Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Miles
“Why are you doing this to yourself? Do you… do you still love her?” Erin asks the question I’ve been asking myself for years.
And finally, I have the answer.
“Aly?”
“Yeah.”
“I will always love her; she was my wife. She gave me the most beautiful gift I could have ever imagined. But it’s over between us.”
“So, you’re not hoping to be with her again? Restart your life together when she’s better, get remarried when she gets out?”
I don’t know how I got so lucky to have Erin as my friend. I adore my sister, but Erin is like the big sister I didn’t have. She doesn’t hold back. Doesn’t take sides. Doesn’t shy away from difficult discussions.
“No, Erin. Aly’s not going to get better. And I can’t. There’s no way I can ever forget what she did. I will never be able to look at her and not see the bloody knife clutched in her hand. I will never not see my daughter’s lifeless body lying in her bassinet. I can forgive Aly in a way because of how sick she was— is . I missed the signs?—”
Erin cuts me off midsentence. “So did the doctors.”
Ryan’s said the same thing to me. Not just once. He says it every time we talk. Every single time.
“I know. But as sad—as mad as I am, I own that I could’ve done more. I should have. And while I’m willing to entertain forgiveness, I can’t forget. And I can’t see her anymore. The best I can do is make sure she’s taken care of and that she has access to the help she needs and isn’t just locked up with murderers and drug addicts. Deliberation didn’t take long, and sentencing was even faster. I’m glad she’s in an institution—her new place should be a good fit for her—but I have to walk away. This was good-bye. One hundred percent good-bye.”
My long stride eats up the distance between security and my gate. I’m seven hours away from my future. A flight away from a family that I feel like I’m a part of.
Chloe and Jake are perfect, solid. I’m not afraid of hard work, dirty diapers, or sleepless nights. I’m not afraid of babies or kids, tweens or teenagers. Parenting doesn’t scare me any more than the next guy just because of what I’ve gone through. I think it’s life’s greatest adventure, and I want to climb on to that roller coaster and live it with them.
“Erin, my flight’s boarding. I’ve got to let you go. Just… don’t expect me to come into work tomorrow. I have something I have to do.” There’s no doubt in my mind that she can hear the smile in my voice. The stress and strain melting off of my shoulders.
“I’ll see you in a couple of days. Fly safe.” She ends the call.
For the first time in two years, I feel good. Really, honestly good.
I jog the last few yards to the gate, and the attendant smiles broadly as I step up and scan my boarding pass.
“Enjoy your flight, Mr. Kent.”
I thank her and walk down the jetway, pulling the strap of my bag over my head, a line of wrinkles creasing my shirt across my chest.
My flight is not at all full, and a little over halfway back, there’s a completely empty row. Not a soul on either side of the aisle and plenty of space overhead for my bag. I pull my noise-canceling headphones free, stow the bag above my seat, and settle in by the window.
While I still have a hot minute, I tap out a text to Chloe. I doubt she’s available, but I want her to know I’m thinking of her.
Miles: I’ll be home tonight.
I fasten my seat belt and slide my big headphones over my ears, the sounds of the announcements fading away to nothing. I scroll through my playlist, selecting one that I use for relaxation, meditation, whatever it’s called. I’m about to switch to Airplane mode when a reply pops up on my screen.
Chloe: I can’t wait to see you.
A stupid big smile stretches across my face. I type out a quick I love you , and my thumb hovers over the Send button. Should I? Should I wait?
The flight attendant stops in the aisle next to my row.
I pull back one side of my headphones, so I don’t speak too loudly. “Got it. Airplane mode.” I tap the icon on the screen and turn it for her to see.
And then I close my eyes, allowing the peaceful feeling of a job well done, my task complete, to wash over me. The plane propels forward down the runway, pushing me deep into my seat, and California drops away.
The quiet shift and collective waking of the passengers on the plane pull me out of the sleep of the dead.
“Sir, we’re on our final approach to Norfolk. I need you to face forward and fasten your seat belt, please,” the attendant says softly.
With slow, stiff movements, I drag my leg off the seat next to me and turn myself in the seat. My knees are wedged into the back of the seat in front of me, my clothes are a wrinkled mess, and I want a toothbrush more than anything. But I feel amazing. On top of the world. Finally at peace.
I stretch my arms over my head, vertebrae shifting and popping. The only tension sitting in my neck and shoulders is from sleeping in a funky position, and even that’s not bad. On missions, I caught Z s in less comfortable places for sure.
The attendant comes through the cabin again, her bag out, collecting trash. I slept through the entire flight. A full seven hours.
The only other time that happens is when I’m wrapped around Chloe, her tucked into my chest and my arm locked securely around her waist. There’s no soft, sleepy wake-up though. She tends to jump from the bed, panicked and throwing clothes at me as she pulls on whatever she’s got close. Then, she ushers me down the hall, still trying to keep our sleepovers from Jake.
I wanted to laugh the first time she shoved me into the guest room across the hall from Jake’s room, intent on hiding the fact that I’d spent the night. Even bleary-eyed with sleep, stumbling to the bathroom, Jake noticed me and that the guest bed hadn’t been slept in. He even backed up a couple steps and rubbed his eyes, taking in the perfectly placed mountain of throw pillows.
The kid is way smarter than Chloe wants to admit. Knew all the mechanics of sex when I finally bit the bullet and took him out to have the talk . Someone had to make sure he knew what was going on, and Chloe flat-out told me she was ostriching hard on that one—head in the sand in full avoidance mode.
