Seventeen
Elijah
I keep looking for Silas at the restaurant and the bookshop. It’s been days since we’ve seen each other. He hasn’t been at the lake either. I don’t have anything left to return to him, so I don’t know how weird it would be to show up at his house again and ask if he needs help moving more furniture. I drive by the flower shop, debating on whether to stop in and check how my order is coming along. After circling around the store, I decide to keep going and grab dinner from a nearby fast food place so I can eat it at the lake.
Getting out of my car, I grab the paper bag and look up at the stars, smiling before shutting the door. I walk up to my favorite spot on the dock, lowering myself onto the wooden planks, and set my food between my spread-out legs. A few boats are in the water and some people are talking near the parking lot. Lights create shadows and leave the water glowing in random areas. It’s as beautiful out here at night as it is in the daytime, and more stars sprinkle the sky, reminding me of Silas as much as the sunshine does. I picture him joining me and talking my ear off while I try to enjoy my peace. Maybe a little noise wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Grabbing my burger, I take slow bites in between shoving fries into my mouth. Landon hated when I ate two different things at one time.
“It brings all the flavors together better ,” I used to tell him.
The cook in him never accepted that answer. In his mind some foods needed to be enjoyed separately or with one bite at a time, not shoved in all at once like some uncivilized human being. It’s what he called me when I didn’t chew before swallowing, talked when I ate, and tried to kiss him with food still in my mouth. I chuckle at all the memories and then my heart sinks when I remember I’m burying him in only two days. I’ll have to say goodbye all over again, but at least it will be the last time. That’s one comfort.
I think he’d like Silas. I think he’d like that I wasn’t spending every day wasting away too. He used to ask me if I’d wither away if he died first, and I found it strange how the questions came out of nowhere. After learning about him being sick, it made a little more sense why he wanted to ensure I’d be okay without him. He and Silas were both so sporadic and unpredictable but in different ways. Yeah, he’d really like Silas and how he can easily get me to smile. What he’d hate is me pining after a married man. Is he judging me for it now?
“You’re better than this,” I bet he’d say.
Am I, though? Maybe I was once, but after what happened I’m not sure who I am anymore. All I know is that when I’m with Silas I want to keep living, go on unplanned walks, try a new pastry, and paint bedrooms yellow.
But those aren’t good enough reasons to keep seeing him. Not when I’m shattering a marriage at the same time.
“I’m not sure there’s much of a marriage left to ruin.”
The sadness in his eyes was heartbreaking, and he looked like a man who’d recently lost a lot too. I resonated with his pain so much, all it did was bring me closer, making it harder for me to walk away. We were like two broken wings syncing together to learn to fly again.
A crashing sound has me craning my neck. Two people are arguing in front of two docked boats. One is tall, dressed in all black with a hood over his head, and shoving a finger into the chest of someone else. I can’t make out the shorter man’s face until the taller one rushes away, leaving him alone in an erratic state on the dock. He grabs at his hair and stomps his feet, and when he looks at me the blood in my veins goes cold.
It’s not until I’m getting to my feet that his eyes widen and he steps back.
“You,” I shout.
“Look, you got the wrong man.”
My legs are already moving that way, getting ahead of my brain. “I don’t think I do. Your name isn’t really Hank, is it?”
Lifting his hands in the air, he walks backwards, nearly tripping on his own feet. “It’s not what you think.”
“No? Are you saying you didn’t plant a bomb on our boat?”
“If I were you, I’d leave it alone. Be thankful you’re alive and walk away while you can. Not all of us are so lucky.”
“Lucky,” I scream so loud my ears ring. “Lucky. Exactly what makes you think losing my husband to trafficking is lucky?”
His jaw tightens and he shakes his head. “You should be careful what you say, especially in a public place like this. You don’t want the wrong person to hear you.”
“Maybe I want them to,” I shout louder, getting so close I slam him against the front of a white boat.
Wincing, he raises his hands in front of his face. “Please. They’ll kill us both.”
“Who’s they ?”
Lowering his hands, he kicks me hard in the leg and slams a fist into my jaw. I spin so much I have to grab onto a metal railing on a boat to keep from falling into the water. By the time I catch my balance, he’s already slipping into a car and driving off. Rubbing my jaw, I run toward the moving vehicle and lift my phone to take a picture of the license plate. Not wanting to waste time, I get in my car and call the detective to give him the info.
“You shouldn’t have approached him. These men are dangerous, Mr. Pena. What if he’d had a gun or other men with him?”
“I didn’t want him to get away.”
He sighs loudly on the other end of the phone. “And he did anyway. You don’t need these people to view you as a problem. If you keep trying to play cop on your own, you’ll end up in the ground right next to your husband. Do you want that?”
“No, but no one else seems to be trying to track these guys down.”
