Chapter 44
CHAPTER
FORTY-FOUR
RYAN
Marcus is the first to leave. He packs up his surveillance equipment with the efficiency of someone who's done this a thousand times. Camera, laptop, lenses—everything disappears into a black duffel bag within minutes.
"I'll have the full report to you by tomorrow night," he says, shaking my hand. "Photos, video, timeline. Everything you'll need."
"Thanks, Marcus. I appreciate it."
He nods, glances toward the house where Julie and Jamie are still standing in the driveway, and lowers his voice. "She did good in there. Kept her composure. That's not easy."
"No," I agree. "It's not."
He leaves, and I turn back to the two women who are still staring down the empty street where Asher's car disappeared.
Julie hasn't moved. She's standing there in jeans and a t-shirt, arms wrapped around herself, looking smaller than I've ever seen her.
Jamie has her hand on Julie's back, rubbing slow circles. Jamie and I exchange a look. Julie was tough as nails when Asher and Devon were here, but the cost is being paid right now. She was a warrior while she had to be. And now, she’s breaking.
"Come on," I say gently. "Let's go inside."
Julie doesn't respond. She just keeps staring.
"Jules," Jamie says softly. "Come on, honey. Let's go in."
This time, Julie nods. Just barely. And she lets us guide her back toward the house.
Julie takes three steps into the foyer and stops. Her breathing gets faster. Shallower.
"Julie?" Jamie moves toward her. "Hey, it's okay?—"
"It's not okay." Julie's voice cracks. "It's not—none of this is okay."
And then she breaks. It's not a quiet cry. It's not a few tears. It's a full-body collapse, like every bit of strength she's been holding onto just gave out all at once. Jamie catches her before she hits the floor, wrapping her arms around her sister as Julie sobs into her shoulder.
"He was never real," she whispers. "The man I married was never real. I don't... I don't even know who I was married to."
"You were married to a liar," I say quietly. "A manipulative piece of shit who didn't deserve you."
"But I loved him." She pulls back from Jamie, her face red and wet. "And it was all—it was all fake. He didn't love me. He never loved me. He just—he just needed someone to marry so his father would?—"
She breaks off, pressing her hands to her face.
Jamie pulls her back in, and they sink to the floor together, right there in the foyer.
I crouch down beside them, my hand on Julie's back.
She's shaking. Trembling so hard I can feel it through her shirt.
It makes me want to find him and snap his neck like a fucking twig.
"I'm so stupid," she says. "I'm so fucking stupid."
"You're not stupid," Jamie says fiercely. "Don't you dare say that."
"I believed him. I believed every word. Every lie. Every—" Her voice breaks again. "He looked me in the eye and told me he loved me and I believed him."
"Because you're a good person," I say. "Because you trust people. That's not a flaw, Julie. That's not something to be ashamed of."
"It feels like it is."
We stay like that for a long time. Julie crying, Jamie crying, me trying to hold them both together. Eventually, Julie's sobs quiet to hiccups. She pulls away from Jamie and wipes her face with the back of her hand.
"I need—" She stands up, swaying slightly. "I need a minute."
"Okay," Jamie says. "Do you want me to?—"
"No. I need a minute alone."
She walks toward the stairs, her steps unsteady. Jamie and I watch her go. When she's out of sight, Jamie turns to me. Her face is blotchy and wet, her eyes red.
"Thank you," she says. "For everything. For being here. For helping her.”
"You don't have to thank me."
"Yes, I do." She wipes her eyes. "You didn't have to do any of this. You could've just stayed out of it. But you didn't. You?—"
A loud thud from upstairs cuts her off. We both freeze. Another thud. Then a dragging sound.
"What is she—" Jamie starts.
We hear footsteps. Fast, heavy footsteps.
And then Julie appears at the top of the stairs.
She's holding an armful of bedding from the master bedroom, sheets and a fluffy comforter tangled around her arms. She doesn't say anything.
She just hurls it over the railing. It lands in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.
"Julie?" Jamie calls up. "What are you?—"
Julie disappears. More thumping. More dragging. She comes back with pillows. Four of them. She throws them down one by one, each landing with a soft thud.
Then she's gone again. This time when she comes back, she's holding shoes. The black heels Devon wore to dinner. Julie holds them up, one in each hand, and for a second I think she's going to say something. But she doesn't. She just throws them.
They clatter down the stairs, one bouncing off the railing, the other skidding across the hardwood floor. "I want to burn it," Julie says. Her voice is different now. Not broken. Not sad. Angry. "I want to burn all of it. Every fucking piece."
Jamie looks at me. I look at her. And then I nod. "Okay," I say. "Then we burn it."
She needs this. She needs to destroy something, to take back some kind of control, to let the rage out before it eats her alive.
So Jamie and I gather up the bedding, the pillows, the shoes.
Julie comes down the stairs with more—a bathrobe that smells like Asher's cologne and a framed photo from their honeymoon.