But he knew. Knew about girls and sure as hell knew that I hadn’t crawled sleepily into the guest room after staying up late to finish a movie, like Chloe had told him. Her stuttering and nerves alone would have clued him in if he needed the extra push.
The whine of the engines shifts, the captain mumbles his unintelligible spiel through the speakers, and then the tires squeal against the tarmac.
I’m home.
My mind races with all the things I want to say, all the things I want to do. I slide to the aisle seat, headphones in hand, my thumb tapping against the hard plastic. As soon as the plane is at the gate, I’m up and out of my seat snagging my bag. Headphones tucked away, I throw the strap of my duffel across my chest and wrap an arm around it, holding it close.
I nod to the attendants, thank the captain, and hit the ground, moving out with a purpose. It’s on the shuttle halfway to long-term parking before I remember to take my phone off Airplane mode. I bounce the black plastic case against my thigh, debating on giving Chloe a heads-up on my plans for her tonight, to see if I need to pick anything up on my way over.
Still weighing the pros and cons, I step out of the shuttle and make the short walk to my truck—not Maggie. She’s not one I’d leave unattended in the airport parking lot for a week. I throw my bag in the backseat and climb behind the wheel, rolling the windows down to let the cool night air in. My phone connects to Bluetooth and immediately rings with a call.
“Ryan? What’s going on?” I pull through the toll lane and swipe my card to pay for parking.
In no way could I ever suspect, let alone prepare for, what’s about to hit me.
“Miles, I don’t know how to tell you this. There aren’t words to express how sorry?—”
Training takes over, pushing emotion aside, and I steer my vehicle to the shoulder and hit the hazard lights. Whatever Ryan needs to tell me, I need to focus. “What happened?” I demand, voice steady and low.
Ryan hesitates and stutters, something I’ve never heard the man do in all the time I’ve known him. “Aly… The staff, they…”
“Ryan, spit it out. Tell me what happened.”
I glance at the clock on my dash, the numbers glowing against the faded light of streetlamps filtering into the cab. It’s about dinnertime in California. Aly should be settling in at her new long-term-care facility. I’m sure the stress of the past week, the disruption to her routine, the change in her environment have been difficult for her.
“She’s gone. The staff went into her room to get her for dinner, and she was unresponsive. She?—”
My heart slams in my chest. “She what?”
“She took her life,” he says, the words barely audible above the rushing of blood through my ears.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I yell. “How? How the fuck does a gravely ill, fragile fucking person on suicide watch complete that fucking task?”
“She left a letter for you.”
“Fuck that, I don’t want it.”
“Hold on,” Ryan says, the sounds of papers shifting and the squeak of an office chair filter through the phone.
“After everything I did, everything we worked for to keep her safe, out of prison, to get her the help she needed, she fucking killed herself. She fucking… What? Took the easy way out?” Nothing about this is easy.
He forges ahead, reading her final words to me, “ ‘I’m so sorry. Not being in my right mind at the time is no excuse for what I did. I took the life we created. Killed our baby. I can’t live with myself. I can’t live with what I did to us. Please, Miles, if you ever loved me, let me go. Just let me go.’ ”
“Ryan—”
“She was sick, Miles. Her judgment was so warped that there was no sense of reality. So broken that she couldn’t process right from wrong, didn’t get the consequences of her actions.”
“That’s why I fought so hard. That’s why I did everything I could to absolutely do right by her, to make sure she was safe, that she got treatment instead of just being locked away for the rest of her life—or worse, released back into the world where she could hurt someone again. And, I still failed. Not even my best was good enough.”
“I assure you, there will be a full investigation into this. We will find where the breakdown was, and the responsible person will be held accountable.” Conviction rings through Ryan’s words.
His speech is lovely. Heartfelt and award-winning. But the fact is, it doesn’t even matter.
What was it I said to Jason about this? That I thought there was some lesson I was supposed to learn from this? I don’t see a lesson. There is nothing to indicate that education, advancement, understanding, or adaptation is happening in any way from this shit.
The only thing getting hammered into me—yet again—is that I don’t deserve the privilege of caring for others.
My heart burst with pride the day I held my daughter in my arms, thrilled that she had come a little early, as eager to meet me as I was to meet her before my team’s next mission launched.
My heart seized when the coppery scent of blood slapped me into a new reality as I stepped through the door to find Aly catatonic, clutching a bloody butcher knife.
My heart was ripped to shreds when, at the end of the blood trail, I saw my baby girl, lifeless in her bassinet.
Now, all that’s left is anger.
“I’ve got to go, Ryan. Thank you for everything you’ve done to try and help. I appreciate it. I’m sure Aly’s family appreciates it.”
“I’ll let you know what they uncover. Miles, I’m so sorry.” And he is. It’s evident, but I just can’t do this anymore.
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.” I put my truck in gear and slam on the gas, throwing my phone across the cab. It sails through the open window, bouncing before the wheels of a semi send it to its grave.
I drive straight to my apartment. Leaving my bag in the truck, I go inside. It’s dark, and the air is stale. I don’t bother with any lights. I go directly to my liquor cabinet and turn a full bottle of whiskey upright. The burn is a welcome punishment as I swallow down gulp after gulp.
By the time the whiskey is nothing but a dribble of backwash in the bottom of the bottle, my heart is finally numb.