Life After Taylah(51)

“Max,” Kelly says returning to the room, his voice grim. “Don’t dance around it, just tell her.”

Max closes his eyes and then opens them. “The reason he didn’t speak, Avery, is because he was scared of the impact it would have on your family and your father. You’d all lost so much. But the information he came forward with was that there was a man who used to get a room there, twice a week, during the day. He saw Taylah three times going into that room during the time the man had it booked. He said she stayed anywhere between two and five hours before leaving.”

My heart stops beating, a loud buzzing fills my ears and my scalp prickles.

“I got the contact details of that man and yesterday paid him a visit. His name is Mathew Jackson. I mentioned Taylah’s name and his face went white. He let me in and he told me everything . . .”

“Max,” Kelly says, his voice hard. “Just tell her.”

“He said Taylah and he . . . well . . . they were having an affair.”

My mind turns hazy and my vision blurs. I can’t breathe, I can’t think; my entire body is numb.

“He said they’d been seeing each other for just over a year and she was planning to leave your father. He said the day she went missing was the last day he saw her. She arrived at the hotel and got a call midway through the day, so she left. It was the last time anyone saw her.”

“You’ve got it wrong.” I gasp, my throat tight. “She wouldn’t do that.”

“Evidence is showing that his story is correct,” Max says gently.

“You’re lying!” I scream, getting to my feet and shoving my chair back.

Liam’s words ring in my head. He told me a while back that my dad had told him Momma was having an affair. It can’t be real—she wasn’t like that. She was loving, and loyal and beautiful. She was everything I’m not. She loved my dad; she loved us. She wouldn’t. They’ve got it all wrong.

I scramble backwards, tears roaring down my cheeks. Kelly and Max are both out of their chairs, but I don’t want to see either of them. I put my hands out and shake my head, managing only to get out a crackled, “Leave me alone.”

I turn and rush from the house, gripping my purse from the table by the door as I go.

My world has just been shattered.

~*~*~*~

It’s pouring with rain and I’m sitting on the beach, soaked to the bone, my hair stuck to my face. I’m freezing and my teeth are clattering together as I rub my arms, trying to bring some warmth back into my body. I don’t know where to go. If I go home I know Kelly and Max will be waiting for me; if I go to Liam I’ll just get an “I told you so.” That leaves only one option, and it’s the one option I know I shouldn’t consider.

Nate.

He’s in a town fifty miles away, staying at a hotel because he’s racing there tomorrow morning. I’ll be paying a great deal of money to get to him, but right now he’s the only person I want to see—the only person I need.

I shove to my feet and drag my aching body up the sand and onto the road. I find a bus shelter and I pull out my phone. I had it tucked under my clothes and between my legs. It’s damp, but it’s not wet. I see I’ve got a great deal of missed calls from Kelly and Max, as well as a few from Liam. I ignore them all and find a number for a cab. I dial it quickly and then I wait.

I don’t manage to warm up, but by the time the cab arrives I’m no longer dripping. I’m just damp and even colder. I swing the door open and slide into the back seat, giving the driver the name of the hotel that Nate told me he was staying at. I’m worried about going to him, because when he told me the name of the place he was staying he said, “In case of emergency, this is where I’ll be,” but it was said with a deep underlying tone that told me he literally meant only in case of an emergency, and not for a secret visit.

He’s hardly spoken to me since that night—he’s still angry, and I understand why. I insulted him and I hurt him. It wasn’t fair of me to do that. He’s risking everything for me, and I made him feel as though I didn’t believe in him. The thing is, I do believe in him. I adore Nate; I might even love him, and I was wrong for questioning him. I don’t know how it feels to be in his shoes. I have no idea how hard this must be for him.

“You look cold, miss,” the older cab driver says as we head down the highway.

“I got stuck in the rain,” I croak.

“Here,” he says, reaching across to turn the heater on.

“Oh, thank you,” I say, feeling the warmth push out and fill the back of the car.