Chapter 32 Sebastian
SEBASTIAN
Just don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me.
It was pathetic. Of all the things running through my mind right now, those three words were the loudest. Don’t hate me.
How could I whine about the position I’d put myself in? Since the moment this began, I knew this time would come. Maybe in a year, maybe five, maybe twenty. Eventually, she was going to realize it was me.
But I’d hoped we’d build enough rapport by then. I’d hoped she would trust me. That she would understand I hadn’t done this to manipulate her or hold it over her.
I was just trying to help.
But you know what they say about intentions and the path to hell.
Gwen wanted the body, so I would take her to it.
It was too cold to go out in what she had worn here. I gave her one of my snowsuits and a winter coat. She stepped into them, all while juggling the now-loaded gun.
Hadn’t she realized yet? If I wanted to hurt her, wouldn’t I have done it while she was holding an empty, useless weapon?
The moment that thought ran through my mind, my stomach twisted and my head hurt, because of course she would keep the gun aimed at me.
An hour ago, the two of us were wrapped in one another’s embrace, drunk on the warmth and comfort of each other’s skin.
She’d professed her love, I’d professed mine, and then I did the very thing I had feared from the beginning.
I’d made her worst fear a reality.
I’d betrayed her.
Not only had I gotten rid of David’s body. I’d known how to do so. I’d lied to her, to everyone, too well.
I was too damn good at this, and that scared her.
Keeping the gun on me was smart.
But she didn’t understand.
If I wanted to keep her, I had to tell her the truth. I had to tell her everything.
That was the obvious conclusion, but as I led her from the primary suite down the steps and out the rear door, all with Honey at our side, my brain kept spinning.
What if she takes the body and gets pulled over with it in the trunk?
What if she tells them what I’m about to tell her?
I shouldn’t tell her. I can’t. It wasn’t the same thing.
She won’t understand. It won’t make anything better.
She’ll still hate me. She’ll hate that I lied, that I was so damn good at it, and she’ll hate me.
I can’t tell her.
But she’s going to see. There won’t be a way to hide it when I bring David’s body out of the grave.
Don’t I need that? Don’t I need to tell someone? Isn’t it time?
All her secrets are on the table. I know the worst things that she’s done. She deserves that same transparency, doesn’t she?
No.
No, because she’s never going to look at me the same after this.
But she’s never going to look at me the same anyway.
That’s why she needs the whole story.
Sick to my stomach, I led the way to the garage. Gwen’s fingers trembled around the gun, and I wanted to puke.
She was afraid. Of me.
Careful to keep my hands visible, I collected the basics. Into the bucket of my tractor, I loaded a couple tarps, a few bundles of firewood, a handful of flashlights, and a shovel.
I gestured to the seat of the tractor. “Do you want to drive? Or—”
“Can’t keep the gun on you if I do.” She nodded up to it. “Go on. Me and Honey will walk.”
“We’re going a solid five miles up and down the mountain.” Clicking my tongue, I shook my head. “You can’t walk that far in the middle of the night in ten-degree weather, Gwen.”
“Well, I don’t know how to drive one anyway,” she snapped. “So any other suggestions?”
“You can sit up here.” I patted the metal box behind the driver’s seat. “Not as comfy, but better than walking.”
Glaring, she gestured to the open walkway on my right. “Move.”
Like a blade through my chest.
She wouldn’t even walk past me? Why? Because I could reach her? I could grab her? I could… what?
Kill her?
She thought I would do that?
I blinked at the sting across my eyes. I moved.
With at least a five-foot berth—one my arms couldn’t reach through—she walked with her back to the tractor and her eyes on mine. That blue gaze was cold, lethal, but her fingers still quivered.
Gun still aimed at me, she lifted one foot onto the tractor. She gripped the rollbar for stability and climbed onto the tackle box. Once she was up there, she held a hand out for Honey. “Come here, baby.”
Honey did as she was told, but even on her hind legs, she could barely reach the first step. I stepped forward to help her, to give her a boost.
Gwen said, “Don’t touch her.”
I frowned up at her, only to find the gun inches from my face. “You really think that I would hurt her?”
