“Please,” Easton yells between coughs. “Please don’t let me die, Mommy.”
He’s so full of shit. He’s faking it so he can kill her once she saves him. But of course she’s going to save him. He’s her only living son.
Her onlyrealliving son.
“You can’t do this!” I tell her. “He’ll kill us! You know he will.”
“He’s my son.” She gives me a sad look. Tears streak through the soot on her cheeks.
Then she turns back to Easton.
“Marcus and I wanted children because we wanted to know thatwhen we died, we were leaving something better in the world behind us. With all my heart, I love you. Despite everything, Istilllove you.”
She sets down the fire extinguisher.
“But you’re dangerous. Not just to us, but to everyone. I don’t think you’re capable of leaving the world better than when you came into it.”
“Mom!” Easton finally looks shocked.
Valencia shakes her head. “I’ll love you for always, my baby.”
“Mommy! PLEASE!” Tears spill down Easton’s bloody, quickly reddening face. If I didn’t know better, I would think he’s scared. But Easton doesn’t know what fear is. Even now, I don’t think he knows.
“I’m sorry.” Valencia draws the gun she tucked into the top of her jeans.
“No!” He reaches over the fire for the weapon.
But Valencia pulls the trigger, and the bullet hits Easton right in the eye and exits the back of his head. He falls to his knees, then falls forward into the fire. Valencia drops the gun, putting her hands to her face as she lets out a heartbreaking scream.
I try to pull her away. And for a second, I’m worried she’s about to stay. That after learning that her missing son has been dead, watching her only living son kill her husband, then having to shoot that son herself, she might not be able to find a way to go on.
But finally she does move. And lets me lead her out of the inferno.
Fifty-Four
The fresh air feels amazing on my burning skin. I breathe deeply but immediately start coughing again and I collapse onto the grass of the backyard.
Miles runs over and hugs me. I groan as pain racks my entire body. He sobs against me and I hold him, whispering quiet apologies over and over. But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell him how sorry I really am for getting him wrapped up in all this.
I let Miles go and turn to see Valencia crouched down at the edge of the yard with her hands over her mouth and nose. She’s watching the boathouse burn as the fire spreads up through the roof.
“I don’t have my phone,” Miles says. “To call the police. Or fire department.”
“Someone will call,” I say, too tired to get up and go into the house to find our phones. Miles’s parents have probably been wondering where he’s been all day. They’ll look out and see the burning boathouse eventually. Then they’ll call. Or one of the other neighbors will.
I look over at Valencia. She’s sitting on the ground, leaning against her heels, almost as if she’s praying.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Miles. He nods as I stand and walk over to Valencia.
I crouch next to her. She’s not crying anymore, but her eyes are glassy in the firelight.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I know there’s nothing I can do, and sorry isn’t enough. But I needed to—”
“I chipped your tooth,” she says, interrupting me.
Is she talking about Nate? Was this something that happened to him? Some cute story maybe that she remembers about him? And she still thinks I’m Nate because having to shoot her own son has made her final tether to reality snap?
But then she turns to me, and she seems lucid. “When I did your cleaning the other week. I chipped your tooth.”
