Burn Down the Night (Everything I Left Unsaid #3)- Molly O'Keefe Page 0,104
the neighbors heard me. I spun and put my fists down on the kitchen counter. Right on top of a piece of yellow notepaper with my name written across the top.
She’d written a note. A goddamn goodbye note.
Max
I’m sorry. Jennifer called. She got away from Lagan and she needs help. I’ve gone to get her. Thank you, Max. For everything. This week was the nicest week of my life, and no, I’m not joking. And no, I’m not just talking about the sex. You’re a good man, Max Daniels. Better I think than you give yourself credit for. I hope so many things for you, Max. I hope you connect with your brother. And I hope you find a woman who treats you right.
And I hope you get that boat.
Signed,
Olivia (my real name)
PS: Tell Aunt Fern…shit. I don’t know. Tell her I’m sorry I always disappoint her.
Jesus. I crumpled the note in my fist and fought the urge to send that fist through the drywall next to the sink. Gone. Just like that. And without even considering that anyone would help her. Fern. Eric.
Me.
The keys to her car were gone. But my phone was still plugged into the charger. I turned it on and called up the app that would track her. My gut in knots, I watched the circle spin over blank green space and then, all at once the screen was a map of Georgia and she was a blinking red dot traveling toward Atlanta on the I-75.
She was hours ahead of me.
I called her but I knew, even as it rang, that she wouldn’t pick up. She’d left a note. Said her goodbyes. She was back to living her life on her own terms and all by herself. The ringing stopped and clicked over to voicemail.
“This is Joan. Leave a message.”
I hung up and called her again, imagining her in the car, trying to ignore the phone. She wouldn’t put it on silent, she was hoping—always hoping—her sister might call.
“This is Joan. Leave a message.”
I hit redial. This time she answered on the second ring.
“Max.” Her voice was exasperated and sad and it wrapped around my stone-cold heart and squeezed it so hard I thought I might die. Right there. “Please. Don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what?” I asked.
“Make it harder.” Well, I liked that it was hard for her. That I wasn’t alone feeling like my guts had been ripped out. I took a deep breath and pressed my fingers into my eyes.
“What the hell are you doing?” I turned and put my back to the fridge, letting the metal hold me up.
“Saving my sister.”
“What about the lawyer? The FBI? Bringing down Lagan?”
“All I want is to get my sister back. She’s alone and she’s scared and nothing else matters except that. You…get that, right? I mean, I know you do.”
I did and she knew it. I swore into the phone.
“You know,” she whispered. “I stayed up last night and I imagined what we would be like if we were different people.”
That made me laugh, even though I didn’t want to. Even though nothing was funny.
“And what are we like as totally different people?”
“The same, sort of. Where it counts. But you’re a mechanic—”
“And you’re a nurse?”
“Sure. And we met at a bar. You were playing pool and I ruined your shot.”
“On purpose.”
“Maybe.” I could hear her smiling. I could see this story play out. “But I buy you a drink to apologize.”
“And I buy the next one.”
“I give you my number—”
“Fuck that. You come home with me.”
“Not Nurse Olivia. She’s got rules about these things.”
“I’m not sure I like Nurse Olivia.”
“You love Nurse Olivia.”
Our laughter dried up as if our fantasy had revealed too much, and then I realized all of a sudden there was no too much. There was only now or never.
“Stop the car and wait for me. We’ll go together.”
I heard the faint shudder of her breath and I imagined her crying. No, my Joan, she’d be holding those tears back. I imagined her biting her lip and doing everything she could not to cry.
Fuck. This hurt.
“You know as well as I do that there’s a good chance this is a trap—”
“Joan—”
“Think about it, Max.”
“Stop the car.”
“Remember how you came back from Arizona?”
“Stop the fucking car.”
“We’re so much alike that way, you know? Anything for our family. Anything. And if it isn’t a trap, and she really did get free, there isn’t room for you and for all the help my sister is