Page 49 of Somewhere Without You

Forty Seven

A loud crash jolted me awake. At the foot of the bed, Winston stirred, ears pricked, tail rigid. For a moment, I thought it was just the storm. Rain hammered the roof, and lightning flared behind the curtains, casting fleeting shadows across the room. A sharp roar of thunder rolled in after.

“It’s just a thunderstorm,”I grumbled to Winston.“Go back to sleep.”

I was about to lie back down when I heard it again. The sharp, splintering sound of glass breaking.

Someone was in the house.

Winston sprang from the bed, a low growl rumbling in his throat. I snatched the candlestick from the nightstand and crept toward the door.

Another crash. Followed by the unmistakable sound of something being dragged.

I pictured Jackson downstairs, tearing the house apart, smashing memories with his bare hands—waiting for me in the dark.

My heart pounded in my chest, loud enough that I was sure whoever was downstairs could hear it. I paused at the door, straining to listen. Another thud echoed from below—closer this time. I tightened my grip on the candlestick.

I eased the door open, its hinges groaning. I froze, wincing. The storm outside covered some of the noise, but not enough.

Step by step, I crept down the hallway. Every floorboard felt like it screamed beneath my feet. The hallway ended at the landing, where the stairs curved down into the darkness.

A dim glow flickered faintly below, like candlelight or maybe the broken remains of a flashlight. I leaned over the banister, trying to get a glimpse of the intruder.

Then I caught movement as a shadow shifted across the wall.

“Jackson?”I called out before I could stop myself.

Silence.

Winston snarled, his hackles raised as he crept down the stairs, one careful step at a time. I followed, the candlestick still clutched in my hand like it would be enough to save me.

A low creak bled through the silence. Whoever was down here wasn’t trying to be quiet anymore.

I paused at the base of the stairs. Books had been swept from the shelves.

Picture frames lay face down or shattered.

The armchair had been knocked over, one leg snapped clean off.

The glow I’d seen from upstairs came from the lamp in the corner, now lying on its side, casting warped shadows across the room.

Next to it, the coffee table lay overturned, its splintered legs jutting out like broken limbs. Below the mantle, Gran’s urn was on its side, porcelain cracked, her ashes spilled like dark, fine sand across the faded rug.

Then I saw it. A single muddy footprint near the open door—too small to be Jackson’s.

Someone else was here.

Winston lunged forward with a bark, and a figure stepped from the shadows.

“Call him off,”came a soft, birdlike voice.

I froze, dropping the candlestick to the floor.“Madeline?”

She stepped into the low light and I blinked, unsure if my eyes were playing tricks on me. But it was her.

Madeline moved closer, and I sucked in a breath. In her right hand, was a gun. . . and it was leveled at Winston.

“Now, or I’ll shoot!”

“Winston,”I said, my voice trembling.“Go.”

He glanced back at me, confused.

“Now!”I barked, jerking my head toward the stairs.

Startled by the sharpness in my voice, he turned and bolted, claws scraping the floor as he bounded up the steps. A moment later, the sound of his paws faded.

Madeline jerked the gun toward the couch.“Sit,”she ordered.

I obeyed without argument.

“What the hell are you doing here?”I asked, panic threading through my voice.

But she didn’t answer me, not right away.

A flash of lightning illuminated the room, and for a fleeting second, I saw her clearly. This wasn’t the composed, polished woman I’d seen last week. That Madeline had perfect hair, flawless makeup, and a tight, practiced smile.

This one looked hollowed out. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her crystal eyes, and a bone-deep restlessness clung to her shoulders.

She continued pacing in front of me, gun still raised.“You shouldn’t have come back,”she said, her voice brittle.“You should’ve stayed in California. None of this would’ve happened if you’d just stayed away.”Finally, she stopped pacing, her wild eyes snapping to mine.“Why did you come back?”

My gaze drifted to Grans urn, my heart breaking at the sight of her ashes scattered like dust across the floor.

“My grandmother died,”I whispered.“You know that.”

Madeline let out a sharp laugh.“No, no, no,”she said, shaking her head.“I did a little digging on you, Emily Hart. Or should I say. . . Emily Bishop .”

It wasn’t exactly a secret that I was married, but the way she said it sent a shot of panic through my chest.

“How’s that husband of yours anyway?”she asked, her voice laced with venom.“Or do you even know? Since you’ve been so busy playing house with mine .”

My eyes widened. Lightning flared again, followed by a crack of thunder that rattled the windows. In the flash, I saw her hands trembling, the gun wavering ever so slightly.

