I wipe my face with shaking hands and look up, eyes swollen, heart bruised but still beating.
And for the first time since that day, the thought of tomorrow doesn’t feel like an act of betrayal.
It feels like permission to live.
The river hasn’t changed.
It’s the same slow current as the water flows, and the same crooked willow leaning over the water like it’s harboring a secret.
It’s the rest of the world that feels different now—emptier, lighter, as we walk the bank in silence, boots sinking into soft mud. The sun’s low, caught between a golden goodbye. Justin’s beside me, hands in his pockets, coat unbuttoned, wind tugging at the edge like it wants to steal him back.
We stand at the edge where the ground falls away into the water, the sound of the current folding over itself in endless repetition.
This is where they found Missy’s body.
The police cleared the bank hours after they took her away, but I swear the earth remembers.
I swear it still carries the shape of her where she lay.
My breath ghosts in the cold air. My hands shake even though I’m gripping my sleeves so hard that the stitches strain.
Ten years. Ten years, and I still can’t breathe here.
I crouch and touch the wet grass. The ground is soft. Damp. Alive. Everything she isn’t.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, though I’ve said it a thousand times and it never feels like enough.
A breeze moves through the reeds, making them sway like they’re nodding.
It feels like she’s forgiving me.
My truth sits under my ribs like a stone I swallowed.
If I hadn’t run… If I’d stayed… If I’d screamed louder… If I’d been braver… She wouldn’t have died alone…
A ripple moves across the water.
For a moment, ridiculous or not, I pretend she’s there. Watching me. Telling me togo home, Rowan.
Telling me it’s not my fault. A single tear hits the river. The water swallows it whole. Just like it swallowed her.
We stay until the sun drops behind the trees, until the river goes dark and the world forgets we’re there.
When we finally turn away, I don’t look back. Because some things deserve to stay buried—and some things, finally, deserve to be free.
52
EPILOGUE - ROWAN 3 YEARS LATER
The house sits low against the land, modest by design. A small cottage with weathered timber and wide windows, surrounded by acres of fenced-in green that stretch farther than the eye wants to follow. It’s surrounded by high fences and solid gates that don’t just keep people out—they keep peace in.
This is Titan and Lily’s first forever place.
Not the end goal, but the beginning. The ground they’ll build on. The place they’ll test the idea of permanence before committing to something bigger, something rooted even deeper.
They’ve been back for three years now, and there’s no restless pull in them anymore—no sense of unfinished business waiting to drag them elsewhere. This time, they’re settled. Rooted. And in no hurry to leave again.
I stand on the back deck with a drink in my hand, smoke drifting lazily from the grill, and think—this is what safety looks like when you have family.
