Key to Hell (Hell Night 4)

Just then, Elijah turns around and spots Trouble. “Dada!” he screeches and waddles off in his direction. A smile tips up my lips as Trouble scoops up Elijah and puts him on his lap. Watching my brother interact with his child fills me with a deep sense of longing. I glance away, pushing the unwanted feeling to the back of my mind. Inadvertently, I scoot a couple of inches closer to Aziah. When I glance back at Trouble, he’s looking at me again. His eyes flicker to Emo beside me and a frown tugs his brows down. I wonder what he’s thinking.

Remi breaks the silence. “I hope it was okay that Trouble brought your stuff in from your car.”

“Thank you. That was fine.”

Except for a suitcase full of clothes, I left most everything back in Odessa. I woke up this morning with my suitcase and a small box at the end of my bed.

“Can you call Jenny? I need to speak with her,” I ask Trouble.

Something dark passes over his face before he looks at Remi. A lead ball drops in my stomach at her pained expression. I glance from one to the other, some internal instinct telling me that something isn’t right. My fingers curl against my legs, my nails digging into my flesh.

“What is it?” I whisper.

“Jenny died a little over nine months ago,” Trouble says gruffly.

“What?” I croak. “How?”

“She was murdered.”

I throw a shaky hand over my mouth. I barely remember Jenny from Sweet Haven, so I didn’t really know her, but in a way, I did. Deanna and Mick talked about her a lot. There were pictures on their walls they took of her before they left Sweet Haven. They kept their distance from her because they worried she would hate them and not want anything to do with them. It tore them apart knowing she was so close, but they couldn’t be a part of her life. Even so, they gathered enough information over the years to know she was happy here in Malus. That knowledge was the only thing that gave them peace with their decision to leave her life for good.

I dart my gaze back to Trouble, tears gathering in my eyes. “Did she get their letter I sent?”

He tilts his head to the side. “You sent that letter?”

“Yes. They asked me to send it if anything happened to them.”

He clears his throat. “Unfortunately, she died before the letter was delivered.”

A tear streaks down my cheek and it feels scalding hot. For the first couple years, I was leery of Deanna and Mick, but after a while, I began to trust them, and even thought of them as parental figures. It hurts knowing their daughter will never know how much they loved her, mourned her absence from their life, and how much they regretted the part they played in her early childhood. I saw their pain on a daily basis. I believe that’s why they tried so hard with me. I was sort of a stand-in for Jenny. I never resented them for that. They were so patient with me those first few years, were there for me during my nightmares and panic attacks, offered solace, and helped me through the dark times. I was grateful and blessed to have had them. I reaped what they couldn’t give their daughter.

The box I brought here was letters they wrote to her over the years. There had to be hundreds of them. Giving them to Jenny was another request Deanna and Mick asked of me. Sadness engulfs me knowing she’ll never see them or know how much her parents loved her.

“How did you become friends with Layla?”

Trouble’s question pulls me from my depressing thoughts. I swipe my tears away and blow out a shaky breath.

“It was by accident, actually. I was going through a rough time, and I came across a grief group online. Although I hadn’t lost anyone, I still felt a huge hole in my chest like I had. Later, I realized it was loss. Deanna and Mick treated me wonderfully, but I still missed you all. It had been years, so I should have been used to it by then, but sometimes it would hit me like it was yesterday.

“Anyway, I was scrolling through some of the message boards, and I recognized the name Malus from when Deanna and Mick told me where you were. She said her name was Layla. I immediately started talking to her, knowing it would be a small connection to you all.”

Trouble clears his throat. “Why didn’t you just say something? Why didn’t you tell her who you were and ask her to tell me?”

I look down at Emo’s hand resting on the cushion between us. His complexion is so much darker than mine. He’s always had a natural tan, while I was always pale. Trouble took after our father, who had Mexican in his blood. I got my mother’s pale Irish complexion.

I zero in on a raised red line peeking out from between his thumb and forefinger. A scar. It reminds me of yesterday when he deliberately hurt himself with the key he told me about. Sorrow skates through my chest. Emo likes to hurt himself.

“Rella?”

I look back at Trouble.

“I couldn’t,” I whisper low. “I was scared to come back here.” I sniff and wipe my nose with the sleeve of my shirt.

“I would have come to you.”

I hate how his voice breaks.

“I know. There were so many times I almost told Layla who I was. I wanted to so much, but I was afraid if I did you would come to me. I didn’t want to lose you again, and I knew I would because you would come back here. That or I would come here with you, and I wasn’t ready for that.”