Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
H olding Dylan as she slept was one of the best feelings in the world. Her words played over in his head as he drifted off, making him dream of danger and darkness, only to be saved by the sight of her.
When the sun started streaming in the window, she had already abandoned the bed, and he could hear the water running in his bathroom.
He was trying to figure out how to keep her there for the day, but when she came out of the bathroom, she was fully dressed.
When she noticed he was awake, she stilled. He could see that she felt uncomfortable.
“I… need to head to Portland for a few days. If I’m going to go with you on Friday, I have some… details to tie up.”
He stood up and walked over to her, then wrapped his arms around her and kissed her until he felt her body melt against his. God, he could get addicted to this feeling, the way she gave in, the way she fit against him like they’d been designed for one other.
“Go. Do what you have to. I’ll be here,” he murmured, pressing a final kiss to her temple. “Our flight leaves Friday at ten in the morning.”
She nodded, brushing her fingers along his jaw. “I’ll be back Thursday night,” she promised, then she stepped away, slowly, like it physically hurt her to leave.
He pulled on his clothes and walked her to the door. Watching her drive away left him hollow in a way he hadn’t expected. Even after just one night with her, one perfect, tangled, laugh-filled night, it felt like something permanent had settled into his bones.
He stood at the door for a few minutes after the sound of her car faded down the road, staring out at the slow sway of the trees along the cliffs.
Then he got to work.
Tending to the horses grounded him. Blaze gave him attitude for showing up late for feed time, and Misty nuzzled at his pockets with practiced pickpocket finesse.
He took both out for exercise until they were all sweaty and worn out. By the time he finished cooling them off and refilling water troughs and spreading new straw, his muscles were warm and his mind had quieted.
Next, he tackled the yard around the lighthouse, a sprawling, stubborn patch of land that Max had clearly overestimated when he bought the damn mower. The machine looked more like a spaceship than a piece of lawn equipment. It had a touch screen, GPS mapping, and a warning label in six languages.
It also made Abe curse like a sailor for the first fifteen minutes.
Once he got the hang of it, though, there was something peaceful about the work. He was now thinking of getting the same mower for his place.
He loved the smell of fresh-cut grass, the distant cry of gulls, the hum of the ocean meeting the shore below. He took his time, edging the old pathways near the lighthouse and clearing the overgrown slope by the west cliff. By late afternoon, he was sunburned, sore, and satisfied.
Thursday morning, with the chores mostly caught up, he headed into town for milk, coffee, and maybe something frozen that wasn’t cold turkey sandwiches.
In a small town where people tended to know everyone’s business, he still managed to get second glances. He should have worn a ball cap and sunglasses.
It started with a couple in the parking lot, older, visiting from out of town, judging by the matching T-shirts that read Pride: A Whale of a Good Time! The woman nudged the man, whispered, then turned towards him with wide eyes.
Abe ducked his head and moved faster, slipping into the grocery store like he was avoiding the paparazzi.
He wasn’t in the mood for selfies. Not today.
This morning he’d made a list of potential men Kara could have been seeing. Besides himself.
The emotional bomb that Dylan had dropped on him the other night about Kara sleeping with someone the night that she’d died had him rethinking their entire time together.
Now his mind kept replaying that news on a loop while his body shuffled through Pride’s local grocery store like a grumpy incognito celebrity. Since he didn’t have a hat, he pulled his hoodie up to hide some of his face.
He was halfway through the produce aisle when he heard it, the unmistakable sound of two people failing very badly at whispering.
“Oh my god. That’s him.”
“From the underwear ads?”
“And the music video where he’s playing guitar shirtless in the rain!”
He groaned. He hated that video, but it had made him who he was today. A star.
“Ugh, why does he have to look that good buying lettuce?”
Abe set the lettuce down and hunched deeper into his hoodie like it was a cloak of invisibility. It was not.
