Edges of Gone (The Gone Series Book 2)

by Jessica Gouin

  Only a few patrons occupy a table nearby.

  “Patio?” Nash tilts his head towards the doorway.

  I nod, and he leads me to the opening at the back. We’re the only people on the quiet patio. We sit on pale-green plastic chairs at a wooden table, and a moment later, a waitress places a menu in front of me.

  “Your usual, Officer Hudson?” She gives him a sexy grin.

  It would be impossible for me to not notice his looks, but this girl all but drools on him. His features remind me of Owen’s—dirty-blonde hair, blue eyes, a day’s worth of scruff on his face. Despite his outward roughness, Nash comes across softer, lighter somehow. Maybe I’m being biased because Owen and I have been so distant lately.

  He nods at the waitress then looks toward me. “Yeah, Tiff, that’d be great. But, she’ll need a minute.”

  I slide the menu toward the girl. “Bacon cheeseburger no onions, potato skins, and a corona.” I smile at her. “With a lime wedge, please.”

  Her eyebrows rise in surprise as if she’d expected me to order something else. She takes the menu from the table, smiling politely. “I’ll put your order in right away guys.”

  “Could you put a rush on it, Tiff? She has to get back to work in thirty minutes.”

  “Of course, no problem.”

  We thank her, and she disappears inside the pub. I pull my cell phone from the front pocket of my purse to check if there are any missed calls. I debate on sending a text message to Owen to tell him I went out for lunch in case he pops by the shop. I’m not even really sure how I would explain why I’m at lunch with Officer Hudson because, to be honest, I don’t know how we got here. Deciding against texting him, I shove the phone back and toss my purse in the empty chair beside me. Owen didn’t support me reopening the shop anyway, so I doubt he would stop by today.

  I peek up to find Nash staring at me, mouth opened. “Unbelievable.”

  “What? What did I do?” I pull at the ends of my sweater sleeves and wiggle out of it, hanging it over the back of my chair.

  “That’s the exact same thing I order when I come here. Which is like twice a week.”

  My gaze flickers past him in search of the waitress for some kind of clue he’s joking. She’s still out of sight though. “Shut up.”

  He laughs and leans back, crossing his arms. “I’m dead serious. Exact order.”

  I didn’t order anything too crazy but still find it strange. “Bacon cheeseburger, no onions?”

  “Yep.”

  “Potato skins?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  The waitress suddenly appears and places two coronas with limes on the square coasters. I laugh as we both grab our beers, squeeze the lime, and push it down the neck of the bottle. Nash arches an eyebrow as we both place our thumbs inside and slowly turn it a few times then letting out with a suctioned popping sound.

  He laughs harder as he sucks on his fingers. I grab a napkin and wipe beer off my skin.

  “I knew you weren’t a small salad and diet soda kinda girl.”

  After swallowing a mouthful of beer, which tastes like something sent from the heavens above, I smile at him. “I definitely don’t eat like a rabbit.”

  Does my double-digit waistline give me away? I’ve never been a slender girl, even as a child or teenager. My mom calls me a tad thick. Owen calls me perfect. Sawyer always said she was jealous of my curves where she was the skinny one I’d been jealous of. Funny how the grass is always greener when it comes to girls’ appearances.

  Nash swipes his bottle from the table and takes a long pull while he gaze remains locked on me.

  This should be strange.

  The comfort level between us should be freaky, but it’s not. This is exactly what I craved today. A friendly person who treats me like Sloane, not like Sloane, the Girl Who Lost Her Best Friend and Doesn’t Know How to Live Her Life Now.

  “So, it’s your day off I take it?”

  “No, I’m undercover right now.”

  “Oh my god, really?” I can’t stop myself from scanning the street to my left as though I’ll be able to spot an inconspicuous catering van.

  “No.”

  The laughter from the both of us has a few people walking down the street glancing our way. A few minutes later, our food comes, and, once the aroma hits my nose, I’m stricken with hunger pains.

