Guilty of Romance
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I was on the run.
And I knew it—even if I didn’t admit that out loud to myself very often. But I couldn’t be there anymore. There was no place for me, not now. Not when everyone else around me needed me more than ever. And I just… well, I was scared, but that wasn’t even it.
I wanted my mother and father and sister to be safe more than anything. I wanted them to have a better life after I was gone. After I left, I had a feeling that wouldn’t happen. Not if they stayed here. They’d always be in danger, especially with me going.
And I would always have regrets about that. I would regret that I didn’t do something sooner, or better, to keep them safer, or happier. It’s why I felt so guilty. But what else could I do?
The only way I could help them was by being gone—by getting rid of the risk they were all in simply because I hadn’t been strong enough to save my family. And so I fled because that’s what I had to do. So I wouldn’t feel so horrible every day, and I would never feel like I didn’t deserve it again.
Because I didn’t.
And yet, I had this dream—a nightmare, really. It was always the same thing.
I’d wake up, sweating and my heart racing, and then it would happen again and again like I was doomed to repeat the scene over and over until someone finally stopped it. Until I did something. I didn’t know what, exactly, it was I could possibly do, or who I could ask, but I would find out.
Somehow. Because it kept happening—it happened whenever I let down my guard and slept at night. And the last time, I woke up to see the man standing in my bedroom window, the same man that was supposed to be dead. And he was looking at me…
“I’m not a ghost,” I said aloud, shaking my head, but he continued to stare at me with a sad expression on his face as he stared at my chest, and then looked away quickly. I sighed heavily and stood up, pulling my comforter tightly around me as I went over to my dresser mirror, turning so that I could look at myself.
“Not a ghost.” The man that had been staring at me from behind my closed curtains didn’t want anything to do with ghosts any more than I wanted him there.
So why couldn’t I stop seeing him? How had he managed to keep finding me? Had he followed me here somehow, when I’d escaped the mansion? Or did he follow me to Chicago once I’d moved away? Why had he decided to return so soon after I’d left?
What did he want now, other than to make sure I knew he still wasn’t gone? And what was going on inside his head that made him act like that—like he thought he was cursed, or haunted, or trapped like he was trapped in some terrible nightmare instead of free now…
I rubbed my forehead before walking out of the bedroom, pausing for a moment in my walk-in closet to pull out a black silk shirt, pulling it over my head as I headed into the kitchen. The sun was rising outside, just another beautiful day in paradise as far as I was concerned, and I had plans for it. Plans to make money, find a job, and try to help my family. All while getting out of this town.
“I’ll start small,” I said to myself. “Small businesses that I can afford. Then I’ll work my way up.”
That’s what my father told me to do when I started thinking about leaving. He said the best way to make money was through investments and stocks and bonds—which, as he had pointed out to me, meant more taxes to pay off, but I had no intention of trying to avoid paying them. Not after everything they had done for me.
My father had always wanted the best for me, even if the best had come at such a great cost.
But the best was worth it, and so were the sacrifices I had made. It was all a small price to pay for my life and my happiness. And so, I headed into the living room to grab my laptop, headed back toward the balcony, and opened my computer screen before sitting down on one of the chairs there. A smile appeared on my face as I started to type in a search for businesses for sale.
There was a small cafe just around the corner that had caught my eye earlier, but I knew from talking with a few people already that most of the small shops around here didn’t pay their employees much and often kept them in the dark about certain things, especially how the business had really been doing.
And while that was fine for me now, as I could get the same jobs and know how much they would pay me, once I’d saved enough money and got established I wanted to be sure that it was only through reputable companies and businesses so I never found myself stuck with a shady company ever again.
I didn’t want to feel like I owed anyone anything or that I needed to do something else simply because I had taken on another job, but I was grateful that I would have a good source of income and maybe I would even be able to help out my family in some way. It seemed like the right time for that to happen.
