I was expecting to be met with anger and insults but what I saw in his face was sorrow and resignation. He took my hand in his and just held it. We were both submerged in the quiet mourning of a relationship we knew was ending even though neither of us were ready to say it out loud, to discuss divorce lawyers and dividing up the house. Ethan wiped away tears from my cheeks before I realised they were there.
He let me go.
I took my coat and left the house, my heels clicking down the stone steps. I strode past the car, deciding instead to walk home, and come back for it tomorrow. It was cold, my breath streaming out in front of me. You can pour years into a relationship, pour into it hopes for the future, memories from your childhood, mix laughter and sex and love into it and with one conversation on a sunny, freezing afternoon in January, you pull the plug and watch it all drain away.
You’d be proud. I know you would. I couldn’t imagine how Mum and Dad would react. Even now, as I write this in my bed, I still can’t think about how they’ll take the news.
Anyway, I walked and walked without any idea of where I was headed. I wasn’t ready to go home, back to a big empty house I knew I couldn’t afford to keep without Ethan. I know so much about him, so much useless information which up until an hour before was as essential to me as air: the way he takes his coffee, how he likes to be touched, his plans for our future.
Then I looked up and you know where I was? Your house. Again. Only, it’s not yours anymore. The landlord has rented it out to someone else. Mum and Dad were horrified, worried the new tenants were morbidly fascinated by your disappearance, but there is a young couple in there now who moved from Bristol. Weeks ago, we had to pack up all your things and put them in storage because we are clinging to the hope you will one day return. I saved your vase though, the pretty green one Noah made for you. It’s safe on my bedside table.
I stood at the gate and stared at the house. The bedroom light winked on. If I cleared my mind of the truth, I could pretend it was you up there in that room, climbing into bed with a book and a tea, your stray cat curled up beside you.
I turned, searching, started making noises to attract your cat. I completely forgot to come back for her. I’d asked Ethan about taking Seefer in, but he was so disgusted by the idea, I dropped it. I spent another twenty minutes looking for her with no luck.
By the time I got home it was dark. Ethan had been and gone, taking with him a couple of suitcases and most of his clothes. I tried not to worry about what I’d tell him if he asked for the engagement ring and wedding band back; they were still missing. I know Jack has them even if I can’t prove it, just as I am sure he has you too.
Chapter Forty-Six
154 Days Missing
Elodie Fray
There’s a soft click.
I open my eyes.
There is no explosion of noise and fire. His chest does not rip open like a pomegranate. There is no blood splatter on my face.
There is only me and Jack and the hard barrel of a rifle between us.
He stares, a chilling mixture of amusement and rage, but his emotions are merely watercolours compared to the vivid ink of my disappointment and fear.
‘Safety’s on,’ he says, voice low and velvety, like he’s telling me a dirty, intimate secret.
Then he darts forward, seizing the barrel. I jerk away. My foot catches and I topple backwards. Jack, still holding the gun, topples too. He crashes down beside me in a flurry of powdery snow. I let go of the rifle. Then I’m up and running, running, running. Branches snatch at my hair and skin but I don’t slow. I’m careful to avoid dips and fallen logs. It’s icy and I slip and skid but don’t stop. Jack is behind me, bellowing my name. I don’t look back, not this time. I am wild and untamed; an animal running to stay free.
My chest is tight and aches from the cold; I’m gasping for breath but adrenaline surges and I sprint. I need to make it to the road. I’m going the wrong way. I veer right, risking a glance over my shoulder. Jack isn’t far behind. He is all muscle and rage as he hurls himself after me.
I hear the whoosh of a car.
It fades almost as soon as it begins. I sob with relief and run in the direction of the noise. Through the trees I see the flash of a passing vehicle.
‘Stop!’ I choke. ‘Stop!’
But it’s already gone. I put my head down and run faster.
‘Elodie!’ His voice is loud, closer now.
The wind shrieks, slapping my cheeks with razor-laced palms, my fingers are numb with cold and my heart gallops in my chest. I’m almost there, I’m almost—