Ace of Hearts, page 14
I covered my ears and slammed the bottom of my shoe against the back window again and again. It didn’t bust. It didn’t even crack.
Time had no meaning, trapped in the dark back seat of Ray’s squad car. I didn’t want to look at the glowing numbers on the dashboard clock. I didn’t want to know how long it had been since we had left Morrow, and Felix, and Jasmine, and my art, and my entire future behind us. Several hundred miles had gone by, surely. We had already crossed at least one state line.
Now he’d be able to keep me and my stepmom under one roof, two women under his thumb instead of just one. This would be a power trip of epic proportions. He already saw himself as all-powerful; by taking back the one thing that got away from him, he would be more certain than ever that he was a god.
I let the adrenaline crash and road noise carry me to sleep. Some small part of me—well, less small than usual—hoped I wouldn’t wake up. It was the only way this would ever be over.
The dashboard clock read 2:45 when I finally spoke again.
“I have to pee.”
“You can hold it.”
“Unless you want me staining your back seat, you better pull over.”
“I’ll make you clean it up when we get home,” he threatened, but still got off at the next exit.
We pulled into a twenty-four-hour convenience store and gas station and he turned around.
“Do not say a word to anyone. Go straight in and come straight back out. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
I gritted my teeth, but it was what he wanted to hear. What I had to say to get a shot.
Ray was right on my heels, following so close behind me I could feel his breath on my neck. I made eye contact with the clerk, a girl in her late twenties with a ponytail and dark circles under her eyes, and I tilted my chin up slightly. Maybe she saw the panic in my eyes, because she brushed her hands on her apron and turned to reach for a broom propped in the corner—right by the phone.
I never stopped moving, one foot in front of the other, praying the look on my face had been enough. But as I shut the bathroom door, I saw him whirl around and give his most convincing smile to the clerk, lifting up his jacket to show her his badge. I thumped my head against the door; my chance was over. His booming voice carried.
“Sorry about that—my daughter…we’re from out of state…came to move her back home…just got out of a bad relationship and she’s a bit unstable.”
I used the bathroom, then ran cold water from the tap and scrubbed the dried tears off my face. It still felt stiff with salt. I couldn’t just stay in there, because he’d demand the clerk unlock the door, act sweet and concerned in front of her, and things would be even worse when he got me back into the car. If I started screaming, he’d be able to drive off with me before anyone could come to help. He was bigger and stronger and had spent my whole life bullying me. He was in control and he knew it.
There was an aggressive knock on the door, bordering on banging. As soon as I opened it a sliver, he thrust a plastic shopping bag at me. “Go ahead and put these on.”
He had bought a touristy T-shirt a size too small that proclaimed “CROSSROADS OF AMERICA!” like I would be glad to return to the Midwest. A pair of navy sweatpants were shoved in the bottom of the bag. I changed, carefully folded my gala dress—even though he would probably throw it away the first chance he got—and placed it gently in the bag, one last memory from Pennsylvania.
That chapter of my life was probably over now. It didn’t hurt as badly as I thought it would—instead, I was numb. I had stolen those three years of freedom, and now I was just paying my dues. I put my ring in my pocket and yanked on the T-shirt neck, though it never seemed to make it any looser or easier to breathe in. The lady at the counter met my eye again, and we had barely made it out the door when I looked over my shoulder and saw her picking up the phone.
He had told her it was fine. Her intuition had told her it wasn’t. She was also a girl alone in a store in the middle of the night; she hadn’t been able to challenge him directly. Still, she came barreling out of the door once he had shoved me into the back of the squad car, a little breathless.
“Sir, I forgot your change—I can’t open the register until my manager gets here with the key. Please come back inside to wait.”
Ray narrowed his eyes, sharp and green and cruel. “Keep it.”
