Chapter 43
More Answers
WES
This just got so much more fucking messy.
Callie’s shaking her head. Her face has lost any trace of color, and she keeps glancing back and forth between me and Noah.
I know what Noah’s thinking. My brother is clenching and unclenching his fists and trying to contain his emotions, the primary of which is likely rage.
He doesn’t give a shit that we killed the father of the man tied up in his back room.
He cares that the man tied up in his back room is the son of the man who murdered our family.
He also likely doesn’t care that he’s the one who suggested letting Callie decide Shane’s fate, because I know my brother, and Noah doesn’t want to let that man leave here alive.
“Shane didn’t kill them,” I say to Noah, working hard to control the rage flowing in my own veins. A consistent thing in all the police reports is that it was a single person who broke into our family’s home.
“Nope. But he sure killed a bunch of women since.” Noah’s furious. “He might as well have.”
“You are correct. But let’s think this through.” I’m not sure what there is to really think through, and I say nothing to kick off thinking through.
Shane might not have killed our family, but he’s an awful person, just like his father. He targets homeless girls and young women. Young, vulnerable, and with no one to look out for them.
He has no right to take their lives away, just like his father had no right to rape and murder Ivy.
“What are we going to do?” Callie asks, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and horror. I wish I could whisk her away from this situation so she doesn’t have to witness or be involved in what happens next.
Should she have a say? Part of me screams no. I need to protect her from any responsibility in the crimes that are currently occurring and the ones that might occur in the future.
But the other part of me says she has every right to be here.
With this new information, the rules have changed. I know it. Noah knows it. And by the look on her face, Callie knows, too. The entire game has changed now that we know who Shane’s father was.
“Shane doesn’t deserve to die for what his father did.” I look at Noah as I finally come up with something to say. “But he might for what he’s done since.”
“Might? Of course he deserves to die. How can we let someone like him go? He’s exactly the kind of scumbag we try to eliminate. He killed our father. Our mother. Ivy.” Noah’s eyes are wide and feral.
That was all true even before we found out about Shane’s connection with our family’s murder. But we brought him here because he’s Joe Killer, not Sammy Sorentino’s son.
“Shane didn’t kill Ivy,” I correct. I’m not very convincing. “We should punish him for his own crimes.”
“Hello? Do I no longer have a say in this?”
Noah flicks his gaze to Callie, eyes immediately softer. He nods to me, and it’s a relief.
“Callie.” I turn to her, the woman I love. I have to tell her how I feel before we make a decision about this. Because maybe it’ll be too late once Shane’s fate is decided. She might not want to hear a thing I have to say.
I memorize her face. Those few freckles across her nose. Wild, long dark hair tucked behind her ears. Those dark eyes.
This woman deserves all the protection in the world.
Please, let me be the one to protect her.
“Wes.” She looks cautious.
“I think you should let Noah and I take care of this situation without your involvement. You can drive away right now in Noah’s truck—”
“Hey! No one drives Red Daisy,” Noah cuts in.
“Shut up, Noah.” And he does. “You don’t want this life. You don’t want to make a decision about a man living or dying. Let me send you away. Then we can talk later. Tomorrow. And pretend this never happened.”
“No, Wes.” Callie shakes her head and watches me with a pained expression.
“You guys need a minute. I’ll come back out in a few.” Noah backs away from us into the kitchen, but I keep my attention strictly on Callie.
I reach for her hands, which she gives me. Maybe how I feel will matter to her, maybe it won’t. But it might be too late if I wait. I squeeze her hands to get her attention.
“I just don’t know, Wes.” She turns her face up to me, her eyes wide and innocent and full of emotion.
I shake my head. “Forget about Shane for a second.”
“Okay.” She nods, although I’m not sure she’ll be able to do it.
“This might not seem like the best time, but I also feel like it’s important I say it now.” Noah’s in the kitchen making some noise, but I ignore him. He’s probably slicing pie.
“Say what, Wesley?” Her expression is clear of pain for the moment.
“You are like no woman I’ve ever met before.” I search her face and sigh when a ghost of a smile appears. “I’ve never had to hide who I am with you. You never gave me that look—the one of fear or disgust or confusion. You were never freaked out by the way I kept track of you.”
“You made me feel safe,” she says, her voice so soft. Now it’s my turn to smile, and I lift my hands to her face, cupping her jaw.
“All I want to do is protect you. From everything. I’d tuck you in my pocket and carry you around if I could.”
She huffs a sweet laugh, but her eyes are filling with tears. That can’t be a good sign. Or is it? Who fucking knows. I’ve never been good at any of this.
“I’d burn the world down for you, Calliope. Do you know that?”
“I think I do.” She nods.
“Some might say I stalked you—and I don’t condone stalking—”
Now she fully laughs. Glad she finds me entertaining? Fuck. But I can’t help but smile with her.
“At least you’re good at it. I was the worst stalker ever.”
“Being good at stalking isn’t something to be proud of.” I run a thumb over her bottom lip, and she takes a ragged breath.
“You made it fun.” Her mouth turns up in a sad smile. I love her smile, but hate that I’m making her sad.
“You played along. You’re perfect.” I run a hand down her long locks.
“I’m not. I’m a mess.”
“You’re perfect for me, Calliope. I love you. I’m in love with you. I think I was from the first time I found you trying to spy on me from the woods in the middle of a snowstorm in a bright pink parka.”
Now the tears spill out of her eyes and down her cheeks as she stares at me with an intensity I’ve never seen before. I swipe the wetness from her face before pulling her arms up so she can wrap them around my neck. She moves her body so she’s straddling me on the couch.
This feeling of her in my arms. I thought I’d never feel it again. And maybe this is the last time. I don’t know. But telling her the truth about how I feel? I might not get right from wrong like the average person, but this is the right thing to do.
“You don’t have to say anything back. But I wanted to tell you all of this before the rest of today unfolds. After tonight, things might be different. You might feel differently about me.”
She nods and presses her lips together.
“But to make it absolutely clear: I love you. I’m in love with you.
I want you in my life in whatever way I can have you.
In an ideal world, you move into my cabin immediately, and we take care of Honey Bunny and Sir Fluffy—I think they could be friends, maybe, but I’m a little nervous your giant rabbit will eat my cat—and bake pies and drink hot chocolate.
You can get a job in Lake Savage. Or Portland.
Or whatever you want to do. We can turn the guest room into your book page art space.
I’ll keep doing what I’ve been doing and we’ll live happily ever fucking after. ”
“Oh my god, Wes.” Another tear escapes from the corner of her eye. “I can’t believe—”
Both of us turn toward a loud shout coming from down the hallway inside the room where Shane is. My eyes dart to the kitchen counter where the pies are. I expect to see Noah, two pies, a stack of plates, and maybe even a few slices of apple pie served.
What I see is close to that, but not quite right.
No Noah. No mince pie.
“Shit.” I drop my hands from Callie’s face and lift her off my lap. I stand and stride to the kitchen counter.
“What? Wes?” Callie’s behind me in an instant, not understanding what I just realized.
“He gave him mince pie.”