Chapter 48
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For the last week, when the guys have to leave for work, I haven’t complained once, and I feel like that earns me a gold medal.
Then again, they gifted me a whole damn studio—the perfect place to spend my time.
Tonight, however, they’re all acting a little weird. Instead of leaving me to paint, they’re all in here watching me.
I’ve asked over and over whether everything is okay or if anything has come up in the case, but they all insist that nothing is wrong.
The three of them together are either planning something incredibly thoughtful or incredibly stupid.
Both options are equally likely.
I’m washing my hands after cleaning up when they all nod, stand together, and surround me.
I dry my hands, then turn around. “Is this an intervention or something?”
“Date night,” Santiago answers with a smirk.
I grin, excitedly. “Riding again?”
Levi tilts his head from side to side. “Not quite.”
I lift a single brow. “Where are we going?”
Instead of answering my question, Walker suggests, “You’re going to want to wear all black.”
My lips pull down into a frown. “Why?”
Walker hands me a bundle of black fabric that I didn’t notice he was holding. “Black clothes help you blend in when it’s dark.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are we doing something illegal?”
They exchange a look and bust up laughing.
My eyes bounce between them as I smile uneasily. “But seriously. Are we?”
They still don’t answer. Instead, they chose to guide me to the bathroom and tell me to get dressed. I do as they ask, dressing in a black long-sleeve thermal, black leggings, thick black wool socks, and black combat boots.
What is this? Military training?
When I exit the bathroom, they’ve changed into all black outfits as well.
Santiago looks around at all of us and beams. “I feel like we need to get some eye black to paint a line under our eyes to complete the look.”
“I’m willing,” Levi says, raising his hand.
“I’m not,” Walker returns with a glare.
“I’ll do it if you tell me where we’re going,” I negotiate.
Walker looks relieved. “Two versus two. No eye black.”
“You’ll both do it anyway,” Santiago says confidently.
Santiago ends up being right. In the car on the way to the undisclosed location, he wears Walker and me down into putting on the eye black, which Santiago had in his pocket the whole time.
When we turn down a road I’ve avoided for twenty-three years, my chest tightens.
They wouldn’t take me there. It’s not exactly a date night location.
But then we take a right turn into the parking lot. My palms grow clammy, and my pulse races.
Levi parks his truck and shuts off the engine. Santiago and Levi turn in their seats to look at me. Walker’s hand moves across the back seat and grasps my own.
My eyes stare out the windshield toward the field, sparse with trees. “I don’t want to be here,” I whisper. “I don’t want to see him.”
Walker squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to.”
I can’t do this. I don’t want to.
But why did they bring me here? What’s the point?
He does not control me. I am stronger now.
I repeat the mantra until my muscles allow me to move. Slowly, I climb out of the cab and move to the front of the car. The guys meet me there.
Levi and Santiago each grab one of my hands, while Walker stands behind me. They don’t move a muscle until I lift my foot to step forward, and we make our way across Evergreen Falls Cemetery.
Old snow crunches beneath our boots. Bare cottonwoods stand watch over the dead, their skeletal branches creaking whenever the wind stirs.
Dozens of footprints from loved ones who have been here recently are scattered among the granite headstones.
The lettering on many of the headstones is softened beneath caps of snow, their families and friends not having visited in some time.
The cold settles deep in my lungs with each breath.
The farther we walk, the quieter the world becomes. Even the wind seems to die. Every footstep in the snow feels too loud.
Too final.
Like the dead are listening.
I don’t need anyone to tell me which grave we’re headed to. My body remembers the way, even though I haven’t been here since I was seven years old.
The headstone we stop at is a polished black granite. Dirt and snow cover part of his name. I reach forward and brush it away.
Landon Kurt Jennings.
Loving husband and father
A bitter laugh catches in my throat.
Loving.
That’s one way to write history—with lies.
Shaking my head, I fold my arms, and my voice turns bitter with venom. “Is this some kind of fucked up way of making me move on? Am I supposed to sit here and tell him I forgive him?”
“Is that what you want to do?” Levi asks.
I can’t stop staring at the words.
Loving husband and father.
What bullshit.
“Hell fucking no,” I bark.
“What do you want to say?” Santiago questions.
I clench my jaw. “Nothing.”
“Then don’t.” Walker grasps my wrist, forcing a wooden handle into my hand.
Turning to my guys, I grip the handle with both hands and hold it between us. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Whatever the hell you want.” Walker tips his head in indication.
Hesitantly, I face the headstone again. My grip tightens around the sledgehammer.
Whatever the hell I want.
I know what I want. I want him gone for good.
Loving husband and father.
Wielding the tool like a baseball bat, I lift it over my shoulder and swing it in an arc to the side. When the end makes contact with the granite, a tremor vibrates up my arms, and a small chip falls to the ground.
That’s it.
One tiny piece.
He took everything from me, and all I get is a little sliver?
Loving husband and father.
With a roar I didn’t know I possessed inside me, I lift the sledgehammer again and use all my muscles to bring it above my head and slam it down.
Loving husband and father.
I can’t stop until those words are gone, erased from existence.
I swing again.
And again.
And again.
“You touched me!”
CRACK!
“You took my childhood from me!”
CRACK!
“You hurt me!”
CRACK!
“I hate you!”
CRASH!
Unable to lift the sledgehammer anymore, the handle falls from my grasp with a thud. My breaths are fast and shallow, fatigued from labor.
The headstone lies before me in pieces.
I drop to my knees, my last words to my father thick in my throat.
“You don’t get to exist in my world anymore, Landon Jennings. I won’t let you or your memory haunt me anymore.”
I don’t realize tears are streaming down my face until the wind chills the streaks.
My shoulders shake. Not from the cold, but from the sobs wracking my soul.
I cry for the little girl who didn’t know any better.
For the girl who thought she was tainted.
Walker kneels behind me and kisses the top of my head, encircling me in his arms. “You did good, Baby Girl. You did good.”
Levi kneels on my right, wiping my tears. “He’s gone, Butterfly. He doesn’t get to take up space in your life anymore.”
Santiago takes the spot on my left and brushes my hair out of my face. “Estoy tan orgulloso de ti, mi Cielo.” I’m so proud of you, my Sky.
I close my eyes and let myself lean into them.
For years, I believed healing meant forgetting—that one day I’d wake up and the thought of Landon simply wouldn't hurt anymore.
I was wrong.
Healing isn't pretending the past never happened. It’s refusing to let it decide who I become.
The little girl buried beneath years of fear isn’t forgotten tonight.
But she finally doesn't feel alone.
Snow settles over the shattered pieces of granite, slowly covering the lie carved into the stone.
Somehow, it feels less like an ending and more like the first page of the rest of my life.