He quickly snatched a pre-made Caesar salad container, pivoted fast, and made a break for the frozen food aisle. Two teen girls tracked him down there like heat-seeking missiles, phones out, giggling.
One of them called out, “Hey, Abe! Drop the hoodie. We saw everything in those ads anyway!”
He groaned, veered left, and took a hard detour into an aisle that sold air fresheners and novelty items. A cardboard cutout of a smiling cowboy pushing barbecue sauce startled him, and for a second he thought it might ask for a selfie too.
He finally reached the checkout line, where a toddler in the cart ahead of him pointed at Abe’s hoodie and shouted, “Mommy, that’s him!” The kid then pointed to a tabloid magazine that showed his face and the words “Abe’s Secret Love Affairs” under it.
The mother’s eyes widened and then her face blushed bright red.
When the teens rounded the corner, she stiffened and frowned.
“Go ahead of me. I’ll fend them off for you,” she whispered. She blocked the teens from knocking him over.
“Taylor, Leslie, don’t you have classes today?” the mother asked in a stern tone.
The teens looked torn, but after the clerk started scanning his items, they turned and walked out of the building.
“Thanks,” he said, and handed the kid a sucker from the checkout area. “On me,” he told the clerk, and winked at the mother.
After paying for his purchases, he grabbed his change, mumbled “thank you,” and bolted to his truck like his jeans were on fire.
Once safely inside, he texted Dylan:
Miss you. Also, remind me never to go anywhere without a fake beard and dark glasses.
He tossed the phone aside and drove home, watching the quaint little town of Pride shrink in his rearview mirror. Fame had its perks. Grocery shopping wasn’t one of them.
Later, the house was quiet except for the soft hum of the record player in the living room spinning something bluesy and tragic. Abe was sunk into the couch, beer in hand, barefoot, and still emotionally tangled up from the past few days.
His mind played over that last night with Kara like it had often over the years. But this time he thought about it with all the new knowledge.
They’d gone out to that little burger place just outside of town, the one she liked. The one with the paper tablecloths and crayons at every table. She’d drawn a guitar and had written “Soon, you’ll be famous and forget me” in loopy cursive beneath it.
At the time, he’d thought she meant he would leave her behind once his music career grew and he was famous.
He’d taken it as a sign that she believed in him, that she was proud of him and willing to make sacrifices for his future.
He had promised her that he would never leave her, which had her frowning and looking down at their joined hands.
But now… now he wondered if she’d been trying to soften the blow. Letting him down gently before she disappeared for good.
Maybe what she really meant was: You’ll get over me, after I break your heart.
He remembered how tense he’d been later that night.
He’d asked her straight up, “Are you seeing someone else?” He’d heard her talking on the phone, had seen a few text messages that she’d kept from him.
With all the lies she’d told him about where she’d been and with whom, he’d known something was off.
She’d laughed, not meanly, just sort of surprised. “Of course not,” she’d assured him.
But she’d paused half a second too long. Just enough for doubt to slip in.
She’d reached across the table, touched his hand. “I want you to finish this album. You’re so close to making it big. You’ve worked so hard on recording all the songs. You have to see this through.”
He’d mistaken that for support. Now it felt like a distraction. Like she was waving one hand while the other was reaching for the doorknob.
She had driven him back to his place after dinner, because he’d had a few beers. The second one had been to work up the courage to confront her about cheating on him.
He could still feel the press of her lips on his under the dim orange parking lot lights. Her hands in his hair, the heat of her body close but not close enough.
It was funny that now, as he thought of those times, he realized they paled in comparison to the night he’d had with Dylan. They fell short of the heat Dylan made him feel by just being in the same room as him.
He’d been young and dumb. He’d wanted to fall in love. Needed it. Now he knew better. If he was going to fall in love, it wasn’t because he was desperate. It was going to be for real this time.
Kara had pulled back first. “I should go. It’s late, and I have class in the morning.”
He’d let her go and stood in the freshly rained-on parking lot as her headlights faded down the street.
