25. Dominic
DOMINIC
I ’m reading the very last book of Este’s “After the End of the World” series, wholly consumed by the dystopian world and the compelling characters she has created.
I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a book this much, and I’m in awe of how amazing an author Este is.
Reading these books makes me feel closer to her after six weeks without her.
Without much desire to, I’ve rejoined the land of the living.
I return calls now, and I’m doing the best I can with my shattered heart.
I’m overseeing the care of twelve veterans who live in the tiny home community that Finn and I have created on my side of the creek, and we have plans to expand to the land Este sold me soon.
I read the final page and wipe a tear from my cheek. Now that the books are over, and Este hasn’t reached out, it’s starting to sink in that what we had is in the past. It’s done.
Now it’s time to figure out how to live without the Kai to my Liam. It’s a reality I don’t want to accept, but I can’t keep living in a dream world.
I’m still at my office when the clock hits seven p.m. on a Friday.
Perhaps I’m trying to avoid the real world, which now lacks meaning for me without Este.
I haven’t ordered from the diner we frequented, not even once, and I can’t look at a bubbly wine without getting teary-eyed.
Haven’t been near the creek—can’t even bear the thought.
On the way home, I drive past Este’s grandparents’ property. I notice Este’s car in the driveway. I yearn to pull my Jeep in beside hers, walk in, and at least lay my eyes on her. But I don’t. I shouldn’t. I need to respect her wishes, at least, according to Gwen and my own therapist.
I’ve been trying to reach Mac on his cell phone all day to schedule a follow-up.
He’d been put on an entirely new medication for his mental illnesses, and I’d prescribed something for his night terrors.
He’s a good guy, probably one of my favorites, and I was glad when I stumbled cross him at a homeless encampment a while back. I’m happy he’s here.
I pull into the garage and park; the small Glock I carry concealed on my hip digs uncomfortably into me as I get out.
I almost put it back in my gun safe, but I’ve seen one too damn many Copperheads out and about in this hot weather.
I’ll shoot one if it gets too aggressive, and Este’s not here to stop me.
My property is big enough and far enough from civilization that nobody will be concerned with the gunfire.
I walk through the gated fence and head over toward the first six tiny houses, saying hello to some of the veterans barbecuing.
“Anyone seen Mac?” I ask.
“Not in about an hour,” Shep tells me as he flips a burger. “Feel free to come back in five. I’m happy to feed you, and anyway, you’re looking a little thin, Dominic.”
“Thanks, but I need to find Mac. Maybe I’ll come back in a bit.”
I keep heading over to the next section of tiny houses that are further back toward the creek, hidden beneath shady trees. When I knock on Mac’s door, it creaks open, and I can’t stop myself. I peek in.
When I see Mac, he’s face down on the floor, bleeding profusely.
My emergency training kicks into high gear, and I roll him over carefully to check his airway and ensure he’s breathing.
His pulse is thready and weak, but he’s breathing on his own.
He’s lost a lot of blood from what appear to be stab wounds.
They’re everywhere, but the ones to his chest are bleeding the worst.
Holy shit. I blink back memories from war that wash over me like a summer rainstorm, and then I focus.
“Mac, man, what happened? Mac!” I shake him gently at first and then give him a vigorous sternal rub, which rouses him.
“Mac, who did it? Where’d they go?”
“Old guy. Jumped in the creek,” is all Mac manages to say. His voice is weak.
I grab dishcloths and hold them to his wounds, and then I put his hands over them and tell him to push down as hard as he can.
“Help is coming,” I promise Mac.
Running out of the tiny house, I first scream for Shep and dial 911 as I sprint back over to the other tiny homes and ask for help.
I spit out the details to 911 and send Shep over to Mac with instructions to keep him talking and put pressure on his chest wounds.
It shouldn’t be hard for him, since he was also an Army Medic.
Oh, no. Este!
With my heart beating a clamorous crescendo in my ears, I slide into the creek and swim over to Este’s side, where it’s easier to get out using the ladder her grandfather installed in the creekside.
The water is higher than usual, bloated from recent rains, but I slice my hands through the water as my military training has taught me. I pull myself up the ladder and run full speed toward Este’s house.
I hear a scream, and fear pierces my heart.
If I don’t hurry, I could be too late. I can’t let him hurt her.
