by Vi Carter
I glance at him, and his moss-green eyes have softened. “More beautiful now that you are standing in it.”
His words warm my heart. He has no idea how he turns me inside out. I want to kiss him—but if I start—I won’t ever tell him what I need to say.
“There was this girl who spent most of her childhood holding ice packs to her mother’s swollen face, cleaning up broken plates and glasses. She held her mother as she cried with the pain from broken bones. Around and around it went, there was no end in sight.”
I take a breath and look up at Rian. He’s as still as a statue. I take another breath and continue.
“One night, as her father filled his gut with beer, the little girl waited until he finally fell asleep on the couch. Her mother was in the bath, holding a cold face-cloth to her bruised chest.” My voice wobbles, and I swallow quickly. Rian moves, and I hold a hand up until he stops.
“She left her father asleep on the couch and walked calmly into his room. She knew where he kept his gun. She picked it up with both hands. It was heavier than she had thought it would be, but still, she carried it back to the sitting room. The TV flickered across his face, he was fast asleep. He looked almost like a father who might hug his wife on occasion or leave his daughter green apples, but underneath the small gestures, there was nothing redeemable.”
My vision blurs, and I blink. Salty tears make a pathway down my face and into my mouth. “The little girl raised that gun and smiled. She knew she could end all the suffering. For once, she wasn’t going to be a coward.”
I lick my lips and look Rian in the eyes. “She pulled that trigger. Her aim was perfect. The noise was deafening, and she dropped the gun. There was so much blood.” I can still see him so clearly, and I remember feeling giddy. But my happiness only lasted for a moment. Her screams were like nothing I had heard before. She had raced from the bath, wrapped in a white towel. Initially, my gaze wouldn’t move up but focused on the pools of water around her feet. Slowly, I had looked up at my mother.
“The worst part of it all was when her mother entered the room.” I reach out now and grip the white chair because a crushing sensation has me closing my eyes.
“At times when the mother had taken a beating, and the little girl had cleaned her face, her eyes would be alive with hate that never died. She wore this look after the beatings, the look of someone knowing one day they would get their revenge.”
More tears pour, and I swallow them. “She had this ball of pain and anger…” I can’t explain the look she wore after my father beat her.
“But that day…” More pain crushes me, and I exhale loudly on a sob. “She had looked at me like I was a monster. My own mother was afraid of me.” I cover my face now with both hands, not wanting Rian to see this kind of pain.
I cry into my hands, and when I feel more under control, I look up at him. He hasn’t moved. I have no idea what he is thinking, but I don’t stop.
“We buried him in the back garden, and from that day on, I did everything she said because I couldn’t bear the way she looked at me. Sometimes she still does, and I hate myself for bringing so much pain into her life.”
Rian doesn’t speak, and my heart crashes around in my chest with the thought that telling him was a mistake.
“I had to do it,” I cry.
Rian moves for the first time; his steps are slow. “You did what she should have done.” He holds his head high, and for the first time, I see the pride shine in his eyes. “You protected your family.” He reaches for me. “You did what was necessary.” His hands touch my face, and I’m ready to sink.
“You are so brave.” He leans in, and my eyes flutter closed as he places a kiss on each eyelid before pressing a final one to my forehead.
“I just wish you didn’t have to suffer for it.”
I open my eyes, and this is the part that scares me the most. I shake my head that’s still in his hands. “I didn’t suffer, Rian. If I went back, I’d still pull that trigger. I have no regrets.” A sob cuts off my word.
“I just hate that I have no regrets. It’s not normal. I’m not normal, and I scare my own mother. I didn’t just lose a father that night—I lost my mother, too.” Tears stream down into my mouth.
“She hates me,” I say, drawing back my pain.
“She doesn’t understand what you did for her.” Rian holds my face tighter, making me focus on his green eyes again. “Thank you for telling me.”
“You make me feel safe and okay not to be not normal.”
His smile reaches his eyes. “Normal is boring. I don’t like boring.”
He leans in and kisses the tip of my nose. “I don’t ever want to see smiles and just the parts of you that you are proud of. I always want to see the parts you aren’t proud of. They are always the parts that are the most interesting.”
“I feel so invisible at times.” I drop his gaze as I let all the insecurities out.
“I see you, Willow. I always have.” Shivers assault my body at his words. “I love you.” I don’t think I could ever get used to those three words.
Rian’s phone rings loudly in his pocket. He doesn’t release my face.
“Answer it,” I tell him because from this moment forward, I have no idea what happens next.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
WILLOW
We return to the main house. Rian’s father said it was important for both of us to return immediately. The whole drive, Rian, holds my hand, and I let his warmth and the sense of happiness lull me into a false sense of safety that really doesn’t exist in my world. So many questions swim at the edge of my consciousness, like loose change in your pocket. It keeps rattling, and the only way to stop it is to wrap your fingers around the coins. Right now, I don’t want to touch those thoughts. They are too dark.
I sit up straight the moment we pull up to the house. I recognise the car in the drive—Detective Lacy’s.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go in.” My fear of him seeing that my hands aren’t clean assaults my system. I’m too raw right now, too open. I have no control over my emotions.