He got in and slammed the door, ignoring the girl when she tried to convince him to wait. We whipped back onto the road, and onto the interstate. Ray handed me a bottle of water, as a way to keep me occupied and quiet or a reward for not making a break for it—though he genuinely didn’t understand what I was so desperate to get away from. He thought this kind of parenthood, ruling with an iron fist, with fear instead of love, was normal. I grew up with the Morlans. I knew better.
“You’ll see this is for the best.” He had adopted a gentler tone, as if my well-being was really his priority. “You’ll live under my roof, under my rules, until you get your head on straight.”
“I’m an adult. A grown woman. You can’t make me stay there.”
He shook his head. “Even now you’re fighting me. I’m so disappointed in you.”
I wanted to pop off that his disappointment didn’t hurt me; I had spent my whole life disappointing him, by being born a girl and by every second of my existence since then. I was too mouthy, too impractical, too smart alecky, too stubborn, too fat—too everything.
Every second was a battle with myself. I hated fighting and being yelled at. If I went with the flow, I could be the obedient daughter he wanted, trick him into giving me enough freedom to get out from under his thumb again…eventually. However long it took. It could be years. And besides, of course he said he would let me go when the time came, but he thrived on controlling others. The truth was, if I tried to compromise, tried to earn the right to be left alone, I would be stuck under his rule forever. I couldn’t live with him again, not after knowing what it was like to be free.
My only other option was to keep trying to run, to keep fighting to get back what I’d worked so hard for—peace, freedom, independence, love. A life of my own.
Chapter Twelve
Felix
THE SUN WAS rising over another state when I woke up, my neck stiff from leaning back against Calamity’s passenger window. We had taken to driving in four-hour shifts; I had gone first, stopping in Ohio to swap off with Jackson, who was now snoring softly, his head on my shoulder. Jasmine was at the wheel, her mouth set in a grim line.
“Happy New Year, and welcome to Illinois.”
We had made good time. If we were lucky, we had gotten ahead of Ray and we could be there, waiting, when he arrived. If we weren’t, he had gotten too much of a head start and was already in Missouri. We’d had the advantage of three drivers; if he had stopped at a hotel for the night, we had hours to prepare. And Hesper’s fear of a gunfight be damned, this time the law would get involved and they would take everything from him—his guns, his job, his power, and his freedom. He would go to prison for this. He had to, because it was the only way Hesper would ever be safe. If they could lock up my mom for one stupid decision that ruined her life, they had to prosecute Ray.
They had to. Even if the people arresting him were his coworkers. Even if he knew all the judges. Because he was the bad guy, even when he was hiding behind his badge, and the justice system was supposed to work to protect the innocent.
Right?
“She’ll be okay.” I wasn’t sure if Jasmine was trying to convince herself or me.
“She will,” I agreed, but I was terrified because it felt like a lie—the kind you tell yourself because you can’t handle the truth.
Jasmine’s phone instructed her to take an exit onto another road. Thank God for GPS. I wiggled the phone charger in the semi-functional cigarette lighter, coaxing my phone to hold out until we at least crossed the state line into Missouri. I pulled up my contacts list. We’d lost an hour between time zones, and it was really too early to call, but surely Molly would forgive me this one. Some hard rock song blared—her ringback tone.
“Whoooozit?” The sleepy voice of my little sister was faint.
“It’s Felix, and I have a really important favor.”
“Do you know what time it is?” she complained, but at least she sounded a little more awake.
“Molls. I left you a car. Work with me here. I need you to do something, but you cannot tell Dad.” This got her attention; shuffling noises crackled from the speaker. I could picture her, wrapped in a duvet with her phone to her ear, trying not to wake Anita in their tiny, shared bedroom. “I just need you to drive by Hesper’s dad’s house and tell me if his car is parked there—his police car. Can you do that and call me back?”
“Is she okay? Is he bothering her?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “He took her, and I think they’re probably on their way there. They might be there already.”
“Holy shit, Felix!”
“Don’t! Don’t rouse the Morlan Family Alarm. The last thing I need is six angry kids and their only remaining guardian busting down a cop’s door. You know who’ll come out on top of that lawsuit.”
