Chapter 49
BAILEY
Reed rises from the chair, and I know—I know—he’s going to kill me.
I can see the hurt painted in his eyes and the anger splattered all over his face along with my spit.
I’ve bathed him in my rage. I’ve lied to him, used him, and manipulated him just like he’s done to so many others.
I’ve taken everything from him: his money, his pride, his trust, his heart.
His child.
But that isn’t why he’s about to shoot me.
No, he’ll do that because I broke him. Any hope he has of living a normal life is gone.
Even if it’s not in jail, he’ll spend the rest of his days isolated and alone.
He’ll never be able to trust anyone after this, never be able to give his heart to someone else—not in the same way he gave it to me.
That’s what I’ve taken from him. It’s exactly what I wanted.
So why do I feel so empty inside?
Because it won’t bring them back.
The thought burns. It’s a truth I’ve buried for so long now.
This revenge of mine—this crusade against Reed—has always been a way for me to keep from letting go of my family.
To make it feel like they mattered. To keep their memory alive—if only for a time.
Because I can already feel them fading away a little more every day, their edges dulling, their faces blurring like the lines of a chalk drawing washed away in the rain.
It’s like I’m losing them all over again, but in a way that feels more permanent than before, one grain at a time.
I can no longer clearly picture the perfect curve of Ethan’s smile or hear the bright chime of Noah’s laugh.
I can’t recall the soft weight of my son as I wrap him in a morning hug or feel the heat of Ethan’s palm against mine when he takes my hand.
Their smells, their touch, the way they so effortlessly filled the small spaces around me, all of it gone.
Since the wreck, my grief had only grown steadily deeper and ever wider.
Grief like tar forever pressing in, choking me until I could no longer breathe.
Grief without end. And then I found out about Reed.
And in that moment, when Paula first spoke his name, I was finally able to feel something other than grief: Hate.
Hate has carried me for so long now. Hatred is why I’m still alive. And hatred is why I’m going to die.
Reed stands in front of me looking like a zombie, his eyes two empty holes, his face all but drained of life. It’s like I’ve sucked his soul from his body and spit it on the floor. The gun twitches in his hand and I flinch. I can’t help it. I drop my head and wait for him to pull the trigger.
Do it. Get it over with.
I want him to. I’ll finally be free. From the hurt. From the pain.
From the memories of that day that will forever burn through my mind.
But the barrel of the gun doesn’t rise. Reed takes no forward step, makes no sudden movement. Instead, he rotates and heads toward the kitchen, snatches something from the counter, and returns with a ring of keys.
“You’re right. I’ve hurt a lot of people,” he says.
“For a long time, I didn’t regret my actions.
I had my reasons, or at least I thought I did.
I told myself the women I targeted deserved it.
That all changed with Evelyn. I knew she was different.
I knew from the beginning. I could have stopped at any time.
And I should have. I wanted to. But I didn’t.
I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to her.
It hurts. I think about it every day. What I did to you, though—that hurts even more. ”
He looks away and closes his eyes, like whatever he’s about to say next will come with a chunk of his heart.
“I … saw your family that day. After the wreck. I saw what I did to them. To you. I could have stopped then. But I didn’t.
I ran. It’s what I’ve always done. But no more.
” With that, he leans forward and fits a key into the cuffs, and I’m free.
Thoughts storm through my head.
Bolt.
Go for the gun.
Attack him.
But I do none of these things because there’s no time. Reed is already kneeling in front of me and handing me the pistol, pushing the grip into my palm. I take it, stunned, unable to understand what’s happening as he leans in and presses his forehead against the barrel. “Do it.”
Flickers of Noah whoosh through my head.
His dinosaur-themed birthday party, Noah flashing me a gap-toothed smile after opening his present—a cheap, plastic race car that made him squeal with joy.
I love it! I love it! Another memory of him dashing through the house in a red cape as Superman.
Me holding in a laugh and pretending to be in awe as he cocks his arms off his hips at the top of the stairs in a perfect super-hero pose.
Noah and I reading a book about astronauts together on the couch with his body so perfectly molded to mine, as if I was created only for this moment, for him, as we talk about the stars.
Do you think anyone lives up there, Mommy? Could I?
A billow of heat fills my chest, and it’s Ethan I see now.
My husband-to-be casting me a shy smile over a plate of pasta on our first date.
He’s all bluster and nerves as he laughs and knocks over his glass of water.
He’s flaming cheeks and apologies. He’s so beautiful in this moment.
Dimples that look like crescent moons. Eyes that are light brown and free and always return to me.
Every time they do, they are full of love.
On a trip to Stevens Pass, Ethan smiling as he teaches me to ski with snow fluttering down around us like cotton.
As we kayak in Seacrest Park with the sun spraying the Seattle skyline a soft yellow orange.
On our wedding day, the two of us promising each other our forevers, Ethan never dropping his gaze once.
And all the times that come after. The highs and the lows.
The stupid fights and tearful reconciliations. Every single moment filled with love.
Always with love.
More memories hit: Noah’s first steps as Ethan and I laugh and clap and cheer him on.
Our weekend trips to the beach with the three of us looking for shells beneath the waves.
Saturday afternoons spent at the movies staining our fingers yellow with popcorn.
The way Noah’s laugh bubbles from his throat when tickled.
It’s a sound I’d give anything to hear again.
Anything. A sound forever taken by the man kneeling in front of me now.
Beads of sweat erupt along the nape of my neck. My hands shake and tremble. Hate spills down my arms like fire. My lungs boil and char. I want to force all of the heat from my body into Reed’s. I want him to ignite and burn and turn into a lazy spiral of ash.
My finger wraps around the trigger.
My palms go slick against the grip.
The gun shakes. All I have to do is squeeze and Reed will be erased from this world.
A quick pull of the trigger, and the man who stole everything from me will be gone.
Reed, who I lied to, because there were moments our relationship was real.
These split-second slivers of time when I lost myself in his smile or the way the sound of his laugh filled the room before the memories of Ethan and Noah would come howling back like a storm, and I’d remember exactly why I was there.
“Do it!” he says again, louder, his voice breaking.
I blink, and he comes back into focus. His thick, brown hair. His pale skin. The silent tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. Eyes that, like Ethan’s, have never looked at me with anything but love.
Stop it! I hiss into my boiling brain. He killed your family! He destroyed your life!
His palm slides over the back of my hand, Reed nodding now, speaking. “It’s okay. Let me give you this.”
A buzz fills my skull. A sound like a saw biting into wood. A bright metallic whine.
The pressure in my finger tightens. Just a millimeter more.
A final squeeze and he’ll be gone.
It won’t bring them back. It won’t change anything.
A wail claws up my throat. I lift my gaze toward the ceiling.
The sound that pours from my lungs is alien—a voice I don’t recognize as my own.
Tears pour down my cheeks. I grind my jaw so hard, it feels like my teeth will crack.
Reed and I are two ships tethered together in the same storm.
Waves rise and crash down all around us.
We boom together and come apart in a fury of metal and wood.
Destroying this man has been my purpose for so long now; it feels like all I’ve ever known.
It. Won’t. Bring. Them. Back.
The hole in my chest widens and I know if I pull the trigger, if I kill him, it will swallow me too.
The gun slides from my hand and thuds to the floor.
I slump back into the chair. And I cry.
I sob so hard it feels like blood is pouring down my face in the place of tears.
I shake until I’m about to come apart. Somewhere in front of me a shadow forms as Reed rises.
How long he remains there, I’m not sure, I know only that at some point, I manage to stand, grab the car keys, and rush out the front door.