Page 51 of Don't Speak

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

I left Amelia’s house feeling a bit better than I was last night.

When I got there last night, I knocked on her door in a state of panic, my face puffy and swollen from crying, and my voice hoarse from screaming.

Just like I thought, she was asleep and hadn’t read my message yet, so she was just as freaked out.

I told her everything that happened. Our date, the sex, telling him I love him , getting home, his weird behavior before bed, and then everything about waking up and finding what I did on his computer. Her mouth was agape the whole time.

She encouraged me to call the cops, but I told her I wanted to wait.

She was pissed, again . I don’t know why I consistently give people the benefit of the doubt, but there’s something nagging at the back of my mind.

He seemed genuine in our interactions. Honest. Loving.

Caring. I don’t feel scared. I guess that’s the only thing stopping me from calling the cops right now.

I need answers. He owes me that much. Then, after I’ve heard what he has to say, I’ll make the decision to call the cops or not, attention be damned.

I pull up to the bar, dreading having to work this shift tonight.

I have to work this shift with Dean tonight, and so many emotions are wreaking havoc on my nervous system.

I’m angry. Angry that I trusted him. Angry that I ignored my gut and valid concerns from my best friend.

Angry that I allowed myself to feel . Angry for letting someone into my heart.

I’m heartbroken. Heartbroken that, yet again, I’m not worthy enough to find true love.

To find true happiness. Heartbroken for breaking down the walls I’ve worked so hard to construct over the years.

They protected me. They kept me safe. And I broke them down over someone who was lying to me from the beginning.

And I’m heartbroken over losing someone I thought I was safe with.

I was so close to happiness, I could taste it.

And for it to happen on the night I told him I love him?

I feel so stupid . I’m smarter than that, and yet, I let him in so easily.

Was any of it real? I fight back the tears beginning to form.

I can’t go into work crying. I can’t let him see how much he hurt me.

On top of all of this, it’s the first shift back since Ben died, and now, after everything I’ve come to learn about Ben, his death just seems like suspicious timing. But would Dean kill him? Is Dean capable of killing someone? At least Cora will be there, so I don’t have to deal with this alone.

Dean’s truck is already in the parking lot.

I sigh, turning off my car and getting out.

I walk to the employee entrance on the side, trying to avoid flashbacks from the attack I endured in this very spot.

Another strange disappearance that just doesn’t sit right.

Shaking the thought away, I walk down the steps and into the door.

My vision tunnels, and I set my sights on the bar.

I just want to get in, get it done, and get out.

Just as I approach the bar to walk around, Dean pops up from behind, picking up broken glass. Startled, I jump.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I accidentally dropped a glass, and it shattered,” he solemnly tells me, motioning to comfort me but jerking back, wincing, remembering our current situation.

I ignore him, moving to one of the registers and placing my purse underneath.

I set about my business, making sure everything is in place for the first night back.

We decided to forgo the lunch shift and open only for the night.

The DJ is currently getting set up in the corner.

I finish organizing the rest of the glasses while Dean sweeps the floor.

I can’t help but look up every so often to watch him, and I’ve caught him doing the same.

I feel stuck between wanting to punch him in the dick and ride it.

Goddamn, why does he have to be so fucking charming?

This hold he has on me is infuriating. Why do I still want him?

I seethe, getting angry with myself for how I’m not feeling how I feel I should in this moment.

When Cora finally arrives, she helps us finish our tasks. I must say, I don’t think this place has ever looked so clean. Sensing the tension between us, Cora asks, “What is up with you two?” She points back and forth between Dean and me. “The tension is so thick in here, you can smoke it.”

I peek up at him from the other end of the bar, tossing the rag in the hamper. “I found out some things about him I’m not quite sure how to handle,” I whisper, looking into her eyes. She ponders for a moment before asking, “Do you like him?”

“Yes. More than I’d like to admit.”

“Do you feel like you’re in any danger?”

“No. I truly don’t.”

“Then talk to him. Hear him out.”

Our conversation is interrupted by the bouncer asking if we’re ready for the doors to open. We both give him the thumbs up before making our way behind the bar. I look over at her, and she gives me a smile and a nod.