We carry it all outside to the fire pit by the lake. It's the middle of the night. If any neighbors are seeing this, they're wondering why anyone would have a bonfire at this hour. I start the fire while Jamie and Julie pile everything beside the pit.
When the flames are going strong, Julie picks up the comforter and the sheets first. She doesn't hesitate.
She just throws it all in. The fire roars, consuming the fabric.
Smoke billows up, thick and dark. She stands there watching, her face illuminated by the flames.
Then she picks up a pillow and throws it in.
Then another. Then the shoes. Each item she burns seems to take something from her—some piece of the grief, some piece of the anger.
Jamie and I don't say anything. We just stand there with her, feeding the fire when it starts to die down, making sure it stays hot enough to burn everything to ash.
At some point, Julie starts crying again.
But it's different this time. Not the broken sobs from before.
Just tears, streaming down her face as she watches everything burn.
"I hate him," she says quietly. "I hate him so much."
"I know," Jamie says.
"I hate that I loved him. I hate that I believed him.
I hate that I—" She stops, her voice catching.
"I hate that I can't go back and undo it.
I can't go back and not meet him. I can't go back and see through the lies.
I'm just stuck with this. With knowing that the last few years of my life were a fucking lie. "
"They weren't all a lie," I say. "The person you were in that marriage—that was real. Your feelings were real. Your love was real. He's the one who was fake. Not you."
She looks at me, tears still falling. "Does that make it better or worse?"
"I don't know," I admit. "But it's the truth."
She nods and turns back to the fire. We stay out there for a long time. The fire burns hot and bright, then slowly dies down to embers. By the time it's just glowing coals, Jamie has fallen asleep on the outdoor couch, curled up under a blanket she found somewhere.
Julie is sitting on the ground beside the fire pit, her knees pulled up to her chest. I'm sitting next to her, close enough that our shoulders are touching. She's not crying anymore. She's just staring into the embers, her face blank.
"Thank you," she says finally. "For this. For all of it."
"You don't have to thank me."
"Yes, I do." She leans her head against my shoulder. "You didn't have to help me. You didn't have to get involved. But you did. And I—" Her voice cracks. "I don't know what I would've done without you."
"You would've figured it out," I say. "You're stronger than you think."
"I don't feel strong."
"You are. Trust me."
She's quiet for a long moment. Then she says, "I'm so tired, Ryan."
"I know."
"I don't mean physically. I mean—" She sighs. "I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of being angry. I'm tired of thinking about him and what he did and how stupid I was."
"You weren't stupid."
"I feel stupid."
"That's different."
She doesn't respond. And after a minute, I realize her breathing has slowed. Deepened. She's asleep. I sit there for a while longer, making sure the fire is completely out. The embers fade to black, the heat dissipating.
When I'm sure it's safe, I carefully shift Julie off my shoulder and stand up. She doesn't wake. I scoop her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her back. I carry her to my car and settle her in the passenger seat, buckling her in as gently as I can. Then I go back for Jamie.
She wakes up when I lift her, blinking groggily. "Wha?—"
"It's okay," I say quietly. "We're going back to the house. Go back to sleep."
She nods and closes her eyes, her head resting against my chest. I get her into the backseat, buckle her in, and then I drive. The streets are quiet. Empty. The sun will be up soon. What a fucking night.
When we get back to the house, I carry Jamie in first. She's awake enough to walk, but I guide her to one of the bedrooms and help her into bed.
"Thank you," she mumbles.
"Get some sleep."
Then I go back for Julie. She stirs when I lift her out of the car, her eyes fluttering open.
"Ryan?"
"Yeah. It's me. We're at the house."
"Okay." She closes her eyes again, her head resting against my shoulder.
I carry her inside and down the hall to the other bedroom. I set her down on the bed as gently as I can, but when I start to pull away, her hand catches my wrist.
"Don't go," she whispers. "Please. I don't want to be alone."
I hesitate. "Julie?—"
"Please, Ryan.”
There's something in her voice—something raw and desperate—that makes the decision for me.
"Okay," I say. "I'll stay."
I kick off my shoes and lie down beside her on top of the covers. She immediately curls into me, her head on my chest, her arm across my stomach.
"Thank you," she whispers.
"You're welcome."
Within minutes, her breathing evens out.
She's asleep. I lie there in the dark, one arm around her, staring at the ceiling.
I think about Asher. About the look on his face when Julie kicked him out.
I think about Julie. About the way she broke down in the foyer.
About the way she stood by the fire, watching everything burn.
I think about how much I want to protect her.
How much I want to make sure she never hurts like this again.
But I can't protect her from the past. I can't undo what Asher did. All I can do is be here. Now. In this moment, helping her process the evil shit the man I believed was my best friend did to her.
So I hold her while she sleeps and watch over her. And I promise myself that no matter what happens next, I'm not going anywhere. She's not alone anymore. Not as long as I'm here.