“Tell her not to worry then. It’s unnecessary.”
“Is it?” He quirks a brow.
“It’s none of your business. Stay out of it.”
“Nope.” He waggles his brows, and it irritates me to no end.
“Fuck off, Charles.”
“I know where you were on Monday, and you don’t have to say anything for me to know this is about Jane.” He levels me with a look bordering on pity, and I fucking hate it.
“My answer is nonnegotiable, and it’s still no.” I shove him away, uncaring he stumbles and almost loses his balance completely when I slam my door shut and peel out of there.
After I have somewhat calmed down, I call Selena and Felicity together and give them a quick update on my visit with Vera. Then I hang up and call Ezra. “How the fuck does Charlie Barron know about my trip to L.A.?”
“I’ve got no idea,” he calmly replies.
“I fucking pay you to know!” I roar, digging my nails into the steering wheel.
“I’ll look into it,” he says, and I hang up.
I’m still wired when I pull into the parking lot at the cemetery on the outskirts of Rydeville forty minutes later. Grabbing the flowers I just bought, I get out and begin the trek through the large graveyard, heading toward the ornate crypt at the back, alongside the bordering wall. Tree branches sway in the light breeze as I walk along the path, transecting rows of gravestones, some kept in pristine condition, others clearly neglected with overgrown weeds, faded pictures, and chipped engraving.
The crypt I paid to have built six years ago is tucked into a corner at the rear of the grounds as far from my father’s grave as possible. Every other Manning, going back generations, resides in the private graveyard on the grounds of Mom’s estate. There was no way Michael Hearst was ever getting buried there. Especially not after he turned Mom’s family home to ash in the aftermath of his death.
The asshole had clearly left instructions, and some elite prick had carried them out. We never found out who was behind the arson, but it makes no difference now. What matters is Mom rebuilt a home for herself on the grounds, and in a twisted way, my father did her a favor. There were so many bad memories attached to the old Manning house. Mom’s sprawling modern mansion isn’t tainted by that bastard, and it’s the fresh start she needed.
If I’d had my way, Michael Hearst would be rotting at the bottom of the ocean right now. But Mom is clearly a better person. Despite the hell he put her through and the years he stole from her, she wanted him buried. She said it was the right thing to do, and Abby and I didn’t fight her on it, even if we didn’t agree. There wasn’t any service, but Mom organized the coffin and burial in the cemetery. Maybe seeing the plain gravestone was something she needed. A physical reminder the monster is dead. A celebration of our victory over his evil ass.
I’ve been lost in thought, not realizing my journey until I’m standing in front of my love’s final resting place. FORD is engraved on the section over the gated door of the crypt, summoning a lump at the back of my throat like usual. Placing a hand on the stone wall, I bow my head and close my eyes, letting my torment run free. My chest heaves as pain obliterates me from all sides. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea coming here straight from a difficult visit with Vera.
It’s all too raw.
It takes me longer than usual to unlock the gate and step inside.
Stained-glass windows let in slivers of light as I move around the square room lighting the various candles. Jane loved candles. Lavender was her favorite, and every time I visited her bedroom, she had a few lit.
The lump in my throat thickens as I approach the first raised marble box, which cossets all that’s left of the love of my life. “Hey, beautiful. Sorry I haven’t visited in a while.”
I replace the flowers in the vase on top of the coffin and sit on the adjacent marble bench. Propping my phone against the side of the coffin, I press play on our playlist. It’s the last one Jane made for me before I sent her and her family away from Rydeville to their demise. Pain spears through me as I place my hand on top of her coffin. “I’m so sorry I failed you, my love. That I continue to fail you.” My eyes flit to the three matching empty coffins alongside her. “I swear I won’t stop until I find Silas and your parents. I promise I will hunt the person or persons responsible to the ends of time until I’ve made them pay.”
“Jane’sdead?” a man with a familiar voice asks from behind me.
Anger wars with resignation as I turn to face Charlie.
Shock is splayed upon his face, joining the grief that rises in his gaze.
I don’t bother asking how he knew to find me here. I wasn’t tailed. I made sure of it. My guess is he put a tracker on my SUV last night after I left Abby and Kai’s place following a boisterous dinner with Charlie and Demi and all their respective kids. It was remiss of me not to check this morning before setting off for Moonlight. It’s a testament to how fucked up I am after my disappointing trip to L.A. How much it’s all really starting to weigh on me after years searching for answers.
I scrub my hands down my face and sigh. “You really don’t know when to leave it, do you?”
“You’re my brother, and you’re in pain. I can’t do nothing anymore, Drew. Especially not now.” He stares at Jane’s coffin for an indeterminable time, and the air is thick with unspoken emotion.
My heart feels heavy, my body bone weary, and my mind drained as I watch my friend openly grieving. Jane and Charlie weren’t particularly close, but they got along and became friends in time. Charlie was there for all of it. He witnessed me falling for Abby’s best friend when I was fourteen and helped me plan a strategy where my father agreed to replace my intended bride with the girl I was madly in love with. He was there to prop me up when the guilt of all I was concealing from her almost suffocated me.
Charlie drops onto the bench beside me, sliding an arm around my shoulders in silent support. We stare at the coffin as the scent of lavender fills the chilly space and flickering shadows bounce off the stone walls. The musical story of our love plays quietly in the background.
“Who were you visiting at Moonlight?” Charlie asks after minutes of silence have passed. I’m surprised he’s not asking about Jane. Maybe he senses I can’t talk about her death in here.
