Fool Me Twice by Lizzie Morton

 

 

Thirty

 

Britney 3 months later

 

Gentle stroking on my back stirs me from the most peaceful night’s sleep I’ve had in months. Each night since moving in with Becket, the nightmares have lessened. I wish I could say the same for him, but his demons run much deeper than mine. We’re a work in progress and we’re fighting back, together.

“Mmm. I like waking up like this,” I murmur, when he starts to trail kisses along the back of my neck.

“That’s good, because I like waking you up like this.”

His kisses move down my back, eagerly, but he stops when he reaches my shoulder blade. I feel his breathing quicken. I know if I turn and look back, he will be frowning at one particularly nasty scar, one of the many that serve as harsh reminders of what happened. They remind us that until justice is served, he won’t be able to move on, not fully.

“Don’t go down that path,” I say.

“I don’t know what path you’re talking about …”

“Yes. You do. You promised you wouldn’t keep doing this to yourself.”

The past few months haven’t been easy. But never for one minute did I think navigating the aftermath of a traumatic experience as a couple would be.

Playfully he responds, “And why should I keep that promise?”

I roll over and look up at him. “Because you promised that my first day as your fiancée would be a fresh start.”

“Oh yeah … that.” He smirks.

I might love him, but he’s still an asshole when he wants to be. “Yes … that. Now, you made a promise and I plan on making sure you keep it.”

He begins to lose interest and places a wet kiss on my collarbone, sucking as he strokes my skin with his tongue.

“Want to know a secret?” I ask playfully.

“I don’t think I do. I’ve had enough of secrets.”

“I’m going to tell you anyway.” I shove him away as he tries to lean in and start kissing my neck again.

“I thought you might.”

“I always thought getting older and settling down would be boring. I think you should prove to me I was wrong and show me how fun being engaged can really be.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him and without missing a beat, he takes one of my nipples in his mouth, teasing it slowly until my breathing becomes ragged.

When he pulls away, he looks up at me through his lashes, his green eyes have a mischievous glint to them. “I’m not sure I’m the best person for the job. People always referred to me as boring. What do you think?”

His fingertips trail along my skin, down my stomach and slowly south, settling between my legs. When he begins to circle my clit with his fingers, I moan.

“I think you’re rather fun,” I reply breathlessly, “but I like the world thinking you’re boring.”

He pulls his hand away. “And why’s that?”

“Because it means you’re all mine.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” He moves his body over mine, then slides two fingers inside me, dipping them in and out, hitting the perfect spot. “I’m all yours anyway. I was the moment I first laid eyes on you. I just didn’t realize it at the time.”

He pulls his fingers out and his mouth finds mine at the same time he slips inside me. His thrusts quickly tip me over the edge, and I fall apart in the best kind of way.

He spends the rest of the morning showing me why my life is worth fighting for. He shows me that in those moments when I gave up the fight and thought I had no reason to live, I was wrong. I have him.

 

***

 

We’re in the kitchen preparing for dinner in the same way we do every night, when there’s a knock at the door. Becket and I both freeze, like we do each time we hear or see anything out of the norm.

I stand with the knife I’m holding hovering in the air, midway through slicing salad. My grip tightens on the handle.

“I’ll be right back, don’t worry,” says Becket, placing a quick kiss on the top of my head.

I nod, but the way his skin has paled shows me he isn’t as confident as he’s making out. I also don’t miss the fact that he doesn’t put his knife down—he walks with it in his hand to the front door. We have security teams in place, but things still don’t feel any easier.

I hold my breath when I hear the click of the lock, knowing Becket is going to be pushing the handle down and opening the door. Right. About. Now.

“Evan, hi?” I hear him say, his voice floating into the kitchen.

I let go of my knife and it clatters on the marble counter. I drag a shaky hand through my hair. Get it together Brit. He’s not here. No one’s seen or heard anything for months. He could be dead for all we know. God, I hope he’s dead.

“Can I come in?” I hear Evan say. “I have a few things I need to go over.”

“Sure.”

The door closes and footsteps move through the entryway, getting closer to the kitchen. I’m greeted with the sight of two giants. Evan and Becket together could almost be intimidating if I didn’t know them as I do.

