Catalyst Read online

  Catalyst

  Copyright © 2015 Leighton Riley

  First Edition.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior express permission of the author except as provided by USA Copyright Law. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

  This book is a work of fiction and does not represent any individual, living or dead. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Book cover designed by Murphy Rae www.murphyrae.net

  Paperback and E-book formatted by Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Tinsley

  SITTING ACROSS THE street from Liam’s home—or former home, I should say—I still feel numb. The rough, cracked concrete from the curb is hot under my shorts. Everything I know has been ripped away from me. I’m stuck in my head for fear that if I let it out, I’ll crumble into a thousand tiny pieces with no one there to pick them up. I have never felt so utterly alone. I am numb, yet fragile. At any moment, I could see myself turning to dust.

  Watching movers pack away his things and throw them into the truck is so impersonal. Tossing the boxes into a truck with no thought as to what they are handling. I wish I had the strength to be the one who packed it all away, but I couldn’t. It was hard enough to pack up my things. I moved my stuff out of the home two weeks ago, but the majority of everything in that home was his.

  He was my other half. My soul mate. One morning, we were completely in love and talking about starting a family, and then by nightfall, I had found my boyfriend barely alive in the storage room of the bar I owned. I rode with him as he was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance, praying he would pull through even though the look on the paramedics’ faces told me otherwise. After what seemed like forever in the waiting room, doctors gave me the news he didn’t make it. The police questioned me extensively, and later that night, I came home to his empty house. From that day on, I have been on autopilot.

  We lived together for the past three years, but legally, I was just a guest thrown aside. Liam’s dad, Rick Rhodes, saw putting the house on the market as just checking another thing off the to-do list for when your son is murdered. It had taken just a week to get the home on the market, and in the nice neighborhood the home was in, it received multiple offers and sold in the first ten days. Rick sent an email letting me know to get my stuff off the property or it would be tossed out.

  Such an asshole.

  In the three years Liam and I were together, I had met his dad twice. Once for a high society gala and the other by coincidence at the grocery store. He didn’t bother seeing his son when he got into an ATV accident last year and broke his arm. Birthdays, promotions, family get-togethers—they weren’t important to Rick. Liam had learned early on not to let it bother him … but me? I wanted to tell him to fuck off every chance I got. His son was the light of my life and deserved to have a loving family, not just loving friends.

  Ugh.

  I shield my eyes with my hand as I see the prick walk out of the house, the house that I used to live in with his son, patting the workers on the back and handing them their money. His fake, Botox smile sends shivers down my spine. Something is off about that man. He sees me and shakes his head. My stomach drops as he starts to walk across the street. My heart beats out of my chest, and I wonder what he’s going to say to me.

  “Don’t you have better things to do, Tinsley?” He looks down at me when he’s within two feet of me. At the moment, I wouldn’t mind if a car drove by and ran him over.

  “Why does it concern you what I do with my day, Mr. Rhodes?” My hands fidget as I wait for the next blow. His eyes are a dark brown, almost black. His hairline is receding and the once dark locks are turning gray.

  “Move on. He’s not coming back, and I really don’t want to have to explain to the new owner why there’s some country bumpkin watching their home like a creeper. Will you please go home and deal with your loss in private?” He exaggerates the last word as if he can’t stand the sight of me.

  Country bumpkin? Really? My loss? It was his son too …

  Liam and I met at an entrepreneur’s convention. At the time, I already owned three high-end bars in the city. His son was one of my main distributors, providing a locally made vodka, and we were the perfect pair. Just because I wear shorts and a tank top when it’s a thousand motherfucking degrees outside doesn’t mean I’m a country bumpkin. Whatever.

  “I’ll be leaving soon. Can I go inside one last time?” I ask with hope. Everything that made it our home was now gone, but it was the last place I saw him before … We had so many memories in that house.

  “Fine. Five minutes, you hear?” He scoffs as if I’m intruding on his superior life. Fuck him.

  I look up at him in disgust but know I have to take whatever he gives right now. I need to go in. One last time. Tears cascade down my cheeks as I nod and get up from the ground. Brushing the tiny rocks and debris from my shorts, I mouth ‘thank you’ and start walking toward the house. I hear him call me pitiful when he thinks I’m out of earshot, but I don’t let it bother me. He doesn’t know the slightest thing about my relationship with Liam, or anything about me for that matter.

  Taking a few deep breaths, I grasp onto the bricks surrounding the front door. I’m empty, having cried so many tears over the past few months. I miss him so damn much. If taking his place had been an option, I would have done it in a heartbeat. I touch the doorknob and twist gently, my lips quivering. Liam was normally home before I was, and as soon as I would open the door, I’d hear him calling my name before giving me a welcome home kiss. I always laughed at how cheesy and domestic he was, but now? Now, I can hear him in my head, but I know it’s not real.

  Nothing is real anymore.