If only it were that easy.

The night came and went in the blink of an eye.

The liquor was flowing, and everyone was having a good time.

Several people expressed their condolences about Ben, and others talked about how they missed this place being open.

I avoided Dean like the plague. He attempted to talk to me a few times, but unless it was work-related, I stayed silent.

I knew if I opened my mouth, I would have exploded, and I didn’t want to do that here. I’m just so angry and confused.

I called the sheriff’s office where my mother lives, and they confirmed her disappearance.

When they confirmed it, I lost my shit on them for not calling me.

They haven’t had any leads, either. Then, when I hung up, I broke down crying at the fact that I still care.

This woman has ruined my entire soul, and yet, somehow, I still worry about what happens to her.

My mind battled with my heart, alternating between rage and depression pretty much all day.

After the shift, my body and mind are exhausted, so I know I need to make this impending conversation quick.

“If you need anything, call me,” Cora tells me as she grabs her purse from under the bar.

“I’m serious.” She leans in and gives me a hug before waltzing toward the exit.

She stops before she reaches it, turning to look at Dean and saying, “If you break her heart, I will gut you.” I see a small smirk grace his face before he stills his expression. Cora leaves without another word.

The rest of the staff have gone home for the night as well, leaving Dean and me alone.

The silence doesn’t last long before Dean says, “I’m sorry.

I never meant to hurt you.” He looks at me with something almost akin to pain in his eyes.

I can tell he means it, but my emotions haven’t gotten the memo yet.

My skin gets hot, and I clench my fists, noticing that anger seems to be the one to make the first appearance.

“You’re SORRY?! For which part exactly?” I scream, throwing my hands in the air.

The second those words come out, I can’t seem to stop.

“Keeping my mother’s disappearance from me, stalking me, keeping the fact that Ben was the one weirdly leaving photos on my doorstep, or how about the cameras you planted all around my house?

” I put a finger up with each count, holding up the number four with my right hand.

My body is thrumming with anger, and my throat constricts, knowing that tears are inevitably going to come.

“I just wanted to keep you safe, little lioness,” he breathes out, running a hand through his hair, fighting back his own emotions to allow space for mine first.

“No. Don’t ‘little lioness’ me right now, Dean. You’ve been lying to me. Was any of it real?” I choke out, feeling my heart constrict again at those words. I just wanted it to be real.

“Of course it was real—IS real. I was planning on telling you everything; it was just never the right moment.” His face looks pained, and it makes my heart constrict again.

“Well, I’d say right now is the right moment, Dean. Talk. Who are you?”

He sighs, contemplating his next words and running a hand through his hair again.

“And for the love of God, don’t lie to me again. I want the truth.” I say that last part with the utmost seriousness I can muster in my cracked voice.

He looks at me once more before he spills everything.

“My name is Dean Miller. My sister was Charlie Miller,” he confesses, his eyes becoming glossy.

I’m taken aback a bit, trying to rack my brain on where I know that name from. When it dawns on me, my eyes widen. “No.” My heart rate kicks up.

“Yes,” he breathes out, walking toward me, knowing this information is like a punch to the stomach.

The man I’ve been sleeping with for weeks is the brother of the girl who took her life after what Sean did. Tears form in my eyes, and my chest aches, feeling like I’ve just been stabbed directly in the heart. The air rushes out of my lungs, leaving me with a feeling of suffocation.

“How could you keep this from me?!” I scream. He’s standing in front of me now. “Why are you here?” I pound on his chest. “WHY.” Pound . “Me?” Pound .

He tries to grab my wrists, but I push him against the chest, and he takes a few steps back, regaining his balance.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you since the trial.

Something about you captivated me, and I wanted to know more.

I kept my distance at first, but when I received notification of Sean’s escape, I decided to introduce myself. I knew it wasn’t safe for you.”

“Why don’t I recognize you if you’re Charlie’s brother?” I say with a rush, breezing past what he just said.

“I kept myself out of the spotlight. I sat in the back, observing. I didn’t want my face broadcasted because I knew one day I’d need to get revenge.”

