Chapter 40
forty
. . .
REAGAN
Honey, I’m the only man.
Well, he was right about that. Now that I’d found my way back to him—now that we’d found our way back to each other—I knew without a doubt there would never be anyone else for me. He was it. The elusive one I’d searched for my whole life.
Goddesses, I couldn’t wait for Lainey to meet him.
The thought pulled me up short, timed perfectly to the end of the song.
Finn didn’t seem to notice my mind was a million miles away as he led me off the dance floor.
But when he bellied up to the bar to order us fresh drinks, and he turned to see what I wanted, his brow creased in concern before he ever got the question out.
“Are you okay?” he asked instead.
I wanted to lie, to not ruin the perfect moment we’d shared with my mental struggles. But I’d never get away with it; he knew me too well.
“Yes and no,” I answered honestly. “Today has been wonderful, but…”
“Lainey.”
“Yeah.”
He wrapped his palms, warm and steady, around my upper arms. “We will find her. Alive. I won’t rest until it’s done.”
My eyes flooded with tears, a few slipping down my cheeks, and I nodded.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, baby.”
Finn pressed a kiss to my forehead, and when he pulled back, I said, “I need a minute. I’m going to go up to the house for a bit, if that’s okay?”
I knew he wasn’t keen on letting me out of his sight, especially not after dark. But there were enough people around that he ultimately relented—then stood in the open barn door, his tall, broad frame silhouetted by the lights from inside, watching until I made it inside.
I was suddenly so fucking tired: emotionally and physically. My arm ached, my feet were killing me in the damn heels I’d decided to wear, and a headache was beginning to form behind my right eye.
A few weeks ago, Finn had shown me his childhood bedroom, and I headed there now, knowing being surrounded by something that was his, even if I needed a moment alone, would help improve my mood.
Slipping my shoes off, I perched on the edge of Finn’s bed and rubbed at my feet, groaning at the delicious release of pressure against my toes.
The room was a time capsule, seemingly unchanged from a time sixteen years ago when the twins called it home.
I could imagine Birdie keeping everything as it had been when the boys enlisted.
A shrine to the sons who may never come home.
The walls were decorated with sports posters, including one of their own big brother in an advertisement for Nike.
A small shelf in the corner displayed awards earned by the twins over the course of their own athletic careers.
I’d been surprised to learn they’d played baseball, not football like Owen, Trey, and Lane.
Framed family photos decorated the other flat surfaces, the two simple dressers and closet still filled with Finn and West’s teenage clothing.
I couldn’t get over how different our upbringings had been—but the similarities of growing up with a twin were impossible to miss.
My bedroom back home was the one I’d grown up in, but it had changed over the years, shedding its skin like a chameleon, morphing as I did from girlhood to teenager to collegiate life to the woman I was now.
Lainey and I had never shared a room. Our family farmhouse had more rooms than people to fill them, and after conceiving twins on the first try, Mom and Dad didn’t have any more children.
Even though we hadn’t needed to share, we’d fall asleep together more often than not.
As little girls, Mom and Dad would put us in separate beds, only to find us together in the morning, one of us drawn from our room to our twin’s.
We’d slip under the covers with a flashlight to play with dolls or tell silly stories.
As teens, gossip and overly dissecting the day’s happenings carried us until sleep pulled us under.
Then it was Mom and Dad’s deaths and my inability to sleep alone. Nightmares would dig their claws in and hold me hostage, forcing me to relive the final moments of their lives, over and over, until Lainey’s screams finally dragged me awake.
It had always been us against the world.
Without her, I was unmoored. Adrift. Like a ship lost at sea, unable to return to shore until she returned home.
“Reagan?” someone called from downstairs.
With a sigh, I headed down, my brief reprieve over—and found Aspen waiting at the base of the stairs.
“Shouldn’t you be celebrating?” I asked.
“Needed a breather,” she admitted. “Likely for the same reason you did.”
I nodded in understanding. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” she said, smiling sadly. “Unfortunately, I can’t bring Lola back. She is gone forever. But Lainey won’t suffer the same fate. We will bring her back.”
“But what if we don’t?”
For the last several months, I’d refused to entertain the thought.
Hadn’t wanted to consider the possibility that watching her climb into that car in front of our house back in April was the final time I’d ever see her.
I knew deep in my heart she was still breathing, but the longer she remained missing, the harder I found it to remain hopeful.
Even now that Trey had managed to locate the footage from our first visit to Dusk Valley, I held myself back from truly believing this was the break we needed.
So much time had passed. Too much.
Aspen reached for my hand, steadying me.
I hadn’t realized I was crying until a tear caught on my top lip. I snatched it with my tongue and sniffed loudly.
“I’m so sorry,” I said to her. “That your sister isn’t here to celebrate this with you. To see how beautiful you look, how perfect today was. How much Crew loves you.”
“It’s okay,” she assured me. “I’ve long since come to terms with Lola’s absence from my life. It doesn’t get easier, of course. But it’s one of those things I’ve come to accept because I know I can’t change it.” She smiled and squeezed my hand. “Besides, I gained some new sisters today.”
I pulled her into a hug, both of us laughing as our height difference smashed her face into my chest. Still, she wrapped her arms around my waist and clung to me.
We stayed there like that for a while, both of us allowing the tension of our grief to bleed into one another—allowing someone else to carry some of the load.
At last, we broke apart, and I swiped at my face.
Aspen, of course, still looked pristine.
“I’m going to head back,” she said. “You coming?”
“In a minute.” I gestured to my face. “I need to clean myself up. Tell Finn I’ll be right behind you.”
Aspen nodded. “See you down there.”
When she left, I made my way to the powder room on the backside of the main floor, where I’d stashed my makeup after getting ready here earlier.
I touched up my mascara, dabbed some extra concealer under my eyes, and reapplied my lipstick.
Then, shoes in hand because I was not putting the infernal things back on, I was ready to head back to the barn.
The day had cooled considerably with the disappearance of the sun, and I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off the worst of the chill until I returned to the warmth of the reception—and Finn’s body.
I’d cleared the edge of the gravel drive, my feet sinking into the soft, damp grass, when I sensed movement behind me.
Before I could turn, I went flying, landing face down on the ground.
My cast was wedged beneath me, doing little to break my fall.
I tried to scramble away, but a hand caught my ankle, tugging me backward.
The entire front of my dress was soaked with dew, and the gravel of the drive scraped against my skin, opening tiny, stinging cuts all over my legs and good arm.
My scream was cut off by a hand over my face, muffling my pleas for help.
I did my best to scratch and claw and kick out, but with only one hand, it was useless.
There was a sharp prick to my deltoid, followed by a sensation like ice flooding my veins.
The edges of my vision blurred, and strength seeped slowly from my body.
And then there was nothing but blackness.