Unravel (27 page)

“What?” I ask wearily.

“I think you should take a weekend pass.”

“A weekend pass,” I repeat.

“I know these sessions have been wearing you down, but you’re making significant improvement. I think a weekend pass would be beneficial for you.”

When Lachlan first mentioned the idea of a weekend pass, I didn’t store too much faith in the idea. And when I broke down in group therapy, I thought my chances of ever having my freedom had disintegrated into thin air. But, here I am, given a chance to have my freedom. Even if it does have an expiration date.

I stare at her skeptically. It feels like there’s a catch that comes along with this opportunity.

“Would you like that?”

I nod. “Y-yes!” I stutter.

“If you don’t think you’re ready for it, you don’t have to take it.”

“I am,” I say quickly. “I am. I’m just skeptical.”

“There’s nothing to be skeptical about. Everyone needs a break.” She shrugs. “This is your break.”

I exhale loudly. “I’ll do it.”

“Great!” she says triumphantly as she stands up. “Mary will help you pack your bag tomorrow and you can be on your way.”

One small, but very important factor, finally hit me. “Who’s picking me up?” I ask.

“Lachlan.”

My fears slam into me swiftly. I can picture Dr. Rutledge talking to Lachlan, telling him that I truly am insane and that I will never get out of this place. Even though Dr. Rutledge has proven herself to me, it doesn’t matter when old insecurities never die.

I think she sees the fear in my eyes. She lays a hand on my shoulder and looks at me with concern.

“I’ve spoken to him once,” she says gently. “He spoke to me last week about a weekend pass, and that’s it. You have nothing to worry about.”

I swallow. “Thanks,” I whisper.

“Now,” she grins, “get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day.”

The next evening, I’m walking down the hall with my overnight bag in hand. Mary is right next to me; Lachlan is in front of me. His back is facing me and he’s talking to Dr. Rutledge.

I revert back to teenage Naomi. The one that turns red around him. Whose lips split into a ridiculously bright smile while her heart flips wildly in her chest.

Dr. Rutledge looks over Lachlan’s shoulder at me. Her brows lift and she smiles. “Good morning, Naomi.”

Lachlan turns and looks at me. He gives me a one-sided grin. I think my heart just dropped down to my stomach.

He’s dressed in a simple pair of jeans, dark blue shirt and a brown jacket. He looks so relaxed and at ease. He’s never looked sexier. “Look at you,” he says and reaches to take my bag.

“I know. Can you believe it?” I lift up my foot. “I have laces on my shoes.”

Mary actually laughs. Holy shit. Who knew she had a drop of humor inside of her. But in all seriousness, putting on clothes—that weren’t sweats—and wearing shoes, makes me feel as if a piece of myself is clicking right back into place.

Lachlan’s grin stays in place as his eyes sweep me from head to toe. There’s a heavy sense of anticipation in my stomach because the minute we walked out the front doors he would be all mine. There would be no nurses checking up on us, or telling him that it was time to go.

I pull my eyes away from him and glance at Dr. Rutledge. “Am I good to go?”

She holds a clipboard between us. “You just have to sign off on a few papers.” She puts it on the counter next to me and hands me a pen.

I scan the contents on the page quickly. It’s basically a sign out form saying that I, as the patient, or the guardian of the patient, understand what a weekend pass entails.

I glance at Dr. Rutledge. “I don’t need my parents’ signature?”

She clears her throat and looks over my shoulder at the paperwork. “No. It’s a weekend pass,” she says quietly. “I just need your signature.”

I wasn’t going to challenge her. I quickly scribble my name on the bottom of the paper and step back. I shift my feet and stare at Dr. Rutledge.

“That’s it,” she says happily. “Have a fun weekend, Naomi.” Lachlan and I walk out the door. I take a deep breath of the fresh air. I scan the cars in the parking lot. There are high piles of snow in the corner of the parking lot from the snowplow. Salt is peppered along the sidewalk to prevent falling. And I’m glad, because today I’m so excited and anxious to get out of here I would’ve run ahead to Lachlan’s car and busted my ass.

