This time I cried out. That hadn’t been an accident. And now, the way his face had turned from mine, the way he was holding me, pinning me against the wall, it was like he was lost in some fantasy that had nothing to do with me. The lights of the bathroom blurred and the sound of the water muted. I couldn’t catch my breath from the shock and the pain and the steam. My mind spun out, synapses firing chaotically. I couldn’t tell him to stop, to let me go, to—
“Stop. You can’t—” I finally gasped. “You have to stop.”
He did stop. And he stared at me.
I shook my head. “Why did you do that?”
“What do you mean? Do what?” His face looked so blank, it filled me with fury.
“You hit my head. You hurt me, Heath!” My voice, finally, loud and shrill.
His eyes filled with instant regret. “Oh my God, Daph. I didn’t mean . . . I just got caught up . . .”
“Caught up.” I pushed my wet hair out of my face and let out a harsh bark of laughter. Or a wail, I couldn’t tell the difference. “Did you think I liked having my head bashed on the wall? Are you into that sort of—”
He edged toward me. “I’m not. I didn’t realize—”
I put my hand on his chest. “I need you to give me a second, all right?”
I stood there, my fingers splayed against him. Water streamed over my ring and dripped down my arm, and he waited, not moving. But I was already doubting myself. Wondering if I was overreacting. Maybe Heath had just gotten ahead of himself. He was a big guy. Strong. He probably didn’t realize the impact of his strength.
He pressed his chest against my hand. “Daphne.”
My elbow bent, the slightest bit. I couldn’t bear to look at his crushed face anymore. I looked down instead—focused on the tile floor through the sheet of water. It had gone lukewarm.
“Do you want me to leave?” he said. “Just tell me and I’ll go.”
I couldn’t answer him. Yes, I wanted him to go. And I wanted him to stay. I wanted to scratch out his eyes, draw blood from his skin. Scream at him until I was hoarse.
I thought about Annalise Beard. Was this the kind of thing she’d been afraid of? She had said she’d prefer to forget she ever knew him . . .
“I love you so much, Daphne,” Heath said. “I would never intentionally hurt you, I swear.” He held up his hands and it was such a vulnerable gesture, so forlorn, I felt myself waver. All the possibilities flooded through me.
I rested on the most probable one, the one I wanted. He hadn’t meant to hurt me. He loved me, I knew it. This had just been a manifestation of his wild problem—the darkness he hadn’t yet embraced. I hugged myself, closed my eyes, and let the warm water run over me.
“Daphne—”
“No,” I said. “Don’t speak. Don’t say a word. We’re going to start over.”
I took a shaky breath, ran one finger down his streaming chest all the way to his taut abdomen, and let it linger. He closed his mouth.
“None of this happened,” I said. “You and I just got in the shower, and we started kissing.”
I knew it was unreasonable, maybe even foolish, but I just wanted him back, wanted all the hurt and confusion to go away. And why couldn’t we just go back and say it had never happened, if we both agreed to it? The truth was, it wouldn’t have, not if we hadn’t come to Baskens. This strange place was messing with our minds, making us do things we wouldn’t normally do. Feel things we normally didn’t feel.
Like, right now, how a small, dark part of me pictured myself folding Heath into my arms, pulling him close, just so I could hurt him back.
I let my finger, which had been drifting along his stomach, drop to a lower spot.
“We shouldn’t—” he began, but I shook my head.
“You’re a lucky man,” I said. “You’re getting a do-over.”
I took him by the waist, rotating him toward the same wall where he’d just had me pinned. I pressed him against it.
“But I’m in charge now.”
Friday, October 19
Night
By the time I stumble into the little town of Dunfree, it’s dark. I feel like I’ve been jogging for hours, but it’s probably only been forty to fifty minutes at most. I’m freezing, all except my feet, which feel like they’re on fire. My throat is raw with thirst.
Dunfree’s main street is punctuated by street lamps and newly planted maple trees with a few red leaves still determinedly clinging to the spindly branches. Its crown jewel, if you can call it that, is a one-story stone-and-green-metal city hall, squatting halfway down the street. Anchored on either end of the street are two home-style restaurants called, respectively, Mama June’s and Paw-Paw’s. On the drive up, Heath and I ate at Paw-Paw’s.
I wander up and down the sidewalk, from one end of the street to the other, but the green truck is nowhere in sight. For the moment, I’m in the clear.
The sidewalks are crowded with people, and it dawns on me that I’ve hit the Friday-night dinner rush. I haven’t eaten since this morning, and I am desperately thirsty, but I have no money, no wallet, no nothing. I push open the door to Mama June’s (colorful flyers, jangling bell) and wander in, stopping short in the middle of the bustling dining room. There are several boxy old TVs sitting on precarious-looking shelves in each corner of the restaurant, replaying an old Georgia football game. I spot a half-empty glass of water on an unoccupied table, but just as I edge my way over to it, a waitress appears and sweeps it and the rest of the dirty dishes into a plastic tub.
I veer into the bathroom and, at the lone sink, flip on the faucet and duck my mouth under the stream. I gulp and gulp until my stomach begins to cramp and I worry I may vomit. The sound of toilets flushing makes me jerk upright. When three women simultaneously emerge from the stalls, I shut off the faucet, wipe my mouth with my sleeve, and back against the wall.
Chapter Fourteen
Wednesday, October 17
Two Days Before
We ate the lunch that Luca (appearing, then disappearing, before I could catch sight of him) left outside our door. White-bean, bacon, and kale soup, with a slender loaf of crusty bread. Outside, the temperature had dropped dramatically, the cold seeping in through the cracks of the windowpanes. But we were comfortable. Even though it was a small gas affair, the fireplace still packed a wallop. I tried not to notice the way the black fiend’s face glowered out at me from the flames.
After we’d finished eating, Heath swirled the ice in his glass. “I don’t know how else to say this, Daphne. I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve got to stop apologizing. Seriously. It’s done. Over.”
“But we can’t pretend like it didn’t happen,” Heath said.
“I’m not pretending. I just don’t think we have to talk it to death. As a matter of fact, Dr. Cerny even agrees that talking isn’t what keeps a relationship together. He told me that, just today.”
“When did you see him?”
“Earlier. Just briefly, before we . . .”
He nodded. “Hm.”
“And you can wipe the smug look off your face,” I said. “He wasn’t therapizing me. I’m just saying that, although I want to hear about your childhood and everything you went through, there are some things—some parts of us—that we just have to accept.”
“He wasn’t in here, with us. He didn’t see what I did to you.”
“You got carried away, but I’m fine. And it’ll never happen again.”
I took a deep breath. I was sitting calmly, across the table from him. In one piece, not obsessively counting or displaying any discernable signs of a mental breakdown. But was I really fine? So much had happened since we’d gotten to Baskens, so many things had begun to shift and upend between us, I wasn’t sure if I knew what us meant anymore.