  “How’s your husband doing? And the little boy and his father?”

  The question takes me off guard, and, once again, I’m launched back into the victim role. “As good as they can be in our situation, I suppose.”

  “I’ve seen a lot of shit in my line of work. Trust me when I say I know the outlook is bleak right now, but it will be better one day. For all of you. I promise.”

  The hope gracing his face cuts through me like a sharp knife, lacerating my core, and I bleed.

  “I doubt it.”

  EIGHT

  Owen

  Lachlan sticks the key in the front door of his new home, a moment that should be a happy occasion, complete with cork popping of champagne and housewarming parties. When he bought this house a month ago, I doubt he pictured moving day like this.

  Sloane and I offered to help Lachlan and Noah move in all of their things. His aunt and uncle will come later this afternoon to help them settle in. Apparently, they all kissed and made up. Bullshit if you ask me, but of course no one did.

  We enter into the foyer and glance around. Lachlan has seen this house a few times I think and has shown some pictures, but Sloane, Noah, and I enter the house in person for the first time. My gaze falls to Noah who seems at ease, like he’s already home. Pretty sure wherever his dad lives is where he wants to be, no matter where that leads them. I’ve never seen Noah take a liking to anyone else before the way he has to Lachlan, and it’s even stranger because, as a baby, he tended to shy away from men. I always joked with Sawyer that she brainwashed her son to hate men like she did. She’d always punch my arm for my comment.

  I drop the box with a bang. Hope there are no breakables in there. Everyone snaps out of their thoughts and stare at me. “I’m going to get more boxes.”

  Lachlan follows me out of the house, and we round the back of the moving truck. I reach in and grab another box, sliding it toward me.

  “You okay, mate?”

  I really wish people would stop asking me if I’m okay. I’ll never be okay again, so just assume my answer will always be no. “Right as rain, man.”

  “You don’t have to do that with me.”

  “Do what?”

  “Pretend. You don’t have to put on an act for my sake. I’m going through the same shit you are.”

  I stare at him then glance at the new house then at the moving truck in front of us. Seems like he’s coping all right. “Doesn’t look like it.”

  With more force than necessary, I grab the box, stack it onto the neighboring one, and take them both inside his new place.

  The truck has been emptied of the larger items, boxes, and furniture. There really wasn’t a whole lot to move from Sawyer and Noah’s home. Sloane went through all of my sister’s personal things, kept some things that hold meaning for her, and stored a few large totes in our basement—right next to the wardrobe housing Sloane’s ruined wedding dress. She still doesn’t think I know it’s down there and that she cries every time she does a load of laundry. Why she’s keeping a reminder of that day is unclear to me. I’m sure she has her reasons, but I don’t understand any of them.

  Upstairs, Noah unpacks his toys in his new room. Since Sloane made herself useful and started unpacking Lachlan’s shit in the living room—which I never agreed to—I stay in the kitchen, loading the fridge and cupboards.

  I wish I could find a radio or something to drown out their conversation. Much to my dismay, I hear every fucking word between Lachlan and Sloane. I’m tempted to interrupt social hour and demand to know why Sloane was sitting on the patio of the pub down the street from her shop, having a meal with some guy last
week. She still has no idea I saw her when I went to visit her. I wanted to apologize for giving her hell about reopening. I’d planned to take her for lunch in hopes it would make her first day back a bit better, but someone had already beat me to it.

  I planned on asking her when she got home that night, but she looked exhausted, and, frankly, I didn’t feel like talking anyway after being angry all day. The more time passed, the more I thought maybe I just imagined the entire thing and it really hadn’t been her, just someone who looked a lot like her. Sloane would never fool around on me. I’d be crazy to even have that thought cross my mind.

  “I’m glad you were able to spend time with your aunt and uncle,” Sloane says to Lachlan. “I bet they fell in love with Noah the second they opened the door. Every person who meets him falls in love immediately. It’s the big eyes.”

