She scoffed.
“You can’t just bail on family Christmas because you’re in a shitty mood, Chrissy. Everyone wants to see you.”
“Everyone wants to see me?” I laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. “No. I’ll tell you what everyone actually wants. Everyone wants me to show up, smile, and pretend everything’s fine while I pay for Granny’s hospice care all by my goddamn self? While I work insane hours on my mediation cases because Mom andDad are cheap pieces of shit, who want her to come home because it costs less, but they don’t want to care for her, and they don’t really care whether or not Granny gets the level of care she deserves? While I’m the only person in this entire fucking family stepping up for the woman who stepped up and raised their oldest daughter for them? Fuck that.”
Alice’s mouth opened, then closed.
“That’s not?—”
“It’s exactly that,” I cut in, my voice shaking with barely contained rage. “I’m done. The only family I’m spending Christmas with is Granny Irene, because she actually treats me like family. Unlike you, Mom, and Dad.”
Alice recoiled like I’d slapped her, then immediately locked into defensive mode.
“You’re being dramatic,” she muttered.
“No,” I said, unlocking the door. “I’m being honest, which is something this family’s never been great at, by the way.”
I stepped inside and shut the door in her stunned face. The click of the lock sounded louder than it should have. I leaned back against the door and slid down until I was sitting on the floor, head in my hands.
The silence wrapped a hand around my throat and squeezed. I don’t know how long I sat there before I noticed the plain white envelope someone had slid under the door.
No stamp. No address. Just my name typed in clean font.
I picked it up with trembling fingers.
Inside was a single brass key and a small, folded note on heavy Old Stonewood Hunting Lodge stationery.
The message was typed and efficient to the point of being terse.
When you’re ready, check the East wing study. Top drawer, right side.
—H
Henry. My heart slammed against my ribs. I stared at the key like it was a live wire.
“I should throw it away,” I declared to my empty apartment. “I should tear the note up and burn the pieces.”
Instead, I closed my fist around the key until the teeth bit into my palm.
Five days. He had five days left before his stepmother returned to take everything away from him, and Henry — quiet, loyal Henry — was reaching out to me.
I didn’t know what was in that drawer, but for the first time since I walked out, the idea of going back to the lodge didn’t feel like surrender. It felt like the only way to get answers. Maybe even the only way to decide if this story was truly over.
I slipped the key into my pocket.
Tomorrow. I’ll go tomorrow.
Chapter
Thirty-Two
BEN
December 19
I sealedthe envelope with more care than I’d given anything in years.
The letter inside was eight pages — front and back — of everything I hadn’t had the guts to say to her face. Apology. Explanation. Truth. The raw, ugly parts I’d buried under manipulation and fear. The parts where I admitted I’d loved her since the day she bandaged my hand in a hardware store and didn’t flinch at the monster staring back at her.
