve found my opening and I’m taking it. “And now she’s unsure if she wants to move farther away, right? Have you told her how you feel about it? How you’re withering away in this conservative little city that pretends to be so progressive but you really feel like you can never be yourself?”

She slows to a walk now, and her face shrinks like I’ve slapped her. Shit, I’ve crossed the line. “Nik, I’m sorry.” I stop, too, reach forward and hug her. I don’t want her to move away, but I see how she and Claudia change depending on the situation, depending on the part of town, depending on the crowd, and I hate that it’s the reality of living here. But it’s their choice, not mine. “I’m an asshole.”

“You are an asshole.” She hugs me back and laughs a little. “But I don’t want to leave you.”

I squeeze her tighter. And I don’t want you to go. I manage to hold the words in, though, because I’ve been selfish enough already. We pull apart and Nikki gestures toward the falls, and we walk over and sit down on the grass. The water is mesmerizing, the rush almost drowning out the racing thoughts in my head.

Finally, Nikki sighs. “I just want you to be happy, Simone.”

“I want the same for you,” I say. “But no matter what, I’m here for you.”

She takes my hand, eyes still out on the water. “Me too.”

I stand up and pull her to her feet. We run on together, silent but strong, lifting each other up through the darkness.





PART TWELVE

CHAOS





Monday, December 6, 10:24 a.m.

I’m holding Nikki down in the darkness of this closet, but the truth is, she is anchoring me, her heartbeat the only tiny sliver of hope keeping me going through this nightmare.

The closet door is now open just a sliver since Hayley’s departure, light peeking through, and Stan is having a breakdown on full blast. “You can’t . . . you can’t just do that. We never agreed to kill people!”

“Calm down,” Chet spits. “Shit, she cut me good. You got a first aid kit in that closet?”

My body stiffens. Please God, no. I force myself up onto my knees, gathering any last shred of strength.

The door opens a crack farther, and I look fearfully up into Stan’s face. His eyes widen in shock and shame, then a wild sort of resolve. He whips around. “Nope, we don’t have anything like that.”

The door shuts, but I hear a scuffle, and as it opens again, I do the only thing I can think of—lay motionless over Nikki.

“Jesus Christ.” Chet’s voice is a growl, like a predator ready for another kill, and I squeeze my eyes shut harder, chest hammering.

“No!” Stan cries.

There’s a beat in slow motion; then both guns go off in thundering succession. My eyes fly open in shock; then I squeeze them shut again, bile rising in my throat. Because in that brief moment I saw Stan slumped on the floor—the left side of his face gone, a vision doomed to haunt me for the rest of my life, dark and gaping, a human inside out.

I hear footsteps now as Chet turns back toward us—and this is it, I think.

This is when it ends.





CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

November 26, ten days before

Race day dawns bright, the blazing sun illuminating the last of the fading orange leaves on the trees, clinging to the branches as if fighting for their lives—as if they don’t know they’ll inevitably fall.