She had always texted him when she got home.
Made it. Love you.
That was the ritual.
But that night… nothing.
He’d waited, phone in hand, drowsy but stubborn. Eventually, the exhaustion won. He fell asleep without ever getting her message. Or realizing it would never come.
Now he knew she’d had sex with someone else that night. The man she’d been seeing. Had their relationship been full of lies? How long had she been cheating? Had she just been using him? Why?
And who the hell had she been with?
Had she been planning to leave him all along? Had she ever loved him?
His gut twisted. The things she’d said, the things he’d thought were encouragement, maybe they were just polite lies. Maybe she’d already made her choice and was just waiting for the right moment to vanish.
Abe stood and walked to the window, staring out at the dark curve of the cliffs in the distance. The night seemed heavier than usual, as if even the stars were keeping secrets.
He didn’t want to hate her. God, he didn’t. But love, twisted by betrayal, left a scar that burned every time he tried to remember Kara without bitterness.
And now that scar was flaring hot.
Who had she gone to that night?
And why had she lied?
He was so lost in thought that at first he didn’t notice the lights heading towards the house. Then came the familiar crunch of gravel as Dylan’s car parked next to his.
He walked over and opened the door just as Dylan stepped up to it. She looked wind-tossed and road-weary, but she still managed a tired smile that sent something warm and painful straight to his chest.
“Hi,” he said, pulling her into a hug before she could even set her bag down.
“Hi. I almost hit a deer on the way down from Portland, but I managed to save Bambi’s mother just in time.” She smiled.
He kissed the side of her head. “Want a drink? Or just to collapse?”
“Collapse,” she muttered, then pulled back, more serious now. “But first… I found something.”
She crossed to the sofa, pulled out her phone, and scrolled through her notes.
“I got confirmation of what Kevin did after Kara died.” She glanced over at him. “He didn’t just disappear. He checked himself into a rehab center the week after the funeral.”
Abe blinked. “That’s why he stopped pursuing me as Kara’s killer? Why I stopped hearing from him after her death?”
“Exactly. He’d been spiraling for a while, apparently.
His parents covered for him and did a damn good job too.
Not only were they dealing with the death of their daughter, they were trying to reset their only son.
It also explains why he suddenly stopped pushing for the police to go after you.
He was in a treatment center, off the grid. ”
Abe sat down next to her slowly, his mind whirling at the new information.
“That explains part of it. But… what if he was involved that night somehow? What if Kevin was the one driving? What if he’d been drinking?
” As soon as he said it, he dismissed it.
Kara hadn’t allowed him to drive that night because of the two beers.
He doubted she’d let her brother drive her drunk.
Also, there was the little matter of who she’d have sex with.
Dylan shook her head. “That crossed my mind too. In the original police report, Kevin said he was home alone the entire night. Plus, that doesn’t explain who Kara was with… before the accident.” Her eyes locked on his and he shifted slightly.
“Yeah, I guess it doesn’t make sense. Kevin being at home was never confirmed, was it? Did they just take his word for it because they were busy pointing fingers at me?”
Dylan exhaled and looked up at him. “Never officially confirmed, no. It’s thin, his alibi. His parents could’ve covered for him too. He had motive—resentment, Kara always defending you—and he was drinking.”
Abe rubbed the back of his neck. “Hell… we’ve all been looking at this through the wrong lens. Maybe Kevin wasn’t just grieving? Maybe he was guilt driven?”
They sat there in thick silence for a moment, the old record softly crackling in the background.
Finally, Dylan looked over. “When we get back… I plan to stay in Portland for another night. I have scheduled a meeting with Kevin. Apparently, he is back in the city.”
Abe gave a slow nod. “Good. Can I listen in?”
She nodded slowly. “I’ll clear it with him first.”
“Thanks.”
He was done letting questions go unanswered. He wasn’t going to let anyone hide the truth any longer. No matter the cost.