Fleeting Moments(23)

I am acting exactly like what they’re accusing me of at the moment.

I went home this morning to collect my phone. It was sitting on the kitchen bench, and beside it, a note from my dad. I called him as soon as I left and assured him I was safe, but staying in a hotel for a little while because I wasn’t ready to go back to the house and face it all. He begged me to talk to Gerard, and I promised I’d call him, but I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet, either.

I just arrived back at the hotel room after going out for some Chinese food. I’ve been sitting on my laptop for hours, researching everything I can about cults and how they work. The more I read, the more terrified I become over the fact that they’re so deranged and twisted. Worse, that one person can manage to change the minds of so many. Do people truly believe God would want these things?

Extremists. That’s what they’re called. Their mission is beyond extreme. It is horrifying.

I shove a piece of cashew chicken into my mouth when my phone rings beside me. Gerard’s name flashes on the screen and I reach for it right away, picking it up and answering. “Hi,” I say softly after I’ve swallowed my food.

“Lucy,” he says, and his voice is brisk. “I’m just calling to let you know I’ll be needing access to the house to get my things tomorrow.”

The coldness in his voice hurts me. He’s never spoken to me like that.

“And tell her she’ll need to find a lawyer to handle the divorce papers and a settlement,” his sister yells from the background.

That explains why he’s so cold. Anytime Heather is involved, his mind is instantly warped. She’ll be loving this.

“You have a key, Gerard,” I whisper, my voice too tight to make an appearance. “You can go in whenever you want. Can’t we talk about this?”

“I don’t wish to enter until I know that you’ve granted permission. It makes me feel better.”

Bloody lawyers.

“Listen,” I say, trying to stop the hurt from coming into my voice, “I know things have been hard, but can’t we talk about this like adults and without your sister interfering?”

“Are you still looking for that man?”

“Gerard . . .”

“Then we’re done, Lucy. This is for the best. I’m not going to argue; it doesn’t need to be a messy divorce. All we need is to sort this out and then move on civilly.”

“You’re really just willing to hand it all over, after everything?”

“I can’t take it anymore, and you’re not willing to try either, so yes.”

“Our relationship has changed. And, you’re asking me to tell you I’m crazy, and that’s not going to happen, because I’m not.”

He sighs. “I’m not going over this again. You’ve made your choice. I’ll be at the house at ten a.m. tomorrow.”

“Are you going to protest if I come and talk with you?”

He goes silent for a few minutes. “If that’s what you need to do, but my mind is made up.”

Then he hangs up on me.

Jerk.

I shove more chicken into my mouth when a knock sounds out at my door. Narrowing my eyes, I stand and walk over, opening it. I gasp when I see Heath, his face bloodied, standing at my door, his body coated with sweat.

“Oh my god,” I rasp. “What happened?”

“Can I come in?”

I nod and step aside and he walks in, his long muscled legs striding across the room until he finds the bed, where he plants his ass down and stares at me. I stare back at him. I’m not exactly sure what he wants me to say or do. I never thought he’d show up, but here he is, bleeding and angry.

“I’ll get some ice,” I say, eyeing his swollen hands.

I rush to the small fridge and pull it open, reaching into the top and pulling out the ice in the little cooler above the fridge section. I wrap it in a towel and walk over, handing it to him. He takes it and presses it against his knuckles while I study his eye. It’s swelling, and a small cut beneath it is what’s causing the bleeding. “I’ll get another towel for your eye.”

I rush into the bathroom, soaking a towel, then I bring it out, kneeling in front of him and pressing it to his face. He hisses and my eyes meet his, holding them, and suddenly the air in the room thickens. He’s here. He’s really here.

“Ah,” I whisper. “Are you okay?”

He studies my face, his eyes dropping to my mouth, and then his jaw tics. “You’re messing with my head.”

“So you got beaten up?”

He shakes his head. “I got into a fight with my f*cking brother; it had nothing to do with you.”

“Okay then,” I say softly.

“You’re just messing with my head in general.”

I look away. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make your life difficult.”

“I’m giving you one night, Lucy. I’ll stay here; you can ask me what you want and I’ll tell you what I can. I’ll talk with you, but there is one condition . . .”

“Name it,” I rasp.

“You gotta stop looking for me, and you’ve gotta stop asking about me.”

“So when you walk out tomorrow, I’ll never see you again.”