Page 46 of Wicked Lies Grow Wildflowers

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

XANDER

I’ve been waiting for this. I knew eventually, Maeren would connect the last of the dots, and they would lead straight to me.

She’s smart and even more mistrusting than before; she has every reason to be.

I follow her to the kitchen and sit down across the table from her.

She pulls her knees up to her chest and hugs her legs tightly, as if balling herself up will lessen the blow of the answers she’s about to get.

“You can ask me anything. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, I promised you that before and I mean it still.”

“You were stalking me too, weren’t you?” She whispers, her voice breaking on the last syllable.

I cast my gaze away from her face and think about my next words very carefully, not wanting to spook her. “Not like how you thought.”

She sniffles and keeps her gaze cast straight through me. “Meaning… ?” She trails off, expecting me to elaborate, and I don’t want to, but I have to. I have to show her that she can trust me completely, like she used to.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I never left you any notes or trinkets.

Simon owned up to all of that, but I did watch you from afar—mostly.

The first night we met I was immediately drawn to you.

I was only supposed to be out that night for work, but when you ran into me, I couldn’t take my mind off of you.

You infiltrated every one of my senses and you wouldn’t fucking stop, so I sought you out on the dance floor.

” I try not to smile. Her eyes are hard, but I can’t help from softening when I think of the night we met.

I continue on, “I saw you leaving the bar, and I followed you. I followed you all the way home that night and sat outside of your apartment for hours.” I pause for a moment to catch my breath and gauge her reaction thus far.

She’s fiddling with the sleeves of her sweater, her gaze now cast away from me and I clutch my mug of coffee before continuing on.

“I went home and looked you up using your address to search for records. I found out whatever I could about you. Your mother’s name, your birthday, who your best friend was, where you worked, what your hobbies were, everything.

I just had to know everything I could, and I thought that if I just figured you out, I’d be done.

I’d leave it all alone, but the more I learned, the less I could let you go.

” I scrub a hand down my face at how insane I sound to her.

But she wanted the truth and this is it.

“I became fucking obsessed with you. That’s why I contacted you for that fucking house tour.

Damn it, you’re why I bought it altogether.

I needed an excuse to see you, to talk to you.

You’re like a fucking addiction I can’t quit.

A disease I can’t survive.” I stare at her, breathing heavy, noting the tears rolling down her red cheeks.

I have the urge to lick every last one of them away.

“Some nights, when I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t get you out of my fucking head, I’d just drive over here and sit outside for hours.

Being near you, even separated by a street and a few walls, was better than nothing.

I’d look for a light to flicker. The flutter of your curtain, anything.

And then, I’d go back home, fucking hating myself because I just couldn’t let you go.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t purge you out of my system.

And then when I had my first real taste of you, when I fucked you, I knew I’d have to keep you.

I’d need you forever because there was no way I could possibly survive without you,” I finish off, steadying my breathing.

Maeren’s eyes are puffy and bloodshot, snot soaking the collar of her shirt that she keeps using as a tissue.

“I, I think I need to leave,” is all she says to me, and I can feel myself breaking down. I can’t lose her. I can’t fucking lose her again. She wanted honesty and I gave it to her, I don’t want to lie but I can’t fucking lose her.

“Wildflower please?—”

“I need to be alone . I have to be able to process everything on my own. I’m going home. To my home.” Her words are calm but hold a lethal edge, one that’s holding back hysteria.

“Maeren, please, let’s just talk about this, are you sure you want to go back there yet?” I try and reason, my voice cracking on the last word.

She goes silent, taking one deep breath before whispering, “I’ll be fine.

I just need some time to wrap my head around things.

With everything that’s happened, I just need some time.

A couple days maybe. I don’t know, but I’ll let you know when I’m ready to see you again.

Please, don’t fight me on this.” She closes her eyes and lowers her head to her knees. I just want to fucking hold her.

The sorrow in her voice guts me, she sounds utterly defeated, causing me to relent even though it’s the last fucking thing I want to do.