  “Oh did they ever. I’ve never seen my aunt gush around a child before. She exposed a whole other side to her during our visit. I really dreaded going there. I didn’t know how I’d feel when I saw them after everything that’s happened. It was definitely less uncomfortable then I thought it’d be, that’s for sure. It’s easier to forgive someone when you need them in your life.”

  “I’m really glad you decided to go. I bet it’s a relief to rid yourself of some of that anger you carried. Did umm…did Noah speak while you were there?”

  I stop moving because I want to catch Lachlan’s answer. I don’t hear anything from him, but Sloane sighs, so I assume he shook his head.

  My shoulders slump. That little boy upstairs is killing me. As adults, the rest of us have the ability to attempt to understand what happened, try to make sense of it all, and, even still, we’re having a hard time. The thoughts and images that run through Noah’s mind must be terrifying for a child to deal with. Does he even understand death means he won’t be able to physically see his mom anymore? When that asshole pulled out a gun, did Noah think it was a toy? Did his heart begin to race?

  We don’t know any of this because he won’t speak. To anyone.

  “He’s just dealing with all of this in his own way, Lach.”

  Sloane comforts him, trying to put him back together. That’s what she does. She fixes people. That’s what I thought the first time Sawyer brought Sloane into our home.

  Sloane was the only friend either of us ever brought around. She came from a great home, had a joyful childhood, and no issues with her parents who were still together. Her father’s a pillar in the Woodsview community. Sloane grew up an only child, and while no one would call her spoiled, she sure as shit hasn’t been neglected either.

  For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why she’d want to hang out with someone like my sister. Sawyer is…was an amazing person, but you had to really gain her trust to be let in. A small part of me thought Sloane wanted to fix me, too. But as much as she tries to make life easier, better, she never tries to change a person into anything they don’t want to be. She simply gives a nudge to be a better person. She seals small cracks without even knowing it.

  “I understand he’s dealing with it on his own. I really do. I just pray to God he knows I’m here for him when he’s ready. I tried to explain I’m his father and what it means for us. He just stared at me, nodding. How much of that does he get? I’d give anything to know.”

  A few minutes of silence follows, and it’s a nice break. I’m about to tell Sloane it’s time to leave, but she speaks to Lachlan just as I approach the room.

  “Are you lonely?”

  I shake my head. She needs to stay out of his damn emotions and quit trying to put us all back together again. We’re not a bunch of Humpty Dumptys.

  “I spent nearly seven years of my life fixated on Sawyer Matthews. First being when I met her in high school, then dreaming about her for the next six years. I got to see her as a woman. As a mother. That’s enough. I always knew deep down we were too bright, destined to burn out quickly. Now it’s time to focus on Noah. Sawyer definitely didn’t leave me empty-handed. He’s enough for me.”

  I can’t take this shit anymore. I clear my throat to get their attention. “Hey, I’m exhausted. You done with us, Lachlan?”

  Sloane looks bewildered, like I just offended her. “O, I thought we were going to help out a bit more. There’s still so much to do here.”

  Lachlan stands and crosses the room to me, claps my good shoulder. “No worries, mate. If you’re tired, I understand. Thanks for your help today.”

  Sloane huffs then reaches for her purse. “Exhausted because you stayed out all night.” She mumbles, but I hear every word. She thinks I won’t call her out on what she just said because someone else is in the room. Well, maybe before I would have cared about keeping the peace, but there’s a key word in there; before.

  “What did you just say?”

  She drops her purse on the floor and places her hands on her hips. “You want to do this here? Fine. I know where you go at night.”

  “What’d you do, follow me?”

  “No, I don’t have to. You clothes are damp and smell like grass when you come back home. It took a bit, but, eventually, I figured it out.”

  I notice Lachlan’s head pull back in confusion. “Sawyer’s grave?”

