Page 91 of Wicked Games

Though, I’m learning, in order to do that, you need a lot of glue, and a lot of paper to document everything.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Seth

It feels wrong to be doing this again. I sit on Avery’s bed and jerk socks on my feet, my tie lying on the comforter. Duane dropped off my suit earlier this morning, and somberly, after he left, Avery and I fixed breakfast in her little kitchen. I keep having flashbacks to Theo’s funeral, the surrealness of it all. My little boy was dead. I’d never hear him giggle, never hear him ask for another kiss goodnight.

It was a senseless act of violence, back then. Back before I knew Brooke took him away from me. It sounds just as ridiculous, but even if LaSalle never finds evidence she planned Theo’s kidnapping to punish me, I know it’s true. Because I can’t ignore my part in it. I didn’t listen to her, didn’t take her wants and needs seriously. Her jealousy of Violet’s and my friendship grew out of control, when all I had to do was go home on time after a day at work and be with my family on the weekends instead of going to the office for conference calls and meetings that I could have put off. Brooke accused me of choosing Violet, of choosing my company, and though I denied it, it’s what I had done.

I drag myself to my feet and shove my tie into my pocket. I’ll put it on when we get there.

Avery’s in the bathroom, trying to smear a light cream goop over her bruise. She’s wearing a dress similar to the one she wore in that picture with Darren, when she accepted her award. Maybe it’s the same dress. It doesn’t matter. She looks just as beautiful as she did then, only now she doesn’t have an asshole of a husband hanging on her.

No, it’s just me, and I’m not any better.

I pull a tissue out of the box on the vanity and dab at her cheek. “Stop. You’re still gorgeous. You don’t need any of that.”

“It looks terrible,” she says, tilting her head and studying her reflection. The bruise has deepened in color, a wicked purple against the delicate paleness of her skin. “I suppose that’s selfish. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not selfish. You almost died, and you have a right to feel how you feel. Brooke didn’t ask for any of this and neither did you. Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go.”

I don’t see Duane and Gus around, but they’ve been keeping an eye on Avery’s apartment. I’m parked in Avery’s assigned parking space in the lot, and I hurry her across the pavement. I don’t want her out in the open any longer than she has to be, though being scared of what Vale will eventually try to do to her will only drive me insane. I’ll be looking over my shoulder until that bastard’s locked up, and we have no promises that could be soon, if ever.

We’re quiet as I navigate the city streets to a church I’ve never attended. I’ve never been big on church, my parents raising me without religion. The parking lot’s full—of course it is—and I end up parking several blocks away. I should have offered to drop Avery off at the front doors, but I can’t. I can’t leave her alone.

She looks like she has something on her mind, too preoccupied to notice the summer breeze playing with her hair. I wish she would just say it. That this is too much, that she’s afraid she’ll end up in a box too. When she asked me about taking a break, my mind blanked. I couldn’t think about not seeing her, not having her in my life, but I’m being selfish too.

“What is it?” I ask tiredly. Get it over with.

She stops and looks at me, a sad smile on her face. “Brooke was your wife for a long time. The mother of your child. We’re going to her funeral, and I just wanted to say, you know, that if you need to cry, cry. If you want to be angry, be angry. Mourn her. It won’t hurt me.”

I grip her hand and continue walking. “Thank you.”

Bill was right. I did level up. Brooke never would have given me that courtesy. I don’t know if she was always that cold and I didn’t see it or if I turned her that way.

People look at us the second we step into the church’s foyer. I’m used to the stares, and maybe Avery is too, because she doesn’t react, only looks around like she’s never been here before. There are several churches in Ashfield, and if she does attend services, odds are low she’d belong to this congregation. Something else we haven’t talked about during our two-week courtship.

“Seth,” an older woman says, her voice thin, and I wince. Through the crowd, my mother tows my father behind her. I haven’t been good about keeping her up-to-date on what’s been happening with Theo’s investigation, not even calling her to tell her about Brooke’s death. All that she knows she’s probably heard on the news, unless Violet’s been talking to her, but that wouldn’t surprise me.

My mother hasn’t been well since Theo’s abduction, and her grief is still clear on her pale face. Stoic, my father doesn’t show his emotions easily, and it’s difficult to say if the way he’s acting now is from loss or exhaustion. He should retire, but he’ll work himself into his grave.

“Mom,” I say, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Dad.” He grips my hand and nods.

He liked Brooke, liked that she could play cards and laughed at the jokes he heard on the construction sites he managed. They were disappointed when she left me, but he blamed her. A woman’s place is beside her man, no matter what he does, and that my mother has lived that rule for going on forty-three years only validates his beliefs.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. How did you find out?”

“Violet called to let us know, but we already knew she was missing,” my mom says, flicking a curious glance at Avery who’s been silent. Mom doesn’t miss my hand resting on the small of Avery’s back.

“Mom, Dad, this is Avery McKay. We met in Lakehaven Falls. Avery, this is my mother, Margaret Lockwood, and my father, Albert Lockwood.”

“It’s nice to meet you, dear. Though I wish it was under better circumstances. I’ve read your essays in Bloomscene. You have a lovely voice,” Mom says, studying Avery’s bruise then looking past her to someone approaching us. “Violet, actually, encouraged me to read you.”

Avery shakes my parents’ hands. “Thank you. I appreciate you saying so.”