Drawing my weapon and holding it pointed down at my side, I race around the back of the house and glance in the windows, terrified of the sight I might see.
Horrified that I may find Este down with stab wounds like Mac’s.
The lights shine brightly inside the house, and there are boxes everywhere, so I know she’s in there. It’s anybody’s guess where she might be, hopefully in a good fucking hiding place.
I’m breathing too heavily, fear prickling through my body in a way I’m unfamiliar with. In the desert, all I did was follow orders. Now, Este’s relying on me to save her life, and I can’t let my love down.
With a sinking feeling and adrenaline pouring through my veins so hard my hands shake, I stealthily round the side of the house, peeking in windows as I go, and finally, I hear voices shouting from the driveway.
“Get away from me!” Este’s yell rings in my ears.
I use the side of the house to cover me, reaching out with one hand to steady myself against the siding, and I crane my neck around the corner.
I spot an older man, maybe sixty-five, with white hair, a beard, and a long kitchen knife, chasing Este around her car in the last moments of daylight.
Panic rises in my throat, along with bile, as I see her kick off her shoes and dash around the car, putting some distance between herself and the man who stands with a knife above his head.
I don’t take my eyes off him as he slashes it in her direction, the silver glinting in the sunlight. My breath is caught, the air squeezing out of my lungs as I watch a terrified Este crouching down out of his sight behind the car.
She’s so close to escaping.
Get in the car, Este. Get in the car! Lock the doors!
But she doesn’t.
My chest heaves, and I bite the inside of my cheek so hard that a metallic taste floods my mouth. My hands tremble around the cool metal of my gun.
The man with the knife makes a few quick strides threatening Este. He’s inches from her with the knife above his head. He brings it down in a quick slashing motion, and she screams so loud, it sends chills up my spine.
Is she hurt? Oh, God, please let him miss her. I fix my eyes on the scene as Este continues to run, circling her car with the man only steps behind her.
I hear him wheeze, and I hope like hell Este wears him out. Or that he’ll stop moving for a minute to let me get off a shot.
That’s the moment Este’s terror-filled eyes spot me standing with my gun pointed at the stranger. We exchange a quick look. She stops, while the madman gains ground and nearly stabs her in the back.
With a scream, she takes off across the grass. He follows, heading straight for me. The madman makes up some of the distance, and he’s so close to Este, he can almost touch her.
Touch her and fucking leave in a body bag.
I swallow a lump in my throat and remind myself that the best thing I can do to ensure Este’s survival is to stay calm.
He’s dripping sweat and cussing, bringing down the knife in a slashing motion just inches from her.
“Come here, darlin’, I just want to smell that pretty hair of yours!” The man calls as he chases her, sounding deranged.
I don’t want him to see me until the right moment, and Este seems to sense that. At first, I take a few steps back behind the house to conceal myself, but I hear her blood-curdling scream and inch forward again.
My heart stops. He’s way too close.
That’s the moment the blade comes down, and I can see the glint as it catches the sun before sliding into the porcelain skin of Este’s back.
Oh, fuck.
Pain etches across her face. She grimaces, scrunching up her face, and that’s when she stumbles. A trill of panic heats my skin, and my pulse ratchets up into the hundreds as I beg her not to fall. Este catches herself and keeps running, but she’s only gained a few feet on him.
When he laughs hysterically and yells, “Got ya!” I know it’s time to end this.
“Down!” I scream.
Right now, she’s blocking my shot.
The man gets distracted by the sight of me, just long enough to stop foisting the sharp kitchen knife through the air in Este’s direction, and she speeds up while he slows.
I hold my gun, unflinching as Este throws herself into the grass ahead of her, hands flying to the back of her neck to protect herself as she lies completely flat and still.
I’m already in the position I practice every week at the range.
I aim for center mass and shoot with calm, steady hands and a clear head.
“BANG!” The noise reverberates through the air. I’m off by a couple of inches, so I breathe slowly and squeeze the trigger on my exhale three more times.
His chest explodes.
The man drops, and I know he’s dead. I understand the lethality of my weapon, so I don’t doubt he’s gone. Now I need to get to Este.
I don’t want her to see the grisly scene behind her.
“Come to me, Este,” I call, my hands shaking now as I shove my gun back into my holster. “Don’t look back, baby.”