Chapter 42
Logan
Logan:
I saw the news.
Logan:
Are you okay?
From my window, I watch the headlights move up Emery’s driveway after midnight, the two texts I sent her unanswered. The car darkens and about twenty seconds later, the house’s porch lights flash on.
I wait with grim anticipation for the flashlight to cut through the field between us, signaling her trek here.
But there’s no sign of it and when her outdoor lights turn off, I know there won’t be.
Fuck this.
I dial her number.
“Hey,” she answers, exhaustion heavy in her voice.
“Hey.” I let the greeting hang.
“It’s definitely Holly. We found her.”
My stomach sinks. “I figured as much.” They didn’t confirm it on the news. “Is Isla at Dillon’s?”
“Yeah. He picked her up from school before the news broke, so she wouldn’t have to hear it with everyone else.”
That poor kid. “Come over,” I demand.
“I … I can’t right now. I just … Tomorrow’s going to be another long day. Good night, Logan.” She ends the call before I can respond, leaving me unsettled.
I’ve known Emery all my life, and both the little girl and this grown-up version are like a wounded animal in search of a corner to hide in so they can suffer alone.
Grabbing my jacket and flashlight, I leave my place and cut across the field, racing up the steps.
Duke barks at my knock on the front door.
Moments later, the porch lights come on. Emery peeks out the window before unlocking the door. She’s still in uniform. Her cheeks are tearstained, like she was crying the whole drive home. “It’s past ten. You can’t be here. Your curfew—”
“Glen isn’t gonna send me back to jail for cutting across a field.”
She doesn’t put up a fight as I move inside, shutting the door behind me. “Talk to me.”
She shrugs, her focus on the old hardwood floor. “We knew the chances of finding her alive were low, even nonexistent. It’s been six months. At least we have a body to work with now. It should give us some clues.” She’s rambling—a clear sign that she’s about to lose it.
“Come here.” I pull her into my chest before she has a chance to argue, curling my arms around her. “It’s just you and me. You don’t have to pretend it’s okay. None of this is okay.”
Finally, she relents, her body shuddering as she breaks down in sobs. “She was still wearing her red shirt and that little skirt, and her one earring.”
I stroke Emery’s hair as I listen.
“I should have made Holly go home that night. If I’d just called Jenny, none of this would be happening now!” Another wave of ratcheting sobs takes over.
I could tell her a hundred times that this isn’t on her, any more than it’s on me, but I know it’s pointless. So I collect her unsteady body and carry her upstairs to her bedroom, helping her out of her uniform.
She falls asleep in my arms.
But it’s a long time before I’m able to drift off.
I’m finishing up Biscuit’s stall when Duke announces his presence with a whine of greeting and then a sniff of my pant leg. “Hey, buddy.” I scratch his head as I watch Isla in the barn’s alleyway, her horse trailing behind her.
The hollowness in her eyes nearly guts me. I’ve seen that look before.
On Emery, the day of my sentencing.
“Hey, kid.”
“Hey.” It’s a dull, lifeless greeting.
“His stall’s already done.” I wasn’t sure if she was going to make it this morning. She came home from Dillon’s two days ago but hasn’t left her room since.
Isla wanders over to the tack room to collect grooming tools, a mumbled thanks slipping out on her way past.
I pat a patiently waiting Copper’s muzzle. “You going to school?”
Isla shakes her head. “All the work is posted online, anyway.”
That’s probably smart. Holly’s picture is all over the news again, only now the headlines have replaced missing with homicide. It’s all anyone is talking about.
Isla drags the comb over Biscuit’s coat, her movements slow and mechanical.
Her horse responds with a whickering sound before turning his head to nuzzle her cheek, offering her comfort.
She buries her face against him, and a sniffle sounds.
Then another.
My chest constricts as I watch Isla suffer, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to help.
There are no words to make any of this easier.
I know that better than most. “For what it’s worth, it won’t always feel like this.
It’ll take a while, but eventually, you’ll wake up hurting a little less every day.
I promise. You just have to get through this part.
” Even after what Jay did, I still think about him, my mind snagging on the good memories that didn’t reconcile with one terrible one.
Of course, it’s worse for Isla because there is no way to rationalize this; there is no world where Holly deserved what happened to her.
Isla peels away from Biscuit and falls against me, a slight, trembling figure seeking comfort.
I falter, tensing at the security this child—Emery’s child—unexpectedly seeks in me, but then wrap my arms around her, enveloping her in a hug.