“Oh, yeah? Let me guess. Now that you remember I'm the prime suspect in a murder case, you’re regretting letting your dick take the lead.”
The silence is my only answer.
His hand scrubs his beard before taking mine. “The State Police have assembled at the parking lot. Hunt agreed to hold them off while I carry you to an ambulance.”
I open my mouth, but he’s not finished. “Oh—he also mentioned your whole damn family is waiting at the bottom of the hill.”
My lungs stop breathing for a moment. The trees close in, their branches reaching for me. “Surely notallof them.”
He nods grimly. “Parents. Siblings. A few others.”
Knees weak, I drop onto a moss-covered log. If I could rewind time to erase the one bad decision which upended everything, I’d do it in a heartbeat. “Give me a second.”
“I meant what I said. I won’t let them handcuff you.” His voice is soft now, laced with steel.
“You don’t understand.” I blow away a lock of hair stuck to my lips. “It’s complicated.”
Crouched in front of me, his gaze searches mine. “Regardless, we’ve got to move. Are you coming?”
The parted pines below create a toothy, cavernous mouth, ready to devour me. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.” His tone hardens. “And don’t even think about running.”
“I haven’t since the drugs wore off.” It’s a lie, barely whispered.
In truth, annoying, tempting, impossible to ignore thoughts have buzzed through my mind constantly. “I’d rather go back to Afghanistan than face my entire clan without a giant turkey to hide behind.”
He huffs something akin to a laugh, but there’s no humor in his eyes, only tension, and a heat so intense, it melts a cold chip off my heart.
Too soon, the forest thins. Bright, sharp sunlight slashes through the trees, making me squint. By the time I blink into the glare of the gravel parking lot, it’s already too late.
“Dammit, Bree. We thought you were dead.” The oldest brother pulls me to his chest before I can register his face.
As I inhale his familiar cologne, he swipes his teary eyes, stepping back to let the rest swarm in. Dozens of limbs loop around my shoulders, back, and waist. It’s either a group hug or a Super Bowl pile-up at the one yard line.
Their voices tumble on top of each other. “Funeral arrangements—lawyer—State Police called—we’ll post bail—you’re not alone—come home, Bree, please come home.”
Ears ringing, my throat constricts until I can’t breathe. If I faint now, I’ll only make things worse.
“Kade?” My voice wobbles. “A little help here?”
“Folks, listen up? Let’s give the paramedics some room.” The booming sheriff leads me away from the mayhem, then carries me to the metal edge of the open ambulance.
My mother follows, my sisters in tow.
“Where were you? Why didn’t you call?” Marie, the bossiest, pushes past one of the emergency responders slipping a blood pressure cuff up my arm.
Dog by his side, my temporary bodyguard steps in front of her. “Sorry, ma'am. She can answer your questions after a doctor checks her out.”
Letting out a dramatic huff, the hoard’s matron thrusts forward a middle-aged Japanese man. Wearing wire-rimmed glasses, an expensive suit, and an awkward expression, he shakes my hand.
“This is Mr. Ito.” My mom pats my head. “He’s your lawyer. Don’t say anything, honey.”
No, no, no.“Wait. Who's paying for—”
“Mom and Dad are paying,” cuts in my sister, Persephone—Percie for short, tormentor by trade. “Although technically, they can’t afford it either.”
They can and she knows it.
