Epilogue
Jenna
One year later…
I stare at the farm ledger, trying to make sense of Calvin’s most recent expenses. Why did he buy so many new chainsaws? I’m mid-highlight as a reminder to ask him, when the door slams open and Molly barrels in.
Her hair is blue at the ends now, a new rebellion since last week. She flops onto the corner of the desk with a sigh, scattering half the paperwork to the floor. She doesn’t even acknowledge it.
“Emergency,” she says, but she’s grinning.
I arch an eyebrow. “Did you break another chainsaw? Because if so, no big deal. Your dad just bought like four of them.”
She makes a face as she glances down at the ledger. “They were probably on sale. But it’s not about my dad and his saw fetish. It’s about my mom.”
I lean back, all of a sudden wary. There are emergencies, and then there are ex-wife emergencies, and I’m not sure which is more hazardous to my health. Maren usually keeps to herself, but also… She still scares me somedays.
“She’s dating again.” Molly says this with the practiced melodrama. “And I actually like this one. He’s…nice.”
“Nice?” I echo. “But not the hit over the head with a lamp sort of nice?”
“No, the real kind of nice.” She bursts into a laugh, curling her lip. “He helps with dinner, and he listens to finance podcasts instead of sports, and he talks to me like I’m a grown ass adult—oh, and never talks about Dad.”
I have to laugh. “But he’s not a serial killer, right?”
“Nah, I only need one of those kinds of men in my life.” Molly shrugs, but her eyes flick up to mine—almost sheepish, which is how I know she’s serious. “Seriously though, he’s cool, Jen. Like, actually cool. I wanted to hate him, but I can’t.”
I let that sit for a second, then smile. “Should I send flowers to your mom as a congrats then? Or an edible arrangement of, like, ibuprofen and therapy coupons for him, since this family has a way of scarring people?”
She laughs. “Do both. Send them to her work. Make it weird.”
I shake my head, and then let out a laugh. “So what’s the actual emergency?” I ask, even though I know she just wanted an excuse to break up my morning.
She crosses her legs, picks at the new rip in her jeans. “Dad doesn’t know. I wanted you to hear it first so you could, like, prep him. You know, since the last one ended up in the river.” There’s a flicker of something in her expression, but it dies quickly.
She got that from her father. Of that, I am certain.
“Just forewarn him, because she wants a dinner.”
“I’ll put it in the afternoon briefing,” I laugh. “Maybe print him a pamphlet about healthy co-parenting.”
She cackles at that, and then the silence settles—a soft one, not awkward at all. I go back to the applications, and she watches, swinging her foot in time with the clock on the wall.
“You know,” she says after a minute, “You’re like, really good at this.”
I snort. “At what? Babysitting functional adults?”
She shakes her head. “No, like… this. Running stuff for Dad. He’s so much less…rigid now.”
I feel heat crawl up my neck. “Thanks, but don’t let him hear you say that,” I mutter. “He’ll start assigning me more shifts or something.”
She grins. “You’d love it. Admit it.”
“Not a chance.”
She leans back, propping herself up on her elbows. “You got any plans for tonight?”
I glance at the family calendar tacked to the corkboard—Sharpie appointments, Molly’s debate meets, Bradford’s cryptic work trips highlighted in a color only I use. “Not unless you count signing off on payroll. Why?”
She tries to look casual, and then totally fails at it. “Maybe I want to invite someone over for dinner.”
“Your mom’s boyfriend?”
She rolls her eyes. “No. Mine.”
“Oh,” I say, because my brain short-circuits at the idea of Molly—tiny, angry Molly—having a boyfriend. “Does your dad know? Because maybe dropping two boyfriends on him is a lot…”
She shakes her head. “Not yet. I kind of want to keep his kneecaps unbroken for at least one semester.”
I stifle a grin. “Cal is not that bad.”
“He’s a nightmare,” she says, but there’s no heat to it. “But you make him better.”
“I run interference,” I huff. “But you have to give me details. Name, hobbies, any priors. You know, for the inevitable background check.”
She giggles, pure mischief. “Deal.”
We lock eyes, and for a second I feel that weird, motherly nuance toward her. It’s taken time, given the fact I had to come to clean to her about everything, but Molly is well, her father’s daughter. And she understood.
And she won that essay contest.
Before I can pick more at the boyfriend topic, the door swings open behind us, and Bradford’s presence floods the room like a tide. He’s got snow in his beard and a streak of blue paint down one sleeve, but he’s smiling in that way that means he’s about to say something devastating.
“Is this a staff meeting,” he says, “Or are you two just plotting my demise?”
Molly grins wider. “Maybe both.”
I roll my eyes. “Depends. Are you bringing food tonight, or should I defrost something tragic?”
He shrugs. “I’ll cook. Turner and Em are coming by, too. They said to tell you hello.” He looks at Molly, his gaze softening a fraction. “You got plans, kid?”
Molly hops off the desk. “Might. Depends if Jen’s side piece can make it. He works in finance.”
The look on Bradford’s face is priceless—a slow-burn confusion, then suspicion, then a grudging admiration for the sheer audacity. He glances at me.
“I thought you only dated criminals and professors.”
I arch a brow. “Turns out I’m expanding my horizons.”
“Of course,” he snorts, and then gestures to Molly. “I need a word with Jen alone for a minute.”
Molly eyes him, and then me. “I was kidding, you know that, right?”
“Yes, I know,” Calvin chuckles. “But seriously. I need a minute with my wife.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Molly huffs and then heads for the door. “I have to get to class anyway.” As soon as she’s out of earshot, he crosses the room.
“I love you,” he murmurs, and gives me a kiss.
But it’s not the norm. It’s off.
“Love you, but,” I brace, “Tell me what’s up.”
He’s quiet for a minute, then shifts. “I got a call this morning.”
I wait for him to continue. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that he’ll get there eventually.
He studies his hands, fingers flexing. “It was Ben Knight.”
The name hits like a slap, but I don’t react. I just nod, lips pressed together.
“He’s paranoid. He swears there’s someone watching him. He thinks he’s been bugged and followed. I told they’re probably picking up on his extracurriculars… But you and I both know the truth…” He trails off, and I know exactly what he means.
“The dead don’t always stay that way, do they?”
Calvin exhales. “Not when they want revenge.”