I put one foot in front of the other, reminding myself that I need to look like a normal person. One that walks outside and interacts with people in the real world daily. I look over at Lachlan. His walk is confident. Shoulders straight. Chin slightly lifted, daring anyone to step in his way.

When I get into his car I breathe into my hands as we wait for the car to warm up. Lachlan places a warm hand on my thigh and smiles at me. “Are you ready?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good,” he says and pulls out of the parking spot. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

He pulls out onto the road and presses the gas.

The temptation to turn in my seat and wave at Fairfax is strong, but if I do, my gaze will wander to the ghost of myself staring longingly outside, putting another tally on the window. So I stare straight ahead as the dry, frozen over grass flies past us.

“You might as well relax; it’s a two-hour drive to my house,” Lachlan says.

“How do you expect me to relax?” I wave my hand around. “I haven’t been in a car in months. I need to take everything in! Today’s been pure torture. I sat in the rec room the whole day, staring at the clock.”

“If it makes you feel any better, there’s a pile of paperwork on my desk because I couldn’t concentrate. I ended up leaving work an hour early.” Lachlan gives me such a raw, personal smile, I almost clutch my chest in pain. “But if you want to keep looking around, then by all means… don’t let me interrupt.”

“Nah.” I shift in my seat. “Tell me about your house.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What’s it like?”

He shrugs. “It’s a house.”

“Come on,” I coax. “Give me your best description.”

“It’s small. Two bedrooms, one bathroom. There’s a small kitchen and living room. The carpet is outdated, along with the appliances, but I like it.”

“Did you decorate?”

He gives me a look that says, ‘What do you think?’

I grin and watch as dusk paints the sky.

We take the highway, bypassing McLean. I watch my hometown fly past me from my window and it looks like a blur of lights. I should probably feel some pull to the town I grew up in, but I don’t. The only pull that I have is the memories with Lana. Those memories tug at my heart, screaming at me that Lana is out there. Maybe not in McLean, but somewhere close.

We turn here and there and the two-hour drive flies by and soon we’re driving into the outskirts of Charlottesville. We stop by a fast food restaurant and order greasy food that makes my stomach rumble.

“We’re almost there,” Lachlan says.

“It’s okay,” I reassure him. “I’m having fun.”

“Just sitting in a car?”

I shrug and sneak a few French fries. “I’m getting a glimpse at your new life in this town.”

“I’m still adjusting,” Lachlan admits. “But it’s nice having no one know your name.” He looks over at me. “You’d love it.”

“If I ever get out of Fairfax,” I murmur.

“You will,” Lachlan says firmly.

We drive out of the city. Cars start to become sparse and the road becomes smaller and more compact. Lachlan has to slow down to avoid the potholes. Excitement courses through my veins when Lachlan pulls onto a gravel driveway. It started to snow when we left Charlottesville. The headlights illuminate the frozen grains, making them look like millions of snowflakes dancing in the air.

The ride up his driveway is rough. I jostle around in my seat and grab the handle above my head and hang on.

“You drive up and down this daily?”

“Yep.”

“How does your car even have shocks?”

“It’s just a little bumpy,” Lachlan argues.

I shoot him a look.

“Okay…” he says slowly. “It’s really bumpy. But I’ll get it fixed soon.”

A moment later he parks the car. I stare at the house in front of us. “So this is your house.”

It
is
small. White paint is chipping on the side. A small porch with just a broom leaning against the side of the house. There’s no grandeur. No over-the-top design. It is the exact opposite of how we grew up.

I couldn’t love it more. It reminds me of the cottage out in the woods.

Lachlan tilts his head, giving me a boyish smile that reminds me of the fifteen-year-old boy I fell in love with. “This is it. Does it meet your expectations?”