“Hi, Evan,” I say warmly. “It’s great to see you, it’s been a while.”

“Thankfully,” he replies. I know he doesn’t mean anything by it.

“We’re actually about to sit and eat,” says Becket. “Feel free to join us.”

Evan looks at me to check it’s ok.

I nod. “We always make too much.”

“Never enough more like,” grunts Becket, the human trash can.

Between the three of us, we set the table. I smile to myself as we do. I never could have predicted I’d be standing in what is now my ginormous kitchen, with one of the most famous NFL players in the world and an FBI agent. It might be an obscure scenario, but despite what it’s taken for us to get here, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

We’re settled at the table and I go to pass Evan the bowl of salad when my engagement ring sparkles in the light.

His eyes widen and he says, “Congratulations.”

Becket and I look at each other and grin.

“Nobody knows yet,” says Becket. “It only happened last night.”

“It’s great to see you getting your happy ending. You deserve it. I won’t say a word.” When we’re done eating, Evan pushes his plate away. “That was amazing.”

“So, what did you want to clear up with me?” asks Becket.

Evan clears his throat and grimaces. “It was actually Britney I came here to talk to.”

I still and Becket frowns.

“Ok?” I say uncertainly.

“It’s nothing bad,” he says, smiling. “My admin picked up on something in your statement and I have to clear it up. Part of the process. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, just let me know how I can help.”

“It’s simple.” Evan’s phone starts ringing on the table. He looks down at it and mutters, “Sorry.” He silences it. “In your statement there was something flagged up. I’m really sorry, Britney, I’m going to have to talk about part of it with you again. Is that, ok?”

I take a deep breath, my confidence wavering ever so slightly. “I’ll answer whatever questions you have.”

“So, I just need you to confirm something from the beginning, where you recollect first coming around. You used the word they. I just need you to confirm that I can change it.”

Flashes of those first moments as I regained consciousness, and the voices I heard, flood my mind. I frown. “There’s nothing to change.”

Evan’s brows draw together and he purses his lips. “What do you mean there’s nothing to change?”

“The word they is right.”

He shakes his head. “But you said there was only one person there.”

I nod. “The rest of the time, yes. But there wasn’t at that point. I heard two voices.”

Evan shakes his head again, the line between his brow getting deeper. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Becket frowns too and we both sit and watch Evan rub a hand across his tightly clenched jaw.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he says. His phone phone lights up on the table with a message and my eyes move down briefly, reading ‘F’ as the ID. “Excuse me a moment.” He smiles tightly and picks up the phone. As he reads whatever is on the screen he visibly pales. Shaking his head he sets it on the table facedown but it instantly begins ringing. He picks it up and rejects it, only for it to start ringing again. He looks between me and Becket and says, “I’m sorry I’m going to have to take this.”

Becket nods and we watch as Evan answers while walking away. He stands in the kitchen, listening intently, then begins pacing back and forth. At the same time the doorbell rings. Becket is too focused on Evan and trying to figure out what’s going on to acknowledge it.

“I’ll get that,” I say. I walk to the front door and open it hesitantly. There’s no one there.

I’m about to close it, when something white on the floor catches my attention. A single white lily, resting on top of a small white envelope. Shaking, I bend over to pick it up.

At the same time Evan’s voice fills the whole house as he roars, “What do you mean she’s gone? Find her!”

“Becket!” I shriek.

He comes charging through the entryway, his eyes bulging. “Brit?”

I look down at the envelope and white lily sitting in my hands.

He walks over and takes the envelope, muttering under his breath, “What the hell is going on?”

I watch as he opens it, frowning when he pulls out a small piece of paper. He reads it, blinks, and then the paper floats to the floor.

“What’s wrong?” I ask quietly, not sure I really want to know.

He doesn’t get a chance to answer, because Evan races through and looks at Becket. He grabs fists full of his hair, pulling at them. “It’s Josie … she’s gone.”

My eyes flicker down to the piece of paper on the floor, covered in blood stains. I can just about make out the words:

 

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, shame on me.

Fool me thrice, shame on us both.