Don't Tell (Don't 1)

“Yes?” I rested the pen on the ink-stained pages.

“Have you made a decision.”

I stared into his eyes. “I have.”

24

I gripped the railing with every step I took. I couldn’t look up, only down at my Keds. The sides were scuffed. The fabric worn. I reached the landing. I had to have the strength to go inside, but I wasn’t sure where to find it. I had been drained of emotion. What was left was a shell.

I turned the handle. Greer waited inside for me.

“Thank God they let you go. Are you ok?” she asked.

I nodded, but I was numb. I looked down. My suitcase was still in the middle of the floor. I didn’t know where to move. Sit down? Hide in my room? I was frozen.

“How did this happen, Emily?” she snarled.

My head snapped when I heard the accusation in her voice. Our eyes locked. I did have an emotion left—defensive anger.

“You think I knew? That I had something to do with this?”

She rose to meet me. “You had no idea your boyfriend was a hired criminal? None whatsoever?”

My eyes pierced together in defiance. “You actually believe I knew about Vaughn?”

“I don’t know.” She groaned, spinning toward the glass doors to the balcony. “That’s not even his name. His name is Jeremy West. Jeremy Fucking West.”

“You’re mad at me? You blame me for bringing him here? Why don’t you blame yourself for bringing classified documents home in a cardboard box?” I fired back.

“That’s the protocol. I followed the protocol.”

“And I didn’t? That’s what you’re implying. That I dated and slept with a guy who wasn’t properly vetted. Is that what I was supposed to do? Get you to run a background check on him before our first kiss? Would that have made you happy?” I wasn’t finished. “You should have protected those documents, Greer. Not me. That wasn’t my job. It was yours.”

“You let him in,” she whispered.

I pulled the suitcase handle into my grasp and began to wheel it toward my room.

“You’re not going to stay and talk about it?” she called. “That’s it?”

I yanked an open bottle of wine off the counter on my way.

“No. It’s not it. But I’ve been stripped down to nothing by the bureau and I’m not going to let me best friend do the same thing.” I slammed the door and locked it secure.

I twisted the cork from the bottle and pressed the glass rim to my lips. I almost couldn’t swallow. The sob was stuck in my throat.

I forced it down. Along with the next gulp. And another.

When the bottle was empty I moved to the shower, peeled the vomit-stained clothes from my body, and stepped in under the water.

I stood in the center of the tub, waiting for relief. Waiting to wake up from this nightmare. Waiting for the haze in front of my eyes to ebb enough for me to see. I turned the handle under the water to scalding. My feet turned red.

I didn’t care. I couldn’t feel it.

I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around my chest. I wanted another drink, but I didn’t want to face Greer.

I walked to my bed and slid between the sheets. I turned my phone off. I didn’t know if Agent Kenneth would dare call. And after today I knew I had spoken my last words to Vaughn. He was gone. I closed my eyes. I knew there wouldn’t be peace in my sleep, but it was better than being awake where I could think and remember.

I counted backward. And eventually I fell asleep.