Rian’s laughter has me turning to him. “Don’t worry about Detective Lacy. I think he’s smart enough not to step on my toes.”
Rian pulls into the garage and turns off the ignition.
“And if he does step on your toes?” I ask.
“I’ll deal with him.” Rian turns to me and takes my face in his hands. I already fear everyone’s reaction seeing Rian and me together. I want to say something, but he does first.
“You and I can remain quiet until you’re ready, Willow. But if you want to walk in there holding my hand, I’m ready.”
I’m not.
Guilt churns in my stomach as I speak. ”I think it best we see what Detective Lacy wants.”
I can see the disappointment in Rian’s gaze. “If that’s what you want.”
The garage door opens, and my mother appears. Anger tightens her gaze and straightens her lips. I pull my face out of Rian’s hands. He easily lets me go.
I don’t have a second before she pulls my door open. “Get out.”
I don’t move, I don’t know if it's the sense of the army at my back or my confession to Rian, but I don’t feel like taking orders right now.
“I’ve had a really tough day, so I’m asking you nicely to not bark at me.”
My mother’s eyes widen, and she leans in and glares at Rian. “This is your doing.”
I feel exhausted already.
“I’d like to think so.” I can hear the humor in Rian’s voice.
“Detective Lacy is here for both of you.” She’s glaring at us as the garage door opens, and Henry walks in. I know it’s bad when I see the set of his jaw.
Rian gets out of the car, and so do I. I can’t hold my mother’s hardened gaze. It cuts too deep.
“Chad Michaels is dead,” Henry speaks calmly. “Detective Lacy is here to question both of you again.”
“He can talk to me.” Rian clos
es the car door. “Willow is tired and won’t be up to talking.”
Henry nods his head like the Detective would just accept it. I’m ready to argue when my mother grips my arm painfully. I’m ready to shake it off, but I give her this bit of control over me for now. I’m too tired to keep arguing.
We enter through the kitchen, and my mother directs me upstairs. I take a final glance at Rian as he enters the sitting room with Henry. He pauses and meets my eye. Rian winks at me before stepping into the room and disappearing. I feel like I should be going in there with him, too. This was mostly my fault. Chad would never have been on Rian’s radar if I hadn’t put him there.
“Come on, Willow.” My mother sounds drained as she marches to my room.
“What is it?” I ask. The moment we are in, I pull off my cardigan and undo the two top buttons of my shirt.
“What is it? I get a call from Father Cooney saying Rian attacked Luke, and you left.”
I take a step towards my mother and stop when something close to fear flares across her face. “You told Rian I was gone away with Luke.”
“Yes, so he would see you had moved on. I thought I was helping.”
“You weren’t, Mother. He was in a rage when he arrived at the cabin.”
My mother half laughs. “You almost sound like you’re blaming me.”
“I am. Why did you put the phone in my bag?”
My mother drops my gaze.
“What are you playing at?” I take another step.
Anger has her head snapping up to me. “How dare you question me when all I’ve ever done is keep you safe?”
“Safe?” I repeat the word.
“Yes, Willow. Safe. But right now.” She raises her hand up and down towards me. “I don’t recognize this person.”
A sadness is almost crushing my chest. “I do.” It’s the first time I recognize myself. My words are real. My feelings are real, and it feels like it’s time that I get to live too, not just exist in this vicious circle of uncertainty and fear.
“I don’t want to be afraid any more.” I plead with my words for her to understand.
“No one will find out.” Her voice has softened as she takes a step towards me. “As long as you keep all those emotions at bay.”
I shake my head. “I’m not afraid of someone finding out, Mother. I’m afraid of what keeping it in is doing to me. I can’t breathe. I always feel numb. I don’t feel human or alive most of the time. I never feel safe. I always feel like I’m on the brink of screaming.” I’m pleading with her to understand.
“You are so ungrateful. I gave up my life, my son, my husband, to protect—YOU! I built this life for YOU. I gave up sending you to prom. I never got to take my daughter shopping. I never got to listen to your romances, all to keep you safe. I never got to be a mother. I never got to have a daughter. I had to always have my guard up with you.” She’s brimming with anger at each sentence.
I can’t breathe with her anger. I didn’t know she harbored this much resentment towards me. I want to scream at her that I didn’t get to experience any of that either. Prom was something that only happened in movies. The thought that it was real, and I could have been participating in this life opens a hollowness inside me.
A knock at the door has both of us jumping apart. The door opens before I get to answer it. Rian’s gaze roams across me as if he is making sure I’m in one piece.
“Are you okay?” His voice is soft, and my stomach tightens when I see the love in his eyes. He has given me a form of peace and I can’t waste it this time.
“Yes.” I try to smile my gratitude at him.
“Get out.” My mother marches past me and grips the door. “I don’t want you near my daughter.”
“Why? Are you afraid that I might find out about the lies you fed my father?”
My heart drops into my shoes. I can’t see my mother’s face, but her hands shake behind the door. “What are you talking about?”