  The home in front of me is no longer a home, but a reminder of what could have been. We wanted our 2.5 kids and the dog named Spot. We lived life like there would always be another sunrise, never realizing how wrong we could be. Liam was the planner of the two of us, and now that he’s gone, I might as well be too.

  Looking into the wavy glass of the front door, I can see the house is empty. Instead of a home, our home, it’s two by fours and sheetrock. The love and happiness that once filled the space have evaporated and left the remnants of what could have been.

  I take a step into the home, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen it empty. I look to the left where we used to watch movies on Sundays and open Christmas presents on Christmas Eve. Smiling at the memories, I hate knowing that’s all I have left. I haven’t smiled in an over month.

  I try to do mundane things, like going to the grocery store, but people are always in a good mood—smiling as if nothing is wrong and all is right in the world.

  I hate those people. They don’t understand why I can’t smile back. I used to be one of the happiest girls, and now, I’m a shell of the Tinsley they once knew.

  The problem is they have no clue. And when they ask what’s wrong, I break down and cry. They try to relate and tell me their stories about losing a loved one, but it doesn’t help. They’ve
had their time to grieve and eventually get to acceptance. Don’t I have the same right?

  Cream-colored walls surround me as I walk through the house one last time. I let my fingers trail along the walls, feeling the little bits of texture under my fingertips. I’m seeing the house like never before. In the past, I didn’t really look at the rooms where we spent our time. The dirty baseboards make my nose scrunch up. The draperies in each room, though, are mesmerizing. Liam knew an interior decorator and had her use a deep aqua color with intricate beading and patterns that somehow worked with the rest of the home. It’s so quiet now, eerily so.

  Having no one to talk to, thoughts fill my head as if I’m some crazy person. Maybe I’ll turn into one of those cat ladies who never marries or has children. My future seems so uncertain, so unfair. I’m damaged goods.

  Fuck, I’m depressing even myself.

  Our bedroom is empty. I lie on the floor where our bed used to be. I take a few, heavy breaths before breaking down. Tears fall freely and I let the vise cinching around my heart loosen just a bit so that I can truly feel the pain. My hands rest on my chest over my heart, and I bawl for a few minutes, thinking about what could have been.

  “It’s not fair. He was good for me. I was good for him, dammit!” I scream to no one and everyone. “He was mine! We were supposed to live our happily ever after.” I think about whoever did this to him, the man who took away his life, and the man who was still out there, free as can be.

  Detectives tell me they’re working to solve the case, but without much evidence or any witnesses, they’re struggling. They say it was calculated, that the person knew Liam. The kill was personal. I feel worse knowing those details; I don’t want to know that someone wanted him dead.

  I lie there for who knows how long. The tears eventually dry and crust over my face and my back hurts from lying on the floor. I let the cinch tighten once again on my heart, having felt all I could handle at that moment. Anger, loss, betrayal, and love soar through my veins and it’s wearing me down, minute by minute.

  Footsteps are faintly growing louder as they approach and pull me out of my thoughts. I suspect it's Mr. Rhodes coming to kick me out, so I concentrate on envisioning us together, happy in our bed without a care in the world for the last few seconds of peace. Being in here without Liam right now feels like good-bye. We were never good at good-byes, always saying, “love you,” and “see you in a few.”

  I think that was one of the hardest parts of the funeral and burial service. The finality of it. Watching the casket lower into the ground and he was gone. The service was beautiful, and from the people who spoke, it was obvious how many people experienced Liam’s kindness.

  As the service ended and people said their good-byes, I sat still as a statue, not knowing how to move on from that moment. The sun beat down on me and my forehead glistened with sweat, but it didn’t matter. I kept staring in front of me at the hole in the ground, where my sweet Liam was laid to rest. My thoughts wandered to all the other dead people buried in the cemetery, and it gave me the chills. Liam didn’t belong there. He belonged with me.

  I was the last one to leave. The sun had started to set and the grounds manager offered to call someone so I wouldn’t be alone. I didn’t want anyone else, though. I just wanted to be with Liam forever.

  A creak in the wood floors pulls me from my thoughts.

  I feel a pull and want to stay a few minutes longer, but being in this room is also breaking my heart into teeny-tiny splinters. Whoever’s in the hallway is just a few seconds from barging in, and I take a deep breath, praying for strength.

  “Ma’am? I just wanted you to know I’m going to be doing some measurements in the other rooms. No rush or need to leave. I didn’t want to startle you.” A deep, gravelly voice speaks behind me. It is faintly familiar, but I can’t pinpoint who it belongs to. I lift up onto my elbows and look toward the door, wondering who on earth could be here. “Oh. Tinsley?” he questions.

  “Maguire? What the hell are you doing in here?” I ask with sincere confusion. We stare at each other for a few moments, uncertainty in both of our features. He takes the slightest step backward, and I know I probably offended him.

  Maguire and I went to college together at Simonton. He was the All-American boy everyone knew was going to make the big bucks when he got older. He had a knack for technology and always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone else.