He lets out another breath. “I’ll run the plates and do my best to bring this guy in, but even if we are able to charge him with anything, chances are he’ll get out on bail soon. Holding these guys for long isn’t easy.”
“What do you mean? This man planted a bomb on our boat. He helped other men kidnap and kill my husband.”
“That might be so, but we don’t have evidence to prove everything you’re stating. We have prints but they might not match his, and who’s to say he hasn’t already ditched the car. In order for us to properly help you, you need to promise to stay out of the way from here on. Can you promise me that, Mr. Pena?”
Grinding my teeth, I grip the phone tighter. “Fine.”
“Good. I’ll follow up as soon as I can. I already have someone tracking the car as we speak. It might not be until tomorrow that you hear from me again.”
“Thanks.”
We end the call and I drive home, hating how finding the man responsible for our boat exploding and me almost dying got me nothing but a bruise on the jaw. He got away. I let the asshole get away and who’s to say they’ll ever find him again.
“We found the car Hank was driving abandoned in a Walmart parking lot.”
Not the words I wanted to hear right now. The day is already bad enough as it is. I wanted better news than this, in hopes it would balance out the anger and frustration I’m feeling standing in the parking lot of the cemetery. “So that’s it? He’s just gone? I thought y’all were tracking him?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Pena. These things happen sometimes, and all we can do is wait to see if something else comes up. We are still searching the area, hoping he didn’t get far. Is the sketch you gave us the first time still accurate?”
“Yes. Aside from him having a bruise under his eye and a broken nose.”
He pauses before speaking again. “I made a note of the new descriptions. We won’t stop looking for him and whoever else was involved. If he showed up at the docks the other night, he might do it again. If you do see him, please call us before doing anything reckless.”
“Yeah, yeah I will.”
After getting off the phone, I take a deep breath and walk toward the crowd of people waiting for me. I slept like shit, hoping my phone would go off sooner than it did. I hate how right I was about truly gaining nothing from the other night. Maybe I really do need to sit back and let the cops handle it. What if all I’m doing is making it worse? They said they won’t stop looking, and while I’ll try not to take matters into my own hands again, I won’t ever stop looking either. I won’t be able to see them all behind bars, but I at least want the man who has my husband’s heart to suffer.
“There you are.” Landon’s mom pulls me into her arms, something she’d never done the whole time Landon and I had been together. “I know today is hard, but at least we can finally lay him to rest.”
Where has she been this whole time? Not helping look for him. Not calling to check on the case once. It wasn’t until after they found his body that she suddenly wanted to appear and be active in everything. Even in death, all that matters to these people is Landon’s money. His siblings are standing side by side looking at me with disdain in their eyes, one wearing a bright-ass pink dress. The disrespect of these people. They can’t behave for one damn day.
I slowly break away from her, my lips remaining in a pressed line. She doesn’t deserve my smiles, whether they’re real or fake. “Yeah. Thanks for coming.”
“Of course.” She forces a smile. “I wouldn’t miss my own son’s funeral.”
No. Only him graduating college, his wedding, and the opening of his first restaurant. It’s nice how it takes him dying for her to actually show up to something important. I wish she hadn’t come at all. If money is what she’s after, she can forget it. Landon left her nothing and that’s exactly what she deserves.
I give a curt nod and excuse myself, making a beeline toward the casket. The deep ache in my heart splinters across my chest and I remove a paper duck from inside my jacket to place it on top. “I’m sorry this has to be our last moment together. I’m sorry your life had to end the way it did. I’m sorry I won’t be able to hold you or kiss you awake again, because if I could, I would at this very moment.”
A shuddered breath escapes me and I slam my hand on the casket. “I hate that I have to continue this life without you. Sleep easy, mi amor. I know we’ll see each other again one day, and when we do, the water and sky will be perfect just for us.” A tear slides down my cheek and knots form in my throat as I choke on a sob.
Landon was sick but he still had a chance at living, and that person stole every single one. It was never theirs to take. If this person hadn’t needed a new organ, I wouldn’t be here now, looking down at a closed casket carrying my husband’s mutilated, burnt body inside.
A hand squeezes around my shoulder, and when I look back I’m met with a soft pair of blue eyes. A muscle twitches in Jessa’s throat as she forces her lips into a smile. She doesn’t say anything and stands there silently, being someone for me to lean on when I’m unable to stand on my own. We don’t take our seats until the service begins, and I can’t stop looking at the empty chair beside me, waiting for Landon to sit down and tell me this has been a joke this whole time.
It never happens. I watch the casket lower into the ground, and everyone says their final goodbyes while I stand here unable to do it again. Unable to toss dirt or roses forward. Unable to breathe. Unable to picture Landon’s smiling face as easily as I could before. He’s gone. He’s really gone. I knew this already but now I can actually see him disappearing beneath the dirt forever.