I get a sinking feeling deep in the pit of my stomach when I realize where Haven’s leading us. The closer we get, the thicker the air becomes—heavy with memories I’ve spent years trying to forget.
The trees open up into a small clearing, its focal point a massive maple tree. The trunk is wider than I remember, the bark more gnarled, but it’s unmistakably the same tree.
Our tree.
The place where she offered me everything, and I turned her away.
“Here,” Haven murmurs. “We can dig here.”
She gestures to a spot a few feet from the trunk, where the ground dips slightly and the moss is thick.
Rooke sets down his end of the body without comment, pulling a folding shovel from the bag he brought from the car. The fact that he has a go bag for burying a body should be setting off alarm bells, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from him at this point.
“There’s another one in there,” he says, nodding toward the bag.
I find it. A matching shovel, compact and efficient.
We start digging.
The earth is soft here, loamy and dark, easier to move than I expected. Rooke works with methodical precision, each shovelful landing in a neat pile. I’m messier, more frantic, attacking the ground like it’s personally offended me.
Haven stands watch, arms wrapped around herself. She’s wearing Rooke’s suit jacket, and I don’t know when he gave it to her.
I try not to think about the body wrapped in a blanket, waiting to be dumped in the same spot where I used to dream about having a normal life.
It doesn’t work.
Every shovelful of dirt brings another memory.
Haven pressing her lips to mine for the first time.
Haven at sixteen, begging me to keep my promise that I’d be her first.
Me pushing her away.
I dig harder, my muscles already burning from the exertion.
“That’s deep enough.” Rooke’s voice cuts through the spiral.
“Fuck off,” I mutter.
“Kai—”
“I said fuck off!”
I slam the shovel into the dirt with more force than necessary, and it connects with something that isn’t earth.
Something solid.
Something that might have been a rock if it hadn’t sounded so…meaty.
I freeze.
Rooke freezes.
Haven makes a small, strangled noise, and the flashlight skips away from the dig site, throwing it into darkness.
“What was that?” I drop to my knees, brushing away the dirt with my hands. It feels different here. Greasy, almost. My fingers hook on something, and I try to tug it out of the ground, but it’s snagged on something deeper.
