Fake Game (The System #3)

Chapter Forty-Seven

FORTY-SEVEN

DEER

I stare out the bay window at the dark green hills in the distance, my forehead resting on the cool glass and my knees curled against my chest. It’s windy today—the trees in the distant forest are swaying more than usual. I raise my hand to the glass, tracing my nails down as if to reach into the open fields.

It’s so empty out there.

Peaceful.

“Deir, it’s me,” my mam announces. “You decent?”

“Yeah.”

The door clicks open, and I hear her soft footfalls on the carpet.

“I brought you some tea.”

“I’m not hungry.”

She lets out a sigh, the sound of whatever she brought in clacking onto my coffee table. Well, calling it mine is a stretch. I hadn’t been back to Carlingford in three years, not since my channel started to really take off.

At first, I’d been too busy—putting out a new video every day, researching new games and perfecting my persona—and then, I’d been too scared. That fear kept compounding more and more until the idea of the outside world became a living nightmare I refused to step into.

The more time that passes here, the more I realize my new therapist is right.

“You need to eat.” Mam takes a seat next to me. “Here—a slice of coffee cake, fresh from the oven.”

My eyes flit to the baked goods, and my heart plummets.

Jackson used to be the one bringing me desserts. He was the one who would take the time out of his day to bake me something new just so I’d have something to eat. Even when I’d stopped opening the door, he’d still tried. And I just left him—like a coward.

“Oh!” Mam hurries to put down the plate and reaches out to wipe a stray tear. “Oh, now why’d that make you cry?”

I can’t tell her it’s because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with a six-foot-something grumpy gamer whom I just left high and dry back in America without any warning, and that he probably hates me now as a result, which is causing my heart to bleed like someone removed a brick from a dam and the water is gushing out. That it should be so easy for me to pick up my phone and just send him a message, that I could type out two simple words—I’m sorry—but that every time I get close to grabbing my phone, a wave of nausea overtakes me, and so I just keep avoiding it because avoiding is what I do best. Because there’s a man out there who is trying to hurt me, and I don’t want to put Jackson or anyone else in danger.

“Maybe we go and get you some fresh air?”

I stiffen in her hold. I’ve barely left my bed let alone my room since arriving.

“Not into town or anything,” she’s quick to add, “but just outside.” Her voice is hesitant, testing the waters.

But the storm inside me hasn’t calmed; the waves are still crashing.

“No thanks.”

Her hand strokes down the back of my head in a soft, soothing motion. “Dr. Ainsley said you need to try. Even if it’s just sitting on the back porch swing for a few minutes.”

I know that.

“I’m still not ready.”

She sighs, pulling back. “Look out there, Deirdre, and tell me what you see.” She nods out the window.

“Trees. Some wildflowers. The field.” A swallow dives across the sky. “A bird.”

“Any houses?”

“No.” We own the entire twelve-acre property. There isn’t anyone for miles, and it takes twenty minutes just to drive into town.

“Then what out there—” she taps on the glass “—is scaring you?”

“Life.”

I know it isn’t rational, I know there isn’t anything out there, but there’s this little voice in my head that says what if? What if he’s somehow found out where I am? What if he is watching me from a satellite, waiting until I leave this house? What if there’s a drone hidden somewhere to stalk me?

“Please. I promise it’s safe.”

Promise .

The word makes me think of Jackson again.

How he also promised he wouldn’t let me get hurt. How he promised to help me. How I abandoned those promises.

If Jackson were here, would he take my hand and lead me out into the sunshine?

I blink out the window, my mind hallucinating a couple in the field, holding hands.

Mam must see something pass over my face because she stands up and lightly tugs me out of my huddle, and my body seems to comply for once. My legs unfurl until my feet touch the carpet, and I hold onto my mother’s hand as she slowly leads me out of my bedroom.

The house is quiet save for the light piano music that seems to always be playing. Still, I keep glancing around in case someone comes slinking out from the shadows, my hand gripping the balustrade as we wind down the staircase.

My steps begin to slow as we approach the double set of back doors. The buzzing of a hive hums against my ears, and my heart begins to shake in response.

Mam squeezes my hand, looking back at me with a smile as her warm brown eyes crinkle with hope.

“Breathe.”

My head moves in short nods as I try to do just that.

In. Hold. In. Out.

In. Hold. In. Out.

“Good.”

She turns the doorknob, and that hive of bees makes its way into my lungs, filling them with their hurried agitation.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t do this.

I start to pull out of her grip, but then the door tugs open and the crisp air whisps around me, sending my pink hair in a flutter. On instinct, I inhale. Cool, clean air fills my lungs, and suddenly that sparkle that’s still buried deep within me begins to flash brighter.

“Just one step.” She runs her thumb over my knuckles.

I take another breath. A little bit of salt from the bay carries on the wind, and I use it to ground myself.

One step.

I move forward to the threshold, my toes curling around the edge.

One step.

But even though I keep telling myself that, my legs don’t seem to move.

I gaze out into the lush fields, tracing the dips of the hills in the distance before searching higher into the sky dotted with clouds. Searching for something to get me to take that one step.

Distantly, the piano music filters back into my consciousness, and it chimes like a bell in my mind. My brows pull together as I focus on the sound, trying to figure out what about it is niggling at me.

A chord of notes plays out, and that sparkle briefly shimmers again.

It’s the same song I heard Angela play at her recital.

Memories of that day come trickling in.

How I held his hand for the first time. His smile teasing me as I wove the delicate tale of our secret romance. The way his fingers traced reassuring patterns on my thigh as we banded together—partners.

“Oh, Deir.” Mam hugs me. “I’m so proud.”

I shift in her hold, feeling something soft under my feet.

Grass.

My toes scrunch against the blades, curling them against my skin as I blink the world back into focus. She lets go and smiles—she smiles because I am smiling.

And then, I take another step.