  My head snaps to him. “Yeah, my baby sister’s fucking gravesite. You do remember she died, don’t you?”

  “Excuse me?” His words hold heat. I’m pushing buttons I probably shouldn’t push. Again I’m in a tailspin I can’t control.

  “I’m just saying, you got Noah, you got this big ole new house. Not to mention all the money you inherited from your father when you left my sister at the time she needed you most. Yeah, she told me about that. But, hey, that’s enough for you, right? Your life doesn’t seem so tragic from where I’m standing. Have you even been to her grave since we put her in the goddamn ground?”

  “Jesus Christ, Owen!” Sloane screams. “What the hell are you thinking? Unlike you, we don’t live at Sawyer’s gravesite because we understand she’s gone. You’re so close yourself, and you can’t even see it! You have to let her go and stop pushing us away. We’re the ones that are still here with you!”

  “I can’t let her go! Don’t you fucking understand that?” There’s no holding back emotions now. My words attack my wife with such physical force she takes a step back. “It’s my fault she’s dead. Mine. I can’t just let her go. I had one job as her older brother. To protect her. I failed, and she died, and it’s my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault, Uncle Owen.”

  Silence falls in the room as we turn our heads. Noah stands at the bottom of the stairs, stuffed frog in one hand, holding the railing with the other.

  He spoke.

  Lachlan closes the space between him and his son and bends eye level. “Buddy, you spoke.”

  “It’s not Uncle Owen’s fault. It was that man.”

  Lachlan looks at both Sloane and me then returns his attention to Noah. “What man, Noah?”

  “Momma called him Drew. She said it was okay because he was a friend. Then he tried to hurt me, but momma stopped him.”

  Sloane covers her sobs with her hand while Lachlan pulls Noah to his chest.

  It was Drew.

  It was Drew?

  When did he get out of prison, and how the fuck did he know where she was that night? My mind races for triggered memories. I would have recognized him if I’d seen his mug at my wedding. The man who walked passed us, now that I recall, was just about his size. Maybe a bit bulkier.

  I take a step toward my nephew. “Noah, are you sure that was his name? Momma called him Drew?”

  He nods behind his father’s embrace.

  Lachlan kisses Noah’s forehead then stands and turns to Sloane and me. “Let’s go. Right now. We have to go to the police and tell them what Noah just said.”

  Sloane moves to grab her purse, and Lachlan puts his shoes on in record time.

  “No.” My one word stills them immediately.

  “Owen?”r />
  “No,” I repeat. “We know who’s responsible for Sawyer’s death, and you’re crazy if you think I’m going to turn him over to the police and trust the justice system. He was supposed to stay locked up before, and if he got out once, he’ll get out again.”

  “Not for this,” Lachlan seethes. “This is murder. We have an eyewitness.”

  “Sloane, will you take Noah upstairs for a minute?” The rest of this conversation shouldn’t be held within earshot of a five-year-old child who’s already scarred enough for one lifetime.

  Sloane crosses the room, eyes bloodshot, limbs visibly shaky. “Come on, baby. Show me where you put all your toys in your new room.”

  Once they reach the top of the stairs, I return my death glare to Lachlan. “What if he doesn’t get convicted? What if he walks, knowing someone was an eyewitness? He could come after Noah. You know just as well as I do this guy’s a fucking nutcase. He deserves to pay for what he did to my sister, and I’m going to be the one to bring justice down on him, not the law.”

  Lachlan takes a few slow steps toward me like I’m the one who’s irrational. “Okay, so you’re going to bring him to justice. Then what? Uncle Owen goes to jail for murder, and Noah has less family because of it. Sloane loses her best friend and her husband. Think about this for a minute. They need you right now. More than they ever have. When Noah was around my aunt and uncle, he lit up. He didn’t even need to speak. He felt safe around them. I know he did. You can’t do this to him, Owen.”