Gone (Deadly Secrets #2)(29)
The furniture was exactly the same—same burnt-orange couch they’d saved three months for when they’d first been married, the same gold throw pillows Raegan had picked out at a flea market they’d wandered through one drizzly Saturday afternoon still scattered across the seat. The scuffed round coffee table was just as he remembered—also a flea market find—as were the mismatched, oversized side chairs, one off-white, one gold. He looked across the living room to the kitchen with its wide island and familiar stainless-steel appliances where he’d watched Raegan cook more times than he could count. Even the round, shabby-chic table and four upholstered gold-striped chairs that he’d bought Raegan for their first Christmas were the same. Still sitting in the breakfast nook with its wide windows that overlooked the patio and the city view, waiting to be used.
The air caught in his lungs. It was like stepping back in time, like walking through a memory.
“Sorry I’m running late,” Raegan called from the hall that led to the two small bedrooms. “I’ll be right out.”
Her voice jolted him out of his memories, shocking him back to the moment. Swallowing hard, he flexed his hands and closed them into fists, did it again and again and focused on the sensation as he forced back the pain threatening to suck him under.
Thankfully, it worked. The memories faded, the ache subsided. But as they did, his alcohol cravings intensified. In a rush, he looked toward the kitchen cupboards, wondering if Raegan had anything hard stashed behind those doors. He took a step in that direction but faltered when he noticed subtle differences in the apartment, ones he hadn’t seen on first look.
The high chair that had sat against the wall between the kitchen and breakfast nook was gone. The magnetic alphabet letters were missing from the fridge. There were no toys in a basket near the fireplace. No outlet protectors covering the plug-ins low on the walls.
The hole in his chest that he lived with daily seemed to grow, creating a crater beneath his ribs. Turning away, he stared at the bookshelves on both sides of the fireplace, scanning titles and tomes in a desperate attempt to take his mind off everything that was missing. But instead of helping, all that did was tear at something in his chest. Because two seconds was all it took for him to spot the framed photo on the third shelf. The one of him and Raegan, both kneeling down behind Emma in her high chair on their daughter’s first birthday.
He’d been wrong. He did still have a heart. A shadow of one that twisted so hard in the center of his chest it felt as if it were ripping in two.
The backs of his eyes burned as he stared at the photo. At Emma’s little hands covered in blue icing. At the cake smeared all over her cherub face and in her auburn hair. At the way she was laughing hysterically as she pressed her frosting-covered hand against Alec’s cheek while he smiled at the camera and Raegan looked at both of them with nothing but love and happiness in her eyes. A thousand emotions hit him like daggers driving deep into his chest, stealing his breath, blinding him with pain, robbing him of the ability to think of anything but that long-ago, precious moment.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Raegan said from the hallway. “I was at the station this morning, and one of the interns spilled coffee all over my blouse. I had to come home and take a quick shower because I smelled like a barista.”
Alec blinked quickly, turned away from the photo, but couldn’t bring himself to look at Raegan. Focusing on breathing, on taking one lungful of air at a time, he glanced over the room again, only everything he saw reminded him of Emma. Of Raegan. Of a time when he’d been happy and loved and whole.
He couldn’t stay here. Needed to get out. Was going to lose it if he didn’t leave right fucking now.
“That’s fine.” He strode past her, careful not to look at her or anything except for the carpet in front of his shoes. “Let’s go.”
“Um, okay,” she said after him. “Let me just get my coat.”
He didn’t wait for her. Pulling the door open, he moved into the hall as fast as he could. “I’ll grab the elevator.”
He moved quickly down the hall, punched the elevator button, leaned a hand against the wall, and closed his eyes. Sweat slicked his skin everywhere, and his pulse still raced like he’d been in a fight. But at least out here in the hall he wasn’t about to hyperventilate.
A click sounded behind him, followed by footsteps. Seconds later Raegan moved up on his right. “Everything okay?”
The elevator dinged, and the door swept open. Still feeling unsteady, Alec stepped inside and said, “Fine.”
He punched the lobby button and stared at the wall panel as Raegan moved into the car next to him. “Fine.” There was that word again. The one he’d gotten good at using over the years. He wasn’t fine. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d been fine. Was shocked people couldn’t see through his bullshit like tissue paper.
The car jolted to a stop at the third floor, and the doors whooshed open. Six teenaged boys dressed in shorts and tanks, one holding a basketball, moved into the car, chatting and laughing as if they were alone.
Raegan stepped toward Alec to give them room. The car was small, built for five people max, not a group of almost-men. Alec turned sideways and angled closer to the wall, desperate for space, but doing so only made Raegan move closer, and the next thing he knew, they were pressed together at their fronts, the teens behind her rehashing last night’s Blazers game like the superfans they obviously were.