“Revenge?” I question, a roiling feeling forming in my stomach.

“I’ve always had a plan to kill Sean for what he did to my sister.”

I stare at him in shock at his confession.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d always hoped the fucker suffered in prison.

I had dreamed about him becoming someone’s bitch, suffering like his victims suffered before ultimately being killed by a prison guard or prisoner, but hearing the idea of murder come from the man I fell in love with is shocking.

“So you planned to just kill him one day, and what? Get away with it?” I question again, disbelief washing over me that he feels like he is capable of that.

“Yes,” he says matter-of-factly.

“How does someone who has never killed before expect to get away with murder?”

There’s a long pause as he stares at me, his expression falling to one of sorrow, and my heart sinks, vomit threatening to work its way up.

“You’ve killed before,” I whisper, the words coming out as a statement rather than a question.

He nods. “I have.”

“How many?”

“Dozens over the last several years. It’s what I do for a living.”

“So, you’re telling me that you’ve been killing people as a job?”

“Yes. I'm mostly hired by victims’ mothers. When the justice system has failed them and leaves their child’s abuser on the street, they contact me to handle it.”

“So you make a living killing pedophiles.” Again, I say it as a statement.

“That’s correct.”

He seems so nonchalant when talking about murder; it’s concerning. But also… hot? Shit, no, Nikki. Murder is bad. But I mean, if he’s going to kill anyone, I’m glad they’re child abusers.

I can’t do anything right now but stare. Then, it dawns on me.

“Eric?”

A flash of fury graces his eyes before it softens. “The night I wrote the note on the receipt,” he starts, but I chime in.

“Oh, you mean the one about people not being who they seem? Yeah, I remember that one well.” I glare at him, hoping he feels the fury beneath it, and he winces.

I’m angry and lashing out, and he knows it, so he doesn't even address that comment with a response. He just continues. “He was planning on raping you and recording it. He had two buddies here that night, and I overheard them talking about you. When I left the bar, I waited out back. I heard you screaming and saw you running. When you weren’t looking, I grabbed him and dragged him into the darkness until you drove off. I… disposed of him. So he couldn’t hurt you anymore.

Afterward, I went to his buddy’s apartment.

I found tapes that they’ve been recording of raping unconscious or semi-conscious women. He deserved it.”

My head is spinning. “So it was you who texted Ben to let him know he was leaving town,” I questioned, putting the pieces together.

“Yes. And because the dickwad really didn’t have any true friends, no one questioned it.”

I move to sit on a barstool, my legs suddenly feeling weak. He maintains his distance, but I can sense that it’s killing him.

“So you came into my life to protect me,” I state. He nods.

“Were you protecting me from Ben?” The question lingers in the air. My eyes well with tears again. I’m scared to know the answer.

“I planted the cameras after Eric attacked you. I was worried his friends would try next. It turns out, Ben was watching me plant the first one and knew to avoid it, so I went back and planted a different exterior one. When the second one caught Ben leaving it, I was just as shocked as you. I confronted him at the bar and caught him stealing from the safe in his office. He’d told me he had received a call a few weeks after you started working here.

He was originally told to keep an eye on you and report back.

The caller would call him once a week to check in.

Then, it escalated to the photos, and he was required to not only place one on your porch but also take one to a remote cabin in the woods.

He was reporting back to Sean. I couldn’t let that stand. ”

I gasp, my hand quickly covering my mouth. “So.. so you killed him?!” I shake my head in pure disbelief. My palms begin to sweat with the amount of anxiety coursing through my veins in this moment.

“Yes. But I did so to protect you,” he pleads, repeating his earlier statement. He starts to move toward me, but it feels like the walls around me are starting to cave in, and I lash out once more.

“I didn’t ask for your protection, Dean!

I’m a big girl! I can take care of myself!

” My heart rate increases, and my vision tunnels.

I’m starting to hyperventilate, and I know it’s too late.

The panic attack hits me like a freight train.

The world begins to spin, and I can faintly hear Dean call my name a few times.

The noises get further into the distance until, suddenly, everything goes black.