Epilogue
The cemetery is quiet in a way that feels intentional. Respectful. It’s a silence that doesn’t rush you through grief or try to soften it. Winter clouds hang low overheard, the air cool and clean, smelling faintly of wet earth and stone.
My arm is still trapped tight against my side, hidden beneath my coat. My father walks beside me, slower than usual, like he’s afraid to outpace me, or maybe afraid of what waits at the end of the path.
We stop in front of her simple headstone.
Sadie Masterson.
Beloved Mother.
Gone Too Soon.
The words hit harder than I expect. My chest tightens, breath catching before I can stop it. I stare down at her name, tracing the carved letters with my eyes like if I look enough, I might finally understand the woman everyone else knew better than I ever did.
My father clears his throat.
“I haven’t wanted to come up here,” he admits quietly.
I don’t look at him. “Why now?”
He exhales, long and shaky. “Because I can finally face her without hate or vengeance coursing through my veins.”
That makes me glance up.
He looks smaller out here. Not weak—just human. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his coat, shoulders bowed like the weight of everything he didn’t see has finally settled in.
“She tried to tell me,” he says. His voice cracks on the words, and he pauses, jaw tightening like he’s fighting the instinct to swallow it back down. “Not all at once. Not in a way that would’ve blown everything apart. But she tried.”
My heart stutters.
“She’d ask questions,” he continues. “About Emma. Shaw. About whether I was really sure certain people were loyal. She’d be everywhere I always was, poking in.
I thought it was drugs. She was so scared and paranoid.
I told myself it was easier to believe she was unraveling than to consider something was wrong. ”
I hug my coat tighter around myself, the cold of the early morning winds seeping in places the fabric can’t reach.
“She came to me once,” he says softly. “Late. Emma and the kids were sleeping. She was shaking. Told me something felt wrong. That someone was watching. That Laurel—” his mouth twists around the name. “I shit her down. Told her to sober up and get off my property.”
His voice drops. “I should have trusted her.”
The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. I stare at the headstone again, at the name I grew up loving and resenting in equal measure.
“She sent me away the day Henry came for her,” I whisper. “One an errand across town. One that took two trains and three buses to get to.”
He nods. “She knew he was coming for her that day.”
The finality in his voice makes my throat burn.
“She was trying to save me,” he says, reaching into his jacket and pulling something out from the inside pocket.
It looks like a letter. He hands it to me.
I take it with trembling hands. “I wish I wouldn’t have been so blind and arrogant to see it.
I built a world where loyalty mattered more than listening.
Where power made me think I was untouchable.
And I missed the one person who was brave enough to stand in front of me and say something was wrong.
His shoulders sag.
“I failed her,” he admits. “And I failed you.”
The words don’t fix anything. They don’t bring her back. But they matter. Because for the first time, he isn’t deflecting or explaining or hiding behind duty.
He’s owning it.
I step closer to the grave and rest my hand against the cool stone.
“I didn’t know who she really was,” I say quietly. “But I know she loved me. I know she tried.”
“Yes,” he says immediately. “She loved you more than anything. Everything she did—every risk—was for you.”
I swallow hard, tears blurring my vision despite my effort to hold them back.
My father steps closer, stopping short of touching me. “I can’t change what I didn’t see. Or the years you spent paying for it. But I’m here now. And I won’t ever ignore what you tell me again. Not your fears. Not your instincts. Not your voice.”
I look at him then. Really look at him.
“You have to mean that,” I say.
“I do,” he replies without hesitation. “I swear to you—and to her.”
The wind shifts, rustling the bare branches overhead. For a moment, it feels like she is listening.
“I’ll leave you to that letter,” my father says. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead before making his way back to the truck.
With shaking hands, I unfold the letter. Her handwriting, familiar and delicate, stares back at me.
Hello, my darling Peyton,
I inhale shakily and begin to read:
I’m so sorry, my love. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the mother you needed.
That I wasn’t strong enough to resist the temptation my mother brought forward in the shape of Henry.
I am sorry I couldn’t protect you the way you deserved.
You are the bravest, strongest part of me, and I am so proud of you.
I hope, when you read this, you can feel my love surrounding you, even if I’m not there to hold you myself.
You must survive. You must live. And you must never doubt that I loved you more than anything.
The words blur as tears sting my eyes. My hands shake, my chest tightens, and I press the letter to my lips.
Always and forever,
Mom
I drop to my knees, trembling, clutching the letter like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to her. Silent sobs shake my body, wracking me with everything I’ve held in for years—the fear, the anger, the grief, and the love I never got to show her.
A shadow falls over me. Colter’s voice is soft, careful.
“I’m sorry, little star.”
He kneels beside me, hesitant at first, then wraps his arms around me. His chest is solid, warm, and steady against my shaking frame. I bury my face there, letting the tears fall freely, the letter crumpled in my fist against his side.
“How did you know I was here?” I hiccup.
“I always know where you are, Peyton,” he murmurs into my hair. “No matter where you go, I will always find you.”
For the first time in so long, I let myself truly break. And for the first time, I let someone else hold all the pieces with me.
I cling to him, to the warmth and the promise in his embrace, as the winter wind whispers through the bare trees.
And for the first time since she was taken from me, I feel at peace.
“I love you, Colter Shaw.”
He kisses the top of my head.
“You are my world, little star,” he tells me. “Now and forever.”
Not ready to leave this world behind?