CHAPTER24
NOVA
It seemedlike a blink and a decade, but it’s already mid-December. The stress of everything is coiling and tightening around me like a snake.
My mom is hounding me about coming home, but I haven’t left the house once after the rock through Zeke’s window. He is officially suspicious, and I know I need to tell him, but every time I open my mouth it all jams up inside. Whoever is after me has found me, and I’m slowly being backed into a corner. I’m too scared to fight back, too scared to be honest, but what harm is a video on the internet and a bunch of strangers hating me compared to having a blackmailer who has officially crossed into stalking?
As soon as I flip the covers off, I shiver in the cold air of the apartment. My legs are stiff and aching, and I have no idea if it’s from the cold, pregnancy, MS, or the tension in every limb from being hunted down. But it’s clear Zeke has turned the heat down again. Even Figgy stays curled up in the comforter, utterly uninterested in getting out of his warm spot.
I grumble and throw on thick socks. Shuffling out to the main room, I see that I was right. I crank the heat, and the furnace rumbles to life. The coffee pot is strategically placed above a vent, so I watch the coffee brew as warm air swirls around my feet. I have my phone clutched in my hand, but even though I glance at it every few minutes, I’m still reeling from the smashed window.
I’m stranded in this town with people I barely know and have had to cut contact with my family. I have nothing and no one. Even if Zeke says he’s here for me, I know he’s shifted into detective mode. All of the sexy energy we’d built up has evaporated since the day I got my ultrasound, and then things began to topple like dominos. First his freak out about having a boy, then the threatening note thrown through his truck window.
He’s waiting for me to either tell him the truth or fuck up and get caught in a lie. I’m starting to think that whoever is doing this to me wants me to mess it up. They aren’t hoping I stay away. They hope I slip up, their finger ready to hit publish on the dirt they have on me and probably the rest of my family. If this is what they want, why not just fold? Get it over with.
In a moment of aggravated desperation, I dial my sister’s number.
“Nova.” Dru’s voice rings out over speakerphone, and I set the device down as I prepare the coffee.
“Hey, Dru,” I say weakly.
“Uh oh. What’s wrong?” Dru deadpans, and I hear the faint creak of furniture—like a squeaky mattress or something.
“Where are you?” I ask, knowing for sure that no bed in my mother’s house sounds like a rusted-out motel mattress.
“Just hanging out with a couple friends,” she says quickly. “What’s up?”
“What would you say if I told you I was in trouble but couldn’t tell you why?”
She’s silent for a moment, her breathing speeding up, and a deep, frustrated sigh pushes through the phone.
“I would ask if it was going to affect you. Is it manageable trouble?”
“It’s going to have a big effect, not just on me, but us. It’s already affected us. It’s slowly becoming unmanageable.” I crush my eyes shut, knowing what she’s going to say.
“Then you contain it, Nova, and don’t let it spill out.” Her voice lowers into a warning. “Listen, I gotta go. But we can’t afford for you to fall apart right now, okay?”
She hangs up on me, and I grip the counter, watching the coffee drip and sputter into the pot.
“Are you brewing it with your mind?” Zeke asks, and I scream, grabbing at my chest.
“Jesus,” I huff and crush my eyes shut for a moment. When I turn to face him, he’s just in his underwear, and I use an iron grip on my attention to stay focused on his face. How can he just wander around like that in subzero temperatures?
“Were you talking to your sister there?” he asks, and my heart sputters as I nod. I was on speaker, so he obviously heard, and I don’t know—maybe subconsciously, I wanted him to hear. I’m exhausted and lonely and desperate but too scared to come out with it. If he figures it out, then it’s not on me.
“And she told you just to keep suffering in silence, then?” he continues, crossing his arms.
“That’s not what she said,” I say, feeling the need to defend her. “She said to contain it.”
“How’s that any different?” he asks and then pauses at the thermostat.
His judgment tears through me, and as he goes to turn the heat down, I snap; at the loss of control, at the confusion of it all, at knowing I’m fucking powerless right now.
“Don’t,” I say, and he frowns.
“It’s so fucking hot in here.” His voice pitches up like he’s trying to be funny, and I can’t handle it. Annoyance spikes through my gut, and suddenly I’m sick of his humour, of the deflection.
“I’m freezing.” I grab at the sweater I’m wearing, lifting my foot to show the huge socks I bought in town with Tabby the other day.