It’s like I said from the beginning—there’s no future for us together. It’s just not possible.
“I don’t know if I’ll need a lawyer to handle this stuff with Landon, but obviously, if I do, it can’t be you. Since I’ll probably have to hire someone more in my price range, I’ll just have them deal with my neighbor stuff if it’s a problem going forward. I’m not even sure what my neighbor was responsible for and what Landon did. Maybe my neighbor is just a creepy sexist and not responsible for any of the other stuff.”
“I’ll talk to Landon and find out,” he assures me. “I’ll let you know.”
I nod. “Thanks. Beyond that, I don’t think we should talk anymore.”
He doesn’t look surprised. He nods, but it doesn’t feel like agreement, just an acknowledgment of my preferences.
I’m too tired to insist on clarification.
It has been the longest, most terrifying night of my life, and all I want to do is go home and curl up in bed with my daughter, where I can rest assured that she is safe and sound and within my reach.
Parker emerges from the office and makes her way to me with her head down, probably to avoid catching Landon’s gaze again. I escort her out of the building as quickly as possible so we can put all this behind us.
When we get outside, I realize I’ll have to drive her car home since I don’t have mine.
Parker seems to realize it, too, when she gets in the passenger seat and frowns thoughtfully at the door leading into the police station.
She looks over at me, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Did you and Landon’s dad get here at the same time?”
I don’t have the energy left to lie to her tonight. It feels pointless to have made it this far without her knowing and then have to come clean, but I’m on the verge of mental exhaustion and just don’t have it in me.
“I was with him when he got the call that Landon had been arrested. I checked my phone and realized I’d missed all those calls and texts from you. It was because I was with him.”
Understandably, she looks confused. “But… why? Where were you?”
“At the beach,” I say softly, starting up the car and mustering what’s left of my energy to drive us home.
When we pull into the driveway, it feels like the scene of a crime.
I guess because it is.
There’s dust residue on the doorknob from where they collected his fingerprints. When I walk into the kitchen, I can’t help knowing someone else was in this room while I was out—someone who meant to do my daughter harm.
When I walk up the stairs, it’s impossible not to wonder what it was like for her. Did she run up these same stairs, terrified, with him on her heels? Is she reliving all of it as she walks through our home?
Parker doesn’t balk when I tell her I want her to sleep in my room tonight. It’s been years since she crawled into my bed to go to sleep, but there’s no way I would be able to sleep with her anywhere else.
As tired as I am, I can’t seem to fall asleep even with her right next to me. I lie in bed with my eyes burning and my emotional stores entirely depleted. I’m desperate to sleep but surprised by the overwhelming emptiness I feel.
I know it’s just because I’m exhausted. I’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.
The dark room lights up, and I glance over at my phone on the bedside table.
I look over to make sure Parker is still asleep, and when I see that she is, I grab my phone.
It’s a text message from Hayden that simply says, “It was all him and his friends.”
“Were they here tonight? Why aren’t they in trouble, too?”
“They bailed on him,” he texts back. “They were game to spook her but not to come inside the house. When he went in the house, they drove away so they didn’t get in trouble, too.”
“Some friends,” I text.
“Yeah.”
Our conversation is at its natural end, but for some reason, I don’t want to put down the phone. I feel comfort just looking at the screen and seeing his words.