“I think I have no idea who you are, Sebastian.” She spoke between gritted teeth. “Get back.”
The knife in my chest twisted.
I stepped back.
Gwen laid the gun on the floor beneath her feet. She kept her eyes on me, as if to remind me she could reach it before I could. Because truly, from the bottom of her heart, she believed I could do it. She believed I could point that gun and pull the trigger.
She was right.
I could use that on a thousand people. I could mercilessly fire that weapon.
I was physically and psychologically able to point it at someone’s head, someone’s heart, and pull the trigger.
I could paint my garage in someone’s blood, mop the white matter off the ground, neatly pack the skull fragments and tissue into black bags, without so much as a tear escaping.
But not her.
I couldn’t even raise my voice at Gwen.
With Honey in her lap, she grabbed the gun and aimed it at me. “Let’s go.”
Shoulders curling, I grabbed one of the flashlights from the bucket of the tractor and passed it to her.
She took it but said nothing.
I loaded into the seat, turned the engine over, and our trek through the woods began.
Once we were on it, bouncing up and down the mountainous terrain, struggling over mounds of snow, my mind started turning again.
Tell her the truth and lose her, or lie and lose her. Those are your options.
Would lying keep me safe? Would it keep the truth from coming out?
No. Not really.
She knew we had all too much in common now.
She had killed. I had killed.
But Gwen had killed in self-defense. I didn’t know the whole story, but I could tell from the body. The slices in his knuckles. The scratch marks descending his neck and torso.
She’d done what she had to.
I had done what I wanted to.
She couldn’t forgive that, could she?
Maybe she would tell me her story if I asked. I wouldn’t be able to hear it over the roar of the tractor, but when we stopped, when we got to the grave, maybe that could start the conversation. Maybe she was as desperate to get it off her chest as I was to get it off mine.
It was almost an hour later when the pine tree became visible.
It stood higher than all the others. On a normal day, that’s how I remembered this spot.
But one time, I came out in the middle of the night, and I couldn’t remember which one it was.
So I searched and searched, finally found it, and carved an S into the tree.
That S stared back at me now.
Lit only by Gwen’s flashlight and the moon above, I stepped from the tractor and started shoveling by hand.
The bucket may have moved the snow faster, but I needed to stretch after that ride.
I needed the cool air against my skin. The flush of adrenaline as I hit the ice layer was the boost I needed.
Grabbing a bundle of wood from the bucket, I searched for Gwen’s eyes behind the blinding flashlight. “I should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t. I just—”
“Shut up and dig the damn hole.”
Sucking my teeth, silence resumed. Deep, aching silence. The kind only winter brought.
No bugs hummed in the brush, no birds sang in the trees. A few twinkling snowflakes fell from the sky, but no wind rustled the branches. The only sound for miles was the crackling of my fire and Honey’s panting.
When the ground was wet enough, I stomped out the fire, climbed back into the tractor, and dug. An hour must have passed by the time I hit ice again. Rinse, repeat. I hopped out, lit another fire, and let it burn for a while. We stayed silent while it did.
I almost apologized again. But I swallowed it back down, because she didn’t want to hear that. She knew why I’d lied. Didn’t change that I was so damn good at it. Didn’t change that I wasn’t who she thought I was.
When the fire had burned a while, I stomped it out again, climbed back into the tractor, and resumed digging. We were close now. One more fire, and I would reach David.
Right now, Gwen was inches behind me, her body heat warming my back. Each breath she took, I felt against the nape of my neck. Her knee was right against my shoulder, and what if this was the last time we sat so close to each other? What if she never wanted to see me again after this?
What if she hated me?
I needed to say something else before she saw the body.
Over the hum of the tractor, I choked out, “What happened?”
“What happened to what?” Each word was as pointed as a sword.
“With David. I know the story you told Edwards was bullshit, but I’ve been trying to map it out for months.
” I dipped the bucket down into the hole.
Now full of damp dirt, I lifted the arm in the air and dumped it beside the tree.
“I have the feeling you were there. Or maybe Simone called you and told you he hurt her, so you hunted him? He had a lot of defensive wounds though, so I’m leaning toward the former.
I don’t know. I’m just curious how it went down. ”