“You’re going to make this work,” I told myself with a determined look as I opened up the browser to type in the cafe’s address and then looked at the map to see where it was located. “No matter what.” Because even if I couldn’t stop the nightmares that haunted my dreams, I would find a way to control my own life, instead of being at someone else’s mercy again. Even if that meant taking on a few extra jobs along the way.
A knock came at the door and I paused in my typing as I glanced at the time on my computer, knowing I should probably start heading over to that cafe before it closed in an hour or two and wondering who could possibly be stopping by unannounced today, considering no one else knew I lived here yet, not even my own sister.
Then I remembered that I had given the name of my old address when I had applied for the job at the diner. My mother’s house. The one that my aunt and uncle owned. And I felt my lips curl up into a smile as I realized that I hadn’t mentioned my aunt and uncle living with us either.
I’d just made up a different set of names and addresses so that no one could find me here, as I had wanted to keep my own secret safe until I could come back and help out and maybe get some answers as to what really happened the night of the fire, as well as why my parents’ lives had been cut short, too.
Maybe it wouldn’t be long before I could go home for good.
I glanced outside as a small figure walked past my balcony and stopped next to the pool, looking toward the ocean and letting out a small sigh before turning back to the building again. He was tall and slender, with dark hair and light brown eyes and he appeared to be wearing a suit as he held something in his hands.
I frowned as he turned again, walking toward the pool and pausing for a moment on the other side of the fence, then heading down the walkway toward where I sat, his steps slow as if he were unsure about what he was doing.
But he was here, at least, which meant there was some kind of communication happening between me and my sister and maybe I would be able to help her somehow as well. Even if it wouldn’t be through our own conversation—not this time at least. Instead, it would likely be through her talking with another person.
A third party. One who could offer her a way to help herself, but still not allow her to have control over the situation, as she’d told me once before that she never wanted anyone else making decisions for her life or being the one in control.
But as someone else already seemed to be trying to do that for her now, maybe I could give her an option where she wouldn’t feel like she had no power at all.
And then, when things got really bad and she started to lose hope again, maybe I could be there for her in some way. To remind her that she didn’t have to do this alone and she didn’t have to suffer through everything alone anymore, especially as someone else who would never judge her for her secrets or for the choices she’d made so far.
And she could be strong. And independent. And free from any of the darkness that seemed to have consumed us for too many years.
A knock sounded on the door and I frowned again as I stood up and moved to the side of my desk before reaching out and pushing open the door just enough to see who it was.
When I realized who it was, my smile grew wider and I waved him inside as I closed the door behind him and then glanced around for someplace to sit before glancing back at the man who had stepped closer to me.
He hadn’t said a word, but his eyes were curious as they moved from my face down to my bare feet, where he paused and took in a deep breath as he let it out slowly, before moving toward the chair that faced the bed, which was currently pushed against one wall, leaving more space between us than we usually did during our conversations.
I knew this wasn’t something that he normally did and yet here I was, inviting him inside again, even after what had happened last time. I had thought I would be able to keep myself safe if I kept him at arm’s length and only let him in on a need-to-know basis, but I’d been wrong about that.
Because I still needed help and he was the one who was always willing to offer it. No questions asked.
My fingers lingered over the edge of the bed, almost like I wanted to pull it away from the wall and push it into the middle of the room, to be closer to him, even though that was dangerous now. If I did that, there would be nothing to stop me from taking the chance of kissing him.
From going further than we’d gone before. And yet, that wasn’t something I wanted to do. Not when things were so confusing already with this whole situation—with him and everything else. So, I forced my fingers down and let my hand drop as I took in a slow breath and reminded myself why we couldn’t be together anymore.
Because I didn’t have the right to want that kind of connection or the freedom to choose how to live my own life. I’d hurt him before. And I might end up hurting him again. But if I didn’t take chances now, then when would I?
I glanced back at him again, my smile growing wider as I moved away from the door and headed toward where he stood. “Come on,” I said as I opened the top drawer of my desk and pulled out one of the blankets I had stored there. “Let’s go outside.”
The End