“Sure thing.”
“Do you want me to send a car?” I think about Lauren, how maybe if she’d had a car, she’d be alive.
“No, sir. I’ll call an Uber, but thank you.”
“See you soon.”
I hang up and text Kev.
ETA60. HIT. LU - S.
Hang in there. Love you.
It’ll take me thatlong to arrange a detail, have them assemble, get the kids to bed, change clothes, and pack what I’ll need. I’ll stay over and come in with Kev in the morning.
Fuck Prophet’s optics. My boy needs me.
I return to the living room after notifying the detail I’ll be going over to the townhouse so they can prepare and be waiting, and to let them know Yaz is inbound, plus to have one of the femaleagents ready to come up when I’m ready to leave in case Yaz isn’t here by then.
I snuggle the kids to me. “Hey, guys? Yaz is on her way. After I say goodnight to you, I need to go to the house to talk to Uncle Kev. Okay? So if you wake up in the night and I’m not here, she’ll be here in her bedroom. Aunt Shae won’t be back until really late.” I’m leaving out the part where I’ll be gone all night,because they don’t need to know that.
Ivy looks a little pouty. “I want to see Uncle Kev.”
“Me, too,” echoes Myla and Hudson.
I didn’t tell them Kev was on-site for a little while last night. They would have been hurt knowing he didn’t come up and see them, even if I had lied and said it was after their bedtime.
They’re indirect victims in this, too. They loved Lauren, they love Kev, and they’rejust kids. They don’t understand all of this and shouldn’t have to. It was hard enough on them losing Charlie and Tory.
“Uncle Kev is going to try to come to work tomorrow, but no promises. If he does, if he can get here before you leave for school, I’ll have him stop in and say hi, okay?”
They all finally give me nods. I send them off to brush their teeth and get ready for bed.
I’ve tuckedthem all in and kissed them good night when Yaz arrives. She says goodnight to all of them, too, and then I’m heading downstairs to my awaiting car, a garment bag in hand and my duffel bag with things I’ll need.
It’s fifty-five minutes after Kev’s text when I unlock the townhouse door and walk inside. Kev’s not downstairs, and I don’t bother calling out to him.
I hurry upstairs and find himhuddled in a ball in the middle of our bed, sobbing uncontrollably. There’s a manila envelope next to him, some scattered papers, but in his hand are several pieces of lined yellow paper, stapled at the upper left corner and covered with handwriting.
I drop everything and kick off my shoes so I can climb into bed with him. There, I gently pry the paper from his hand, turn him to face me, andhold him until he literally cries himself to sleep in my arms.
Only then do I pick up the letter and read it, first skipping to the end to see who it’s from, although I can guess.
Lauren.
I realize they’re actually several letters stapled together, from different times, the oldest one on top.
As I read them, I can’t help but cry, too.
For him, and for her.