But we won’t get anywhere with our emotions this high, and I know if I push her too hard I’ll regret it.

She just needs some space, even though giving that to her after all we’ve been through feels like a thousand knives stabbing me in the heart.

“Yeah, yeah okay.” I stand up from the table. “Let me help you get your things.”

When Maeren’s standing at my open door, I wrap her in a hug, resting my chin on her head and kissing her crown.

“This isn’t over, Maeren. So take however long you need, but you’re mine.

I’ll wait however long you need me to. There will never be an end to you and me.

” And with that she pulls away and grabs Gracie, leaving my apartment and taking my heart and soul with her.

I bash my fist into my wall before screaming into the quiet space.

We aren’t over, she just needs space, time alone, I remind myself.

It’s just a fight and couples fight all the time, maybe not about shit like this, but still—it’s normal.

We already made it through something even more vicious, we can do it again.

I need to blow off some steam, let some of this aggression out. Luckily my phone rings with a job from Mark. The timing couldn’t be more perfect.

My fist is raw from pummeling this prick’s face in, my clothes soaked in blood from the hours long torture session.

Poor guy’s only missing both hands and is quickly bleeding out, I don’t know why he’s screaming so much.

Though ‘poor guy’ is the wrong term to use.

There’s nothing sad about brutalizing a child predator.

When Mark called I was all too eager and he had just the person for me, a local pedophile who was known to be dallying in child sex abuse material.

The perfect candidate, especially since I like to be nice and slow when enacting these types of hits.

Long and torturous for the worst of the worst means extra therapy for me. Wonderful.

“You know, I really tried to do the right thing with her. I tried to be a good guy to the best of my ability. But you see, I’m not very good to begin with, am I?

” I’ve been entertaining this piece of shit with my relationship woes, choosing my next infliction of pain based on where I’m at in my story.

The prick only offers a small moan in answer.

I guess I shouldn’t have knocked his teeth out so soon, but I really got tired of listening to him bitch and plead for mercy.

“And now, I think she’s scared of me. Me .

” I laugh maniacally, drowning in the irony.

“I’m the one fucking person who would do absolutely anything for her.

I’d bring down the fucking sun and moon if she asked me to.

” My frustration peaks once more and my sledgehammer meets the piece of shit’s right ankle, shattering it on impact, causing him to let out another moan.

I can no longer discern his eyes among the gore, but I look at where they would be anyways. “She has to come back to me. She has to. She’s everything good. She’s all that’s right in the world. She’s fucking perfect . She. Is. Mine. ”

I think about how Simon tried to take her.

To take what was never his. To take what’s been mine for months.

How he touched her, how he wanted her. How he was willing to hurt her, all because she denied his advances.

I let the thoughts of all the ‘ what if’s’ consume me.

What if I didn’t find Simon in time? What if he had gotten to Maeren sooner?

What if she was hurt even more severely?

By the time I’ve worked through all of my worst fears, the red haze has cleared from my vision.

The body lying in a large pool of congealing blood before me is nothing but a messy pulp of raw flesh.

All of the man’s features are distorted, the blood and swelling making the mangled body look like nothing but a slaughtered pile of meat.

Knuckles throbbing and split, I take care of the cleanup myself this time, needing the calm, needing the distraction.

I’m out of second chances with Maeren, and I don’t want to think about what will happen if I fuck up for the final time.

My knuckles still throb as I change the bloodied bandages and apply more antibiotic cream.

My mind feels clearer, but my heart still feels broken.

I’m not a sentimental man by any means, but Maeren’s stolen my whole heart, and I lost it willingly.

It was never mine to hold; my chest was just a temporary home for the sorry organ as I waited for her to claim it.

And she did, and then she dropped it battered and bruised back at my feet, all because I got us so tangled up in lies and deceit.

I open and close my fists a few times to stretch the bandages, before pulling a gray t-shirt over my head. I send Maeren a text, asking her to meet me at a coffee shop.