Chapter 41 Episode 41

I leave the sentence unfinished. The final words are too thorny to get out of my throat. Freya doesn’t have the same hesitation, though. “You’re scared that you’re in too deep. That you might actually fall for him.” She looks unnecessarily stunned by that fact, which does nothing to help alleviate the shame that’s wracking me since the Plaza debacle. Anton was right about me: I crave the drama and the excitement and the rush of the unknown. And if I want that to change, I have to do something different. “I know it’s a lot.” “I’m just glad you’re telling me instead of pulling a Harry Houdini,” says Freya, patting the back of my hand. “What did you think I would do?” I ask. “Just up and leave? Irish goodbye?” She shrugs. “We haven’t been friends that long. You don’t owe me an explanation.” “It’s not about the length of the friendship,” I tell her. “It’s about the strength of the friendship.” She gives me a touched smile. “Yeah?” “Even though Chris didn’t exactly approve of me?” I wave her concern away. “He’s just possessive of me sometimes.” “Yeah, that and the fact that he’s in love with you.” I give her a warning look. “Freya.” “You should explore that,” she says. “He’s a good man. And he’s good for you. Unlike Anton Stepanov.” My attention snaps up. I frown at her. “Have I mentioned his last name to you before?” She looks guilty for a second. “I… I may have done some research.” “Did you actually find anything?” I ask incredulously. She nods, but I can tell by her expression that whatever she’s found is not good. “A thing or two, yeah.” “Oh God. What is it?” “It was just some obscure little article tucked into an online newspaper. It reported on his wife’s death.” “That her death was ruled a suicide but there was quite a lot of skepticism surrounding it. The article was more about the prestige of power. The fact that you can literally get away with murder if you have enough money.” I frown as that processes in my head. “Oh.” “It had obviously been buried in the annals of the internet, Jessa,” she tells me regretfully. “I had to do a lot of digging to find it.” “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “I’m telling you now,” she says. “I only found it last night. I figured the more we know about the guy, the better.” I’m touched that she’s gone to such great lengths for me. “Okay, but the article wasn’t, like, definitive, was it?” “How could it be? It was written by some amateur with a readership that probably consists of blood relatives exclusively. I bet no one took the article seriously, so she published it on the only online rag willing to take the risk.” “Maybe they didn’t take it seriously because it’s just a rumor.” “There’s no smoke without fire, Jessa.” “You think he did it?” I ask, feeling my heart start to race. “I’m just looking at what we know,” she hedges. “We know he’s a murderer. You saw that with your own eyes. So it’s a possibility that he killed his wife, right?” “Right,” I say hesitantly. “But—” “Jessa,” she says, reaching out to take my hand, “listen to me. I’ve been in the exact same position you are now. Torn between my feelings and my instincts. Trust me, I understand how they can pull you in two different directions. He’s a beautiful man, but he’s deadly. And I think leaving might be a good idea.” My heart sinks, despite the fact that it’s exactly the plan I’ve been contemplating since the dinner last night. “Yeah.” “But do you think returning the phone is the best idea?” she asks. “It might still be nice to have some insurance when you run.” “You think I should keep the phone?” “Well, not if you don’t want to. You could leave it with me,” she suggests. “I’m sure Chris doesn’t want the fear. And I would bury it someplace no one could ever get to it. No one would suspect me, either. Most people don’t even know we’re friends.” I consider it for all of five seconds before I shake my head. “No, I can’t do that. I don’t want to put you in danger. It’s bad enough that I involved Chris in all this.” “I’d do it willingly, love.” I smile. “I know you would. But I just… If I’m leaving, I’m leaving with a clean slate.” Freya frowns. “But what if he suspects you’re planning on running?” “Once he has his phone, he’ll have no reason to come after me.” “Unless he thinks you’ll go to the cops,” she argues. She frowns. “You talk as if you know him. As though you know each other.” I bite my tongue to keep from confirming what is probably written all over my face. There are moments when it really does feel like I really do understand Anton, and he really does understand me. Like our souls speak a language no one else can translate. Freya is about to say something else when her phone beeps. She reads the text quickly. For a second, I think something’s wrong. Then she smiles. “Sorry about that,” she says. “Um… I might have to bail right after we pay the bill.” She gives me a secretive smile. “I sort of… met someone.” “Don’t get excited,” she says quickly. “It’s purely casual. But I like him. He’s a good distraction.” “If you need me, though—” I hold up my hands. “I’m good. Don’t worry about me.” She nods. “Okay, but you’ll call me if you need anything?” “Of course,” I say, even though I have no intention of disturbing her tonight. She deserves the distraction she’s looking for. But I already know that nothing will distract me from the change I’m about to make. We pay the bill and walk out of the restaurant together. “You’ll tell me when you’ve made a decision about what you’re going to do?” she asks. “I think I’ve already made a decision,” I admit. “But yeah, I’ll tell you. Don’t worry.” She pulls me in for a hug. “I expect to hear details about this guy later,” I tell her when we pull apart again. She laughs. “I’m not sure you want these kinds of details.” I wrinkle my nose. “Good point.” “Stay safe, Jessa,” she says before walking down the road. I watch until she disappears around the corner. I stand there, feeling an overwhelming sense of loneliness. I’m not sure I want to start fresh somewhere new. I’m not sure I have it in me, to be honest. But I’m also not sure I can survive Anton Stepanov. Which is how I end up standing in front of Chris’s door, one twenty-minute cab ride later. “Hey,” he says, pulling on a sweatshirt as he opens the door. “Come on in.” I shake my head. “I’m not staying. I just came for the phone.” He raises his eyebrows. “You’re giving it back?” He disappears immediately and returns a minute later with the phone in hand. “For the record, I think you’re doing the right thing. How are you going to return it?” “Don’t worry. I’ll handle that part.” “Chris, I can take care of myself, okay?” He looks skeptical. That only makes me dig my heels in. “Can you please just trust me?” “I do trust you,” he insists. “I just don’t trust that shady motherfucker.” Chris frowns. “You’re confident about that?” He looks like he wants to ask a follow-up question, but he decides against it. “Alright. Well… good luck, J. Love you.” His face shifts with some unreadable expression. Maybe Freya was right. Maybe Chris has feelings for me. But I don’t have the mental bandwidth to deal with that possibility right now. “I’ll let you know when I get it off my hands.” Chris nods and then lets out a sharp sigh. “I don’t like you doing this alone.” “I’ve been doing it alone this whole time,” I say without thinking. His eyes narrow. “I’ve been with you the whole time, Jessa. I picked you up in the middle of the night and held onto this phone for you even when I thought it was a bad idea. I’ve been right here every step of the damn way.” “I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “That’s not what I meant. I appreciate everything you’ve done.” The disappointment doesn’t leave his face. “Let me know when it’s gone.” He pauses at the threshold. I search my brain for something to say that will restore our relationship back to how it used to be. Easy and simple. “You’re my best friend, Chris.” They’re not magic words, but they draw a smile out of him at least. “Don’t you forget it.” Feeling buoyed by Freya’s and Chris’s support, I head back to my apartment, confident I’m doing the right thing. Then I open my front door—and stop cold when I see Anton sitting in the chair by the window. And suddenly, I’m not sure of anything at all. Jessa tenses for mere seconds before her shoulders relax and she steps into the apartment. She moves around casually, like I’m not even there, turning on the lights and ditching her coat on the hook behind the door, before walking over to the sofa. There, she drops down into the cushions and throws her feet up. “It’s been a long f*****g day.”