“You really thought I didn’t know about you and Logan?” she said, tilting her head with a cold smile. “Sneaking around behind my back like a couple of cowards.”

“I didn’t know you two were married,”I confessed.“I only found out when I saw you at the hardware store.”

She took a step closer, jaw clenched.“Was that before or after you fucked him?”

“We didn’t—”I started, but stopped. There was no point. She wasn’t interested in the truth.

Madeline resumed pacing, more agitated now.“I didn’t want it to come to this,”she mumbled.“I thought if I scared you enough, you’d run back to California and leave everything alone. Leave him alone.”

I stared at her, the pieces clicking into place. My breath caught.“Oh my god. . .”My voice trembled as realization crashed into me like a giant wave.“The door. . . the rock through the window. . . the car. All of it. That wasn’t Jackson—it was you .”

Madeline’s lips curled into a cold, triumphant smile.“You’re harder to scare off than I thought. So when the subtle warnings didn’t work, I had to move on to plan B.”

“Was this your plan B?”I asked, nodding at the barrel, only inches away.

“No silly,”she replied with a satisfied smirk.“This was plan C.”

I watched as she reached for the photo of Gran, still standing on the mantle. Her fingers curled around the frame, examining it. Then, without a word, she let it drop. It hit the floor with a dull crack, the glass splintering across Gran’s face. A soft, involuntary whimper escaped my throat.

“I have to admit,”she said, turning back to me,“your husband was a hard man to track down. But not impossible.”

“ You brought Jackson here?”I asked, forcing my voice to stay level.

“I thought it was the right thing to do.” She adjusted her grip on the gun. “You are his wife, after all. He deserved to know you’ve been sneaking around with another man.”

My pulse roared in my ears. I tried to stay still, to hide the rage boiling in my chest, but it was no use. Anger burned hot on my tongue.

“You bitch,”I cursed.“Do you have any idea—”

“Ah, ah, ah,”she cooed, waving the gun in my face.“One more outburst like that and it’ll be your last.”

My voice lowered, ripe with fury.“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Jackson could’ve killed me.”

“He could have,”she said with a casual shrug.“But he didn’t. Logan made sure of that. He really can’t help himself when it comes to saving you.”She paused, then tossed a phone onto the couch beside me.“Speaking of which. . . call him.”

I stared at my phone like it had grown teeth.“Where did you get this?”

Madeline rolled her eyes.“You ought to be more careful about where you leave your things.”

My stomach twisted.

“ Call him ,”Madeline snapped.

My fingers shook as I unlocked the phone and dialed Logan’s number.

It rang once. Twice.

“Emily?”His voice came through, groggy and thick with sleep.“Is everything okay?”

Madeline leaned in, her eyes sharp as knives.“Tell him Jackson’s here,”she whispered into my ear.

“Jackson’s here,”I repeated.“I need you to come. Now.”

“I’m on my way,”Logan answered, suddenly wide awake.“I’ll be there in—”

The line cut out. Madeline had snatched the phone and ended the call without flinching. She flung it across the room, where it hit the wall with a loud thud before clattering to the floor.

“He was a wreck when you left. Did you know that?”Her voice steady.

“Do you have any idea what it did to him, coming home to find his perfect little Emily gone? And after everything he did for you?”She shook her head, almost laughing.

“I was the one who picked up the pieces. Me . I stitched him back together when you tore him apart.”

She started pacing the room again, voice rising.“And what do I get for all of it? A lying, cheating husband and a messy divorce.”

I could see her unraveling now. She wasn’t holding it together anymore—just holding on.

“Madeline, I’m sorry.I never meant—”

“SHUT UP!”she screamed, the gun jerking up to meet me again.“Shut the fuck up! You’re not sorry. You’re just sorry you got caught.”Her blue eyes narrowed, wild and wet.“You weren’t supposed to come back. You weren’t supposed to stay. And Logan—he was never supposed to choose you.”

My voice barely found its way past the knot in my throat. “I didn’t ask him to.”

“No,”she snapped, stepping closer. I could feel the coolness of the barrel against my skin.“But you didn’t tell him no, either.”

“You don’t have to do this,”I said carefully.“We can fix this.”

She let out a sharp laugh.“There is no fixing this. Not anymore.”

A deep roll of thunder rumbled overhead, followed by an engine. Seconds later, the front door crashed open, and Logan burst inside, eyes wide, adrenaline pumping.

When he saw Madeline, he stopped.

His gaze bounced from her to me, then froze on the gun between us.“What the fuck is this?”

Madeline kept the gun trained on me, her breath shallow and uneven.