And I realize I’ve been protecting a murderer for six years.
I’ve been calling him dad.
I’ve been living in his house.
I’ve been letting him control me because I was too scared to remember what really happened that night.
But I remember now.
And I can’t keep lying anymore.
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Tigerlily
When I open my bedroom door, the guys are quiet.
They’re sitting in the living room like they’ve been waiting. Like they knew I’d come out eventually.
I walk over and sit on the couch between Jax and Callum. Zephyr sits across from us in the single chair.
They notice immediately that I’ve been crying.
Jax reaches over and cups my face with his hand. His palm is warm against my cheek.
“What’s going on?”
More tears fall before I can stop them.
I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to be apart from Zinnia. I don’t want my mom rotting in prison for something she didn’t do. I wish my dad weren’t dead. I wish I hadn’t spent the past six years carrying this weight in my chest so heavy I couldn’t breathe. So heavy I couldn’t be normal.
And I want this with these three so fucking badly.
I lean into Jax’s hand and wonder if they’re going to judge me for what I’m about to do. For what I know is the right thing to do even if it destroys my entire life.
I have so much pain in my arm that I can’t stop crying. The pain is a deadly reminder of what I’ve been through, what I’ve put up with, and I can’t keep going like this. I just can’t.
“I—I—” The words won’t leave my mouth.
Callum touches my knee. I jump at the contact. Then I rest my sweaty hand on top of his.
“Take your time,” he says quietly.
I inhale. Cry when I exhale. My whole body shakes with it.
I bend my head down and sob. I can’t hold it back anymore.
Jax rubs my back in slow circles. Callum squeezes my knee. Zephyr reaches across the space between us and takes my hand. He brings it to his lips and kisses my knuckles.
“I don’t deserve you guys,” I cry.
Then I look up at the ceiling and try to wipe the tears away, but more just take their place.
I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want to be known as a liar for the rest of my life, but I think that’d be better than how I feel right now. I feel like I’ve already been killed.
“I don’t think my dad has bail,” I start.
They nod.
I continue, “Otherwise he’d be out by now.”
