I nod and pass him the keys. A few heartbeats later, we’re out the door and on our way.
We drive to the Renegades’ compound and I glance questioningly at the side of his face. However, he refuses to look at me, but Rebel quickly voices my question. “What are we doing here?”
“Just wait,” he says softly. And so we do.
Kyler parks at the clubhouse, gets out, and motions for us to follow him. I shrug at Rebel, and we both exit the car. Kyler takes Rebel’s hand, and we step onto the path that leads deeper into the grounds.
We walk past Paxton’s house when suddenly something dawns on me. A little further, we come to a point where the road splits into three other paths. The left one leads to Abby and Kai’s house, the right one to Colton’s. We take the middle one. The one to the club’s cemetery, where my parents are buried.
Kyler is leading us to that spot, and we walk silently to my parents’ graves.
When we arrive, I notice a wooden cross next to my father’s grave that’s new to me and ugly as hell.
“It might feel a little strange,” Kyler begins gently, his voice soft as he speaks to Rebel. “There’s a spot now. There’s no headstone yet—I couldn’t make that happen overnight—butthere’s a wooden cross for now.” He gestures toward the simple, rough marker standing in the grass. “I know your dad isn’t really here, not like… physically. But this is a place that’s just for him. Somewhere you can always come to talk to him, think about him. Somewhere no one will ever bother you.”
He points quietly. “That’s your gran’s grave… and next to it, that one is your Pops’s.” His hand shifts ever so slightly to the freshly marked grave. “It only felt right to put your dad here with them. Even though…” He trails off, sighing deeply. His eyes flick up to her, almost shy. “You never got the chance to know them.”
Kyler slowly lowers himself to his knees so he’s looking up at her—completely unguarded, completely hers in that moment. “I didn’t know where else to go, Shorts,” he whispers. “But I made you a promise. I wanted to keep it. I hope this is okay.”
Without saying a word, Rebel crashes into him, wrapping her small arms around his neck. Her shoulders shake with quiet sobs as she clings to him. That’s all it takes—my own tears start slipping free, hot and heavy. I mouth a silentthank youto Kyler, but my lips tremble too much to form anything more than a ghost of a smile.
We stay there for a long while.
Rebel talks. She tells Kyler stories about Connor—some I’ve never even heard. Her voice is bright, filled with laughter and memory. Kyler listens like it’s gospel, smiling with her, nodding along, letting her take the lead.
And for the first time in a long time, it feels like it’s just us. Just the three of us. Safe. Real. Home.
That afternoon, while Rebel sits at the kitchen table carefully coloring, the news hits.
The voice of the radio reporter cuts through the silence:“This morning, a well-known real estate tycoon was found dead in his office. Police suspect foul play, but haven’t released any further details at this time.”
And just like that, the report moves on—as if it’s nothing more than a blip on the day’s chaos.
I stand frozen in front of the cabinet, my hand resting on the handle. I was reaching for two mugs, but now I can’t move. I stare at the wooden door, heart thudding.
They found him.
Behind me, Kyler doesn’t say a word. He’s still in the living room, quiet as ever. The kettle whistles softly, and I somehow manage to snap back into motion. My hands tremble as I pour the coffee.
“Look, Mom!” Rebel’s voice is bright. She holds up her drawing with pride. “Can we put this on the stone when it gets here?”
Her voice tugs me out of my spiral.
“Of course, sweetie.” I force a smile, swallowing the lump in my throat.
She beams and dives back into her drawing. “I want it to be really pretty so Dad will like it.”
“I’m sure he’ll love it,” I whisper, voice rough. “He’d be proud of you.”
I take the mugs and walk to the couch, sitting beside Kyler. “Are you absolutely sure—”
“I’m sure,” he cuts in softly.
“But the news, they—”
“Layne.” He gently takes the mug from my hand and sets it on the table. “Look at me.”
I lift my gaze and meet his stormy gray eyes.