  Running his hand through his short brown hair, he sighs and tells me the news. “This is my place now. It’s close to work and has a killer backyard. I’m sorry if I sound rude, but why are you here? The guy outside said I could make myself at home and ignore any of the movers. He—he never said anything about you, though. Is he your family?”

  Family. Such a simple world, yet so complex. Rick Rhodes was the closest thing to a “father figure” I’ve had over the past twenty years, but he was far from that. Liam was my family. My only family.

  Maguire didn’t know me well enough back in college to know about the accident. He didn’t know that my father had fallen asleep at the wheel while driving my family to my brother’s soccer game. He didn’t know I was the only one who came out of it with just a broken arm and a concussion while everyone else died on impact. I was seven years old at the time. Liam knew. I had confided in him when he asked why I lived with my grandma. He also knew it was a subject not to bring up, except for when he broke his arm in the ATV accident and he said we were obviously meant to be together.

  I sit up, feeling awkward for lying on what is now this man’s master bedroom floor. He probably thinks I’m a squatter. I cross my legs and process what he just told me. He lives here now? I should have known about this.

  Looking around the room, I feel the walls closing in. My private moment with Liam is now gone, and I have the itch to run home to my dinky apartment. I’m not ready to speak to people and have normal conversations. Maguire waits patiently for me to answer. He really is easy on the eyes. I wonder if he knows the whole story.

  “Not quite. I used to live here. I was just taking a minute to soak up the memories one last time before heading out. You’re free to go about your measuring. I can leave if you’d like or—?” Maguire holds up his hand.

  “I barged in on you. I’ll come back tomorrow for the measuring. And Tinsley? If you lived here, I’m terribly sorry for what happened. You deserve all the happiness in the world.” He leaves without question, and my jaw is stuck open in shock over the past few minutes.

  What the hell?

  He knew. At least, he knew enough to put some of the pieces together.

  I stare at the door for a while after he’s gone, listening to his quiet steps as he goes through two other rooms before shutting the front door. I lie back down on the carpet and close my eyes. Thoughts spiral through my head, only now they include Maguire moving into our place. It’s like an invasion of space. He didn’t know it, but he stole it out of my hands.

  Resentment boils in my veins even though it isn’t his fault for being the new owner. Him being involved is just a coincidence within a mound of tragedy. Smiling at my surroundings, it is a nice place. Somewhere perfect for starting your life as an adult. It was why Liam had bought the home in the first place.

  “Close your eyes. No peeking!” Liam chuckles as he guides me up two stairs and over the threshold. His toned chest hits my back as he continues to cover my eyes with both hands.

  “I’m going to bust my ass, Liam!” I can’t contain my laughter as we awkwardly move into the house. “Can I see it now?” I whine as soon as we come to a stop.

  “Not yet. Stay right there and keep your eyes closed. I’ll be right back.” I grin as I hear him run down what could be a hallway, stop for a few seconds, and then run back to me. His breath is heavier, but whether from exhaustion or anticipation, I’m not sure.

  I have no idea what he’s up to, but his demeanor makes me giddy. Liam had mentioned moving out of his apartment into something bigger, but I didn’t rea
lize he had already secured something.

  His arm wraps around my shoulder and a flash of light goes off. “For real?”

  “Open your eyes, Tins,” he says in a sultry voice near my ear. I ever so slowly open them and my mouth drops at what’s in front of me. “Does this mean when I go back to my apartment, it’ll look like I’ve been robbed?” I question.

  He’s successfully moved all of our stuff from both apartments into a gorgeous two-story home with a massive family room that opens up to the kitchen. His couch and huge flat-screen TV are already in their perfect spots and my pots are hanging above the island in the kitchen. I’m awestruck.

  Pulling up the photo on his phone, he shows me the selfie he took. I have my eyes closed and am making a scrunchy face and he’s cheesing to the camera with love and adoration in his eyes.

  “How’d you—”

  “I had help.”

  “But when?”

  “For the past two months. Any free time I had, it was here, getting it all ready. For the furnishings, if you pay a moving company enough money, they can be in and out in four hours. This is our home, our future. I love you, baby.” The kiss I get is one of those that leads to everything else. His hands are everywhere, and minutes later, I’m thrown onto his, scratch that, our bed.

  “I’m the luckiest girl alive.”

  That picture has been my screensaver on my phone for years now. I know every freckle by memory because I’ve stared at it so long. It’s ingrained in my brain so well I couldn’t forget it even if I wanted to.

  I miss being happy. I miss him.

  After probably way too long, I finally get up off the floor and walk through the house one last time before leaving. Mr. Rhodes is long gone, and a note on the front door says to leave through the garage and that the new owners move in in two days.

  I lock the place up and stare at the garage door a minute before working up the nerve to leave. When he said leave through the garage, I forgot I didn’t have a garage door opener with me anymore. I have to run and jump over the sensor after I push the button to get out of the garage before it closes on me. As a kid, I was a pro at this feat. Now, I feel like an out of shape burglar who just about got caught.