Rian looks at me, and I plead with my eyes. He leans into my mother. “Hurt her anymore and I’ll go straight to my father. You understand?”
“Hurt her?” My mother’s laughter is filled with bitterness. Whatever fear she had, passes quickly as she grips the door before she slams it in Rian’s face.
I jump as the door bangs loudly. I’ve never seen her so angry.
“Tell me, Willow. Are you happy?” Her words are growled. “I hope you are. At least one of us would be.” Tears fill her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” I need to take back the pain I’m causing. “I’m just tired and emotional.” I try to grip her arm.
She stands away from me. “I always felt I had to save you. So I let everything else go to do that.” Pain wraps itself around her words. She blinks and tears spill. “Your brother found your father’s body.”
The bed hits the back of my legs before I crumble onto it. “What?” I couldn't have heard her right.
My mother wipes at her face roughly. “Of course, he rang it in. I had told him your father left us, so you can imagine his pain when he came across his body.”
I’m shaking my head. “When was this?”
“Two weeks ago. The cops have opened a murder case. Your brother was beside himself.”
I can’t stop shaking my head. I want to peel off my skin.
“I told him, Willow.” My mother’s voice is low. “I told him what you did.”
A scream that’s been building inside me lodges itself in my throat.
My mother comes closer to me. “I wish you weren’t such a silly, selfish little girl. I had to make an arrangement with Detective Lacy in order to keep you out of prison.”
I move past my mother, my brain not fully taking in what she is saying. The toilet lid is up, and I empty the contents of my stomach in it. I’m still retching when my mother's heels click loudly on the tiled floor.
“If I can prove Rian guilty of a crime, you get to walk away, and it will be put down as a suicide.”
My retching turns to sobs before laughter takes over. She was handing over Rian to try to save me.
“What a fucking mess.” I can’t stop laughing. My mother doesn’t join in as I release the toilet and sit on the floor, wiping vomit from the corner of my mouth.
“Get up.” Her growl has my laughter stopping. “Stop being so selfish and play your part in this.”
I’m standing on shaky legs. “What do you expect me to do?”
I’m searching my mother’s face for some compassion in all this.
“Catch Rian in the act, prove it, and you get to walk free.”
“I love him,” I admit for the first time.
I don’t expect my mother to strike me—the burn sears across my face.
“Love me. Love your brother.” She’s breathing heavy with anger.
“I do,” I say while holding my face.
“Prove it.”
“I thought I already had.”
My mother sneers, but the pain is evident on her face. “By murdering your father?”
I can’t hold her gaze. “I did it to protect you.” My lip trembles and I’m a child again.
“You could have picked up the phone and called the police; you could have told your brother. You could have done so many things. What ten-year-old gets a gun and shoots her father in the head?”
I shrug. “A ten-year-old that had too much.” I blink the tears out of my eyes.
My mother covers her mouth with her hand while shaking her head. “If you don’t catch Rian killing someone, you won’t just go down for murder Willow. So will I.”
“No. You didn’t do anything.”
She’s laughing now before she snaps back at me. “I buried my husband and helped my daughter cover up a murder that we got away with for ten years. That’s not NOTHING.”
“I’ll take the blame.”
My mother’s hands grip my shoulders. ”Listen to me. It won’t matter. I will get the chair.”
My mother releases me, and the look in her
eyes makes me think she’s going to strike me again, but she doesn’t. She leaves my room.
She expects me to hand Rian over. I splash water on my face. If I do nothing, I go to jail, and she gets the electric chair. My stomach rebels again, but I manage to keep it down.
What would Rian do if he knew my mother and Detective Lacy were conspiring against him? What would he do now that I’m involved? I stare at myself in the mirror. One thing I knew for sure was that I would not let my mother fry in a chair.
Put Rian behind bars? Could I do that? He had been there before and survived. I push away from the sink. There had to be another way. I could plead my case to make Detective Lacy understand. That’s what I would do. I had nothing to lose this way, only my freedom. I honestly don’t believe I’ve had that since I was ten, anyway.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
RIAN
She’s been avoiding me for three days. Each time I see Catherine in the house, she looks at me with hatred. I hadn’t realized we had hit such a low. Me fucking her daughter must be really pissing her off.
“Where is Willow?” Catherine’s moving around the kitchen this morning, and I don’t see any fruit being cut up. That’s her normal routine.
“She’s going to church and then to work.” Catherine doesn’t turn as she makes herself a coffee.
“Oh, she’s returning to work?”
Catherine turns, holding the mug tightly. “Yes. She just needed some time away. What happened over the weekend seems to have taken a huge toll on my daughter’s mental health.”
She’s glaring at me, and I’m wondering which lie I’m meant to be scooping up right now. Was it the one where Willow’s father committed suicide?
“I’m sorry about your husband, Catherine. I didn’t know.”
She stiffens, her knuckles turning white as she grips the mug. “It’s not public knowledge. But it’s hard on Willow. She’s fragile.”
Catherine was a masterful liar. If I didn’t know the truth, I’d believe her. No wonder she had my father eating out of her hand. I want to call her out on her lie, but for now, I’ll play along and see how far she goes.