“Kellan sent her to pick up the grant application form.”
Fuck. If I hadn’t forgotten to drop the form off at Kellan’s house, Emily would still be alive.Christ, I can’t even begin to…
I close my eyes for a beat, pressure building in my chest.Why did I have to forget to drop it off?“How’s Kellan doing?” The question squeezes past the lump in my throat, my voice rough and splintered.
“Did you know he and Em were dating?”
I barely keep from getting whiplash at how fast I turn my head. “Since when?”
It’s been obvious for a while Emily was in love with Kellan. Obviousto everyone but Kellan, that is. But I got the impression he was happy to keep things as they were between them. As friends.
“Few weeks, maybe. They were keeping things quiet for now, since they weren’t ready for everyone to get in their business. But I suspect his feelings for Em run deeper than any of us realized.”
I don’t know what to say. I can imagine the guilt Kellan’s dealing with, having been well acquainted with the emotion myself. I wouldn’t be surprised if he blames himself for sending Emily to pick up the contract from my house, instead of getting it himself.
But it isn’t his fault. He couldn’t have known. There was no reason to suspect someone armed would show up at my house. No reason to suspect someone would shoot her.
“What about you?” Lucas asks.
“What about me?”
“Something tells me Kellan and Emily weren’t the only ones who were involved behind everyone’s backs.” Thebustedtone of his voice rings clearly in the SUV.
I inwardly groan. Not because he’s figured it out, but because I fucked everything up. I thought I didn’t deserve Zara. And then when I finally pulled my head out of my ass, cast my demons aside, realized Zara’s it for me, she disappeared. Has possibly been kidnapped.
She put her brave heart on the line, and now she’s out there somewhere and has no idea how much I love her.
Has no idea she’s the oxygen to my flame.
The air I need to breathe. The blood in my veins.
The woman I want to wake up to every morning, to fall asleep with in my arms every night.
Instead of being reassured I love her, that’s she’s my heart and soul, she’s probably scared and in great pain.
Lucas pulls into my driveway an hour later. Police cruisers are parked on the street, a warning to reporters I’m not interested in talking to them.
It doesn’t mean I won’t be. Noah told me there will be a press conference, a time when I will plead for my daughter’s and Zara’s safe return. But until then, I need space to process everything.
I walk toward the front door. The dense wall of trees and bushes in my yard shelters me from prying eyes beyond the driveway.
My brain commands my legs to sprint to the door and see if Noah has any new information since the last time my brothers talked to him. But my body doesn’t have the energy to push past the weight of my grief.
Blood, visible in the light spilling from the stoop, stains the driveway. And something sharp reaches inside me, yanks my heart into my throat.
The contents of my stomach heave and churn, but even if I do hurl, I haven’t eaten in over twelve hours. There’s nothing much to splash on the driveway. To mark the spot where the nightmare became more real.
White tape outlines where Emily took her last breath. Where all her hopes and dreams and ambitions died. Bile rises in my throat, and my hands shake.
I bend forward, palms braced on my knees. I attempt to suck in air. If whoever took Peony and Zara killed someone like Emily, what will keep them from doing the same to my daughter and Zara?
Inhale.…Exhale. One breath at a time.
I release a shaky exhale, straighten, take one last glance at where Emily lost her life. “I’m so sorry, Em.” Grief cracks my voice. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to protect you.”
Noah and Officer Hunt are in the foyer with a red-eyed Athena when Lucas and I walk through the front door. Athena is clutching Poppy to her chest, her pale cheeks wet with fresh tears. One look at me, and a loud sob escapes her.
But that’s not what I focus on. It’s the panda in her hand that has my heart squeezing painfully.