“We aren’t babies anymore, you jerk.” Her voice trembled, fear behind her false anger. “But yeah, I’ll drive by.”
“Thanks. I owe you one. I’m on my way—should be there in…” I tilted Jasmine’s phone screen to see the estimated arrival time. “About an hour and a half.”
“He was pretty mad when she up and left. Do you think she’ll be okay?”
“She’d better be.” I didn’t finish the threat, letting Molly infer my intentions. “Be careful and call me back.”
“Big family?” Jasmine raised an eyebrow, never taking her eyes off the road.
“Huge. Also the best.” And I had just sent my baby sister to drive past a monster’s house. I cringed.
“What did Jackson mean when he said you meant it when you married Hesper?”
Damn. She didn’t miss a trick.
“Are you sure now is the best time to talk about this?”
“I’ve been driving in complete silence for more than two hours. Name a better time. I’ll wait.”
“We’ve been best friends our whole lives—Hesper and I.” Her name felt like acid in my throat. “But when we got married, I didn’t think I was in love with her.”
“This may seem like a fairly obvious question, but why would you marry someone you didn’t love?” Her eyes were blazing. “Because it sounds to me like you took advantage of her.”
“She’s the one who suggested it. It was for convenience. But when I moved in, things changed. I don’t know how long I loved her before I finally realized. Honestly? Probably forever. I’m just an idiot who didn’t know it, and I was lucky enough I got a chance with her anyway.”
“She loves you. Like, for real love. You know that, right?”
“I love her too.”
“You better. You might be her best friend, but I care about her, too, and I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her.”
“Let’s get her back safe before we talk about me hurting her. I’m not the one she has to be afraid of right now.”
“Fair enough.”
We had barely gone ten miles before my phone rang. I put Molly on speaker.
“His car is there. The hood is still hot, so they must have just got home.”
“You got out of the car? And stood in their driveway?”
“Well, yeah!” she said defensively. “I thought you wanted reconnaissance! Besides, I didn’t let anyone see me. It’s fine!”
“I did not ask for recon.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaling as evenly as I could. “Get out of there, Molls. I mean it.”
“You want me to sit by while your best friend is held hostage in her dad’s basement. Yeah, right.”
“Go home and stay put. I’ll see you soon.”
The landscape changed as we got closer to home, the flat and endless expanses of soybean fields giving way to the hills and trees of Missouri. I hadn’t been back since Hesper and I left, headed out east, fresh out of high school setting out on an epic, terrifying, thrilling road trip to a new life. Our old lives were still here though, waiting for us to deal with them.
We pulled into a rest stop for a bathroom break.
“Dude, I get to meet your sisters!” Jackson yawned when I poked him in the ribs, trying to get him out of the seat.
“No.”
“What!”
“Don’t talk to them. Don’t even look at them.” Especially not Molly. Jesus Christ, the trouble those two could get into.
He waggled his eyebrows. “I can’t stop them from looking at me though.”
“Surely there’s something in the bro code about this. Besides, I am not letting you hit on my sisters while my wife is in danger! Focus, Jackson!”
He deflated. “Sorry, Felix.”
We all swapped seats, and I drove the last thirty miles on autopilot, like some kind of magnet was drawing me home. You could drive straight through Tegan Creek, Missouri and come out the other side in about ten minutes, even taking into account the blinking stoplight at the one intersection dead in the center of town. The first few blocks featured manicured lawns and the houses of affluent families. It was the proverbial white picket fence Midwestern dream, but I passed them, because that wasn’t where I was from. I turned left at the intersection, going up a hill and turning left again into a little subdivision. The lots were small and each housed a trailer, separated by patches of tall, scrubby yellow sage grass.