My opinion matters to him. And even as a kid it had mattered. That’s what makes Lachlan my safety net—I will always matter to him.

“Of course! I love it.”

We both get out of the car. He goes to the trunk and grabs my bag. “What made you choose this place?” I ask.

He slings my bag over his shoulder and grabs my hand. We walk to his house, side by side. “Small. Surrounded by solitude. What’s not to love?”

We stomp the snow away from our shoes as we walk across the porch. Lachlan unlocks the front door and flips the light on next to the door.

There’s a small entryway that leads directly into the kitchen. Probably one of the smallest kitchens I’ve seen, with old appliances the color of avocado.

He drops his keys on the counter and wordlessly guides me to the living room. It’s the biggest room in the house. There is just a beige rug, with a brown leather couch, chair and end table designed around it and a television in the corner. The last piece of decoration is a dozen boxes shoved against the wall.

I point at the boxes. “I love the way you’ve decorated the place.” Lachlan leans against the wall and grins. “It took me a long time.”

I walk forward, looking at each piece of furniture. “I can tell.”

“Tell me, Interior Decorator Naomi, what would you do differently?”

“Well, for one thing, I would put curtains up.” I point to the bay window. “And they would be lace curtains. I would paint the walls a pale yellow. I would keep the rug you have now. Hang some pictures up. Find some beautiful flowers and I would make sure that the bay window was filled with pillows, so I could relax and stare outdoors any time I wanted.”

“That sounds like a lot of work.”

For him, yes. But if I lived with him, I would do it myself and I would do it with the biggest smile on my face.

“You’re thinking,” Lachlan says.

I correct him, “I’m imagining.”

“Same thing.”

He walks into the kitchen. I hear cabinets open and close. “I knew you would love this place,” he calls out.

I follow Lachlan. “You did?”

He grabs two plates and fills them up with food.

“Of course,” he says absently. “The realtor showed me the house and when I saw the bay window I remember you talking about that as a kid.”

“So technically this house is half mine,” I tease.

Lachlan hands me my plate. I try to take it away. Lachlan keeps his grip. He won’t let go until I look at him. When I finally do, I see the intense look in his eyes.

“Half yours? It’s all yours.”

I just stare at him. He isn’t lying.

“Come on,” Lachlan says. “Let’s eat in the living room.”

We sit in companionable silence and eat our food.

“Are you excited to be out of there?” he asks.

“I can’t believe it,” I confess. “There’s no 20-minute outside breaks. Or a nurse knocking on your door every hour on the hour. I don’t have to hear the constant sound of voices outside my door, and I don’t have to sleep in that terrible room. Plus, the food is much, much better.”

“Yeah?” he asks with a small grin.

I nod. “Burned meatloaf and runny mac and cheese are about as good as it gets there.”

Lachlan swallows. “Does everyone eat together?”

“Mostly. Unless you’ve done something wrong. Then you eat in your room.”

Beneath his slanted brows, his eyes turn hard. I know I’ve said too much. He’s thinking about Fairfax. I’m thinking about Fairfax and I don’t want to. His house was a place that was free from all the dark things looming over me. It should stay that way.

I want to take my words back and start over. I look down at my food, suddenly not feeling hungry at all. I stand up and walk back to the kitchen, putting my plate on the counter. When I walk back into the living room, Lachlan stares straight at me with confusion. I stare at him for a second before I turn off the lights. Slowly making my way to the large window, I cross my arms and stare outside.

Lachlan’s house sits on a hill. From here, I can see the lights of the city flickering bright. I picture people inside their houses, all relaxed and calm. It puts me at peace. It makes me want to stay right here forever.

“What are you doing?” Lachlan asks.

I tap my nail against the glass. “Looking at the view.”

“With the lights off?”

“It’s the best way to see.”

If I was at Fairfax, I wouldn’t see this picture in front of me and I wouldn’t feel this way. Right now, if I want to, I can reach out and touch and experience the world I’m looking at.