Epilogue
Dylan
The next few months pass in a blur of interviews, meetings with attorneys, insurance paperwork, court dates, home showings, business plans, and poker nights.
Cassie has moved to Miami and Jake and I are already planning our first trip to see her once we finish getting settled into our new house.
We talked a lot about leaving the area entirely and starting over. We even discussed moving to Miami with Cassie, but ultimately decided home is home in spite of the good and the bad. We have the means to travel whenever and wherever we want, but as far as home , it’s still this state.
Steve Ellington is contesting that he was an accessory to attempted murder, claiming he only knew about the arson. I’m sure he’s hoping his lawyers will get him off. We wouldn’t know though because we haven’t spoken to him since the day they arrested Cora.
Martin won the election by a landslide. Proving his hands were clean despite the turmoil surrounding him really won him over with the people. He made no excuses for his daughter’s behavior and just promised to continue to put the people in his community first.
Apparently, Glynda’s shooting actually was a random act of violence in the middle of the other orchestrated events, but Officer Dowdy was nailed for Carl Rogers’ hit and run. I feel fortunate that we have answers for the turmoil in our lives when so many experience tragedy and are left wondering why.
Tonight, Jake and I are at Hudson’s. He doesn’t live terribly far from Phoenix, but their properties couldn’t be more different. Where Phoenix lives on a small farm with a horse paddock and a riding ring with tractors and big trucks, and fields, Hudson lives in a small, but beautiful log cabin along the river that feeds into the lake we take Knox’s boat out on. It reminds me of a miniature version of Jake’s brother, Tim’s, house.
Hudson opens the containers of wings, wearing a grin. “Eat up, fuckers. Cold wings are nasty.”
We all dig in and crowd onto the couch and love seat to watch the hockey game. A light rain is pelting the windows and considering a whole wall is floor to ceiling windows with a view of the river through the trees, it’s hard to decide if I want to watch the game or the water.
“Earth to Phoenix,” Knox says, waving a hand over Phoenix’s phone screen until he snaps his head up.
“Oh, yeah, sorry, what did you say?”
“Grab your plate. They already dropped the puck,” Hudson says.
“Who’re you texting?” I ask innocently.
“Oh, uh, no one.” He tries to slip his phone in his pocket, but he fumbles it and it lands on the floor face up.
A snapchat of my sister’s face stares back at me.
Cassie is a grown ass woman. She can do what she wants. I find it strange that she wanted to get away from here so badly, yet she’s spending her Tuesday night texting someone from here, but she can do as she pleases.
I reach down to grab the phone and hand it back to Phoenix whose eyes are wide. “We’re just talking as friends, man, I swear.”
A small part of me likes that he thinks I’m pissed. Maybe it’ll keep him on his toes.
I just smile, carry my plate to the couch, and sit next to Jake, reveling in his proximity and the normalcy we’ve achieved over the past few months.
“Oh man, did I tell you guys about the new route they put me on at work?” Hudson asks while ripping apart a chicken wing with his teeth.
“The one with the gated neighborhood?” Knox asks.
“Yeah. Like half the route is super bougie and half the route are lonely old women. I swear I’ve seen more tits in the last two weeks than I’ve seen in the last six years,” Hudson laments.
“That’s what you get for switching from a commercial route to a residential one,” Jake laughs.
“Nah man, it’s still way better than what I was driving, but I swear it’s like these widows know when I’m coming and think oh my orthopedic shoes are being delivered today. I better go ahead and strip so I don’t miss my opportunity to scar that nice young man.” Hudson’s old lady impersonation gets a snort out of me.
“Well, maybe one of the hot, rich ladies on the other half of the route will decide she should take her clothes off too,” Phoenix says, finally joining us in the living room.
“I’ll pass,” Hudson says. “I think Jakey and Dylan have filled this group’s quota for drama for a lifetime.”
“Here here!” The whole group yells as we hoist our beers in the air.
If only there was such a thing, I think to myself, wondering who will be next.
CONTINUE READING FOR A SNEAK PEEK OF HUDSON’S STORY:
PLAYING WITH FIRE