I spotted Molly before I saw home. She was sitting on the trunk of the ancient Accord I had left for her, the bumper held on by bungee cords and a few new dings in the doors. She was in sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt advertising a band I didn’t know, her hair piled up on top of her head in a bun and streaked with unexpected pops of bright blue (I was sure Dad had had words with her over that.)
I had hardly gotten Calamity parked in the driveway before she barreled for me, jumped into my arms and laughed as I twirled her, my knee twinging. When she saw Jackson, her eyes got wide. She released me and dropped to the ground, holding her hand out.
“Molly Morlan.”
When he reached out to shake it, she fist-bumped him instead. He smiled, not his classic smirk or his smooth, fake grin, and the tightness in my chest eased a little. Sometimes it was easy to forget Molly could give people a run for their money; she was the stubbornest, most spirited person I knew.
“Jackson Maddox.”
“I brought backup. Jasmine Miller.” I jerked my thumb over to her, where she leaned against the Jeep with her arms crossed, surveying us with interest.
“Awesome mask. When this is all over, think you could teach me?” Molly’s eyes gleamed.
“Of course! I might need to wash this off though. Don’t want to scare the locals. Got any makeup remover?”
“No problem.” My sister turned to me, her arms crossed. “So, what’s the plan? If Dad sees you, he’ll know something’s up, and if you tell him about Hesper, he’ll freak.”
“Too late for that. When he sees Calamity, he’ll know.”
The four of us trudged inside. Dad was already sitting at the cluttered kitchen table with a steaming mug of coffee, his salt-and-pepper hair more gray now than black. He had raised seven children; he was no fool, and Molly wasn’t nearly as good at sneaking out as she thought she was.
“Happy New Year, Mr. Morlan!” Jackson shouted, as if this would improve the situation.
It did not.
“Dare I ask what brings my eldest home from halfway across the country?” He narrowed his eyes. “Felix Alexander Morlan, is that a wedding ring on your hand?”
Oh, shit.
“Dude, you didn’t tell your dad?”
I smacked Jackson. Not helping, I mouthed.
As I feared, this quickly became a Morlan family meeting. I sat on the kitchen counter with Jackson, Molly sandwiched between us, and Jasmine perched on the end, her feet dangling. My other four sisters and brother trooped in, shepherded by my dad.
He handed me an old, empty glass soda bottle. It was a long-held tradition—whoever held the bottle was the only one allowed to speak. It was how we got through big talks without us all clamoring to be heard over each other. I had never had something quite so big to say as I did now.
They knew about my knee—that my promising athletic career ended before it could ever really start. They knew Hesper let me move in with her after I lost my scholarship and dorm. None of this surprised them. But when I explained our charade—our legally binding contract for free tuition, which eventually turned into a very real, very serious relationship—the bottle code was forgotten. Everyone started talking at once. Jetta, Janie, and Jules all started jumping up and down and screaming. Logan and Anita were shouting, asking questions and demanding answers. The only silent one was Dad, his brows knitted together. I recognized that look. All the puzzle pieces were sliding into place as he remembered my phone call, all the things I didn’t tell him then that suddenly made everything else clear.
“Until he passes the bottle off, hush!”
He seldom raised his voice, but when he did, we all listened. Silence fell. Some things I kept to myself—they were between Hesper and me. I left out her struggles with depression, her sexuality, things that just weren’t mine to tell. But I did tell them about Ray’s steady escalation—letters, phone calls, stalking, breaking in. Abduction was no great leap; we should have seen it coming. When I told them about the video footage proving it was Ray, several of my siblings cringed. All of us knew, for all his outward-facing façade as a good officer and a great man, behind closed doors he was a totally different person. A monster.
“So you already filed a police report. What exactly did you come expecting to do? Burst into his house so he can legally shoot you dead?” Dad glared.
Of course he was right. Missouri had a stand-your-ground law. But here was the truth of it: I had been so focused on getting to her that I had no idea what to do next. Even now, she was probably only a few miles away, but she might as well be on Mars. I hopped off the counter and passed the bottle back to him.
