Ten Below Zero(74)

I tugged.

He let go of me, albeit hesitantly. I stood up and walked to the door. But before I reached the handle, I turned around. Everett was right when he said I was stubborn. But I was right about this.

“Everett,” I said. He lifted his head to me. His eyes were tortured, red-rimmed. “If you die, I’m the only one with our memories. But if you have the surgery, if you lived, you might lose them. But you’d be alive. And I’d still have those memories.”

And then I left, without looking back.





Two Months Later


I received a box in the mail a few days earlier. The return address was Dallas and the sender was Bridget. But I couldn’t open it. It sat in my bedroom untouched. It wasn’t very big, but I was afraid of it. Loving Everett brought with it a range of emotions. I was a wreck. From anger to fear to happiness to love. I felt them all. And they hurt, all the time. Feeling things was painful. But if I had learned anything, it was that every bit of good came from a little bit of pain. I wouldn’t be like Eloisa. I’d choose the memories of Everett and live through the pain. Because at least I was living.

My dreams were either replaying our trip or an alternate reality. Where Everett lived. He wore all black and had a new scar on top of the old one and we spent a weekend in the Picketwire Canyonlands, a weekend in purgatory, together. That was my favorite dream, the one that made me cry whenever I woke up. Because my reality was often a nightmare.

Carly and Jasmine had invited me to go out with him a few times since I’d returned. But I couldn’t. I was a different person in many ways, but I wanted to avoid people as much as possible.

That box in the corner of my room was a lot like me. Filled with Everett, but afraid to open up. It could collect dust in the corner of my room forever.

I testified against Morris Jensen. I sat in the box, answered the questions from the county prosecutor. He pulled up photos of me from when I’d been brought to the hospital. I stared at those photos and ached for the girl I was when they were taken. Ached or the years of indifference I would embrace. I removed my suit jacket partway into questioning, to let them all see the scars that Morris Jensen left on my body.

I avoided looking at Morris the entire time. When the defense attorney questioned me, I answered all the questions, but Morris’ fate was already sealed. If it hadn’t been sealed by the DNA evidence under my nails, it was sealed with Mira’s testimony.

She’d taken the stand, unhappily. When I’d returned to California, I asked her about the shot I’d heard in my flashback.

She’d looked at me with impatience, but also with resignation. “Yeah, I shot at him,” she’d answered, pursing her lips. “He’d have died if he hadn’t gone to the ER. So he f*cked himself with that.”

Mira had testified and her gun was used as evidence, confirming that the bullet found in Morris Jensen’s abdomen belonged to Mira’s gun. Mira wasn’t charged with a crime, but she’d received a bit of heat for not coming clean sooner. I felt bad about that, but Mira shrugged it off.

“I’m moving anyway,” she said as we left the courtroom.

“With Six?”

She looked at me like she was annoyed for me asking. But she was coming to see that I’d changed. I’d hardened a little. She teasingly called me a rat, saying it was more appropriate than mouse. And then she’d sighed. “Six has a lot going on right now. I’m not sure that I should hang around him.” I didn’t push her for more information, because that was practically a heartfelt confession from her in and of itself.

When I came home from the trial, I stared at that box in the corner of my room with contempt. And then my phone rang.

I didn’t recognize the number, but the caller ID said it was Texas. My heart roared in my chest and my finger shook over the Answer button.

“Hello?”

“Parker.” A woman’s voice. I sat on the bed, overcome with emotion. I’d wanted to hear his voice. But this was likely the reason I couldn’t.

“This is she.”

“It’s Bridget.”

The breath left my mouth. “Bridget.” I said her name with equal dread and hope.

“Can you come to Texas?”

My heart burned. “When?”

“Right now. I’ll buy your ticket if you need me to-”

“No, I’m already coming,” I said, not bothering to change my clothes. I rushed out the door with my purse in one hand and my phone to my ear. “Should I call this number when I land?”

There was a rush of relief in her voice. “Yes. Yes. Text me your flight details when you get to the airport.”

I didn’t ask for any other information. I didn’t want to cry on the flight. I didn’t want to be the object of anyone’s interest. I only wanted to get to Texas as soon as possible. I could cry then, with confirmation from Bridget.



By the time Bridget met me in front of Arrivals at the airport, I was a wreck. She climbed out of the car and threw her arms around me. She was shaking and crying in my arms, so I started crying and shaking too. By the time she pulled away, my entire face was covered in tears. I was wiping them away with the back of my hand when I saw her face.

Or more specifically, the smile on her face. “Thank you,” she said, her eyes brighter from the tears, the smile wider than I had ever seen.