He just grunts as I make my coffee and walk to the backdoor. “Damn it.” With the sun shining in my eyes, I slam the door back, wincing at the bang it made, forgoing that torturous light.
“Seriously,” comes from the kitchen.
Saddling up next to Weeks, I sip my coffee in silence. Once it’s empty and the Advil has taken effect, I feel more human. “I’m heading to Matteo’s in a bit if you want to go.”
“Naaaaaaa.” He drawls the one-word syllable out like it’s fucking ten. “I’m going to sober up and go see my girl this evening.”
“I guess we both have dates with our girls, then.” I smile and he hums in agreement.
I take my time gathering everything I think Rowan would want while we stay at the little apartment. We’re not coming back here until after my job, and we find out who’s behind all this shit.
With her open duffle on the closet floor, I throw clothes in it, then stop, knowing she’d kill me if I bring her rumpled clothing, so I fight with trying to fold them, which only makes them into little balls. “Perfect to me,” I tell the empty closet while pulling her underwear drawer out, grabbing a handful and letting those fall however they might into the bag. Going back for a second bundle because I don’t know how many a woman needs. There are periods, accidents, and just needing to change every day. My hand makes purchase on a slick paper, pulling it out along with more panties. I’m greeted by a little girl sitting in a chair in an enormous room, a chandelier in the frame. I can tell immediately it’s Rowan by the eyes, but what breaks me is the look on that face. This little girl is going through her own nightmare, not realizing what the big her will go through a few years later. Tucking it back into the drawer, I move on to toiletries. After I feel like I got everything, the duffle weighsas much as Rowan. Walking out of the bathroom, I stop. The picture keeps popping into my head. Dropping the duffle, I turn around, heading into the closet, pulling the picture out, and looking closer at it. That chandelier. Bringing it closer to my face, my stomach drops. I’ve seen that chandelier before. I replay the night we went to Briggs' old house, trying to force the image of the living room. My anger was so high that it’s hard to focus on what I saw, but I’d swear on anything that’s the chandelier in their living room. My hands shake, wanting to crumple up the picture, when I put two and two together. Briggs met her before the tomb. He knew about her way back. “Motherfucker,” I grumble, tossing the picture back in the drawer.
Righting myself, the new realization plaguing me, I grab the duffle, making my way out of the room. I want to forget what I just learned. Hoping Rowan doesn’t know this fact, I think it would fuck with her even more to know David tried when she was just a child to hand her over to Briggs. And honestly, what good would it do for her to know?
Walking down the stairs, Roxy sits by the front door, like she knows we’re leaving. I didn’t ask Shelbi about Roxy, but I’ll deal with that when we get there. There is no way I’m leaving her here, even if I must pay extra; she’s coming.
With the car loaded, all my necessities for the next job in its secret compartment under the backseat. Roxy hangs her head out the window of Daisy. “Have you ever been given a ride before?” I ask her, knowing she isn’t going to reply.
“I’ll see you in a few days for our debriefing,” Weeks says while standing outside the garage, looking better than this morning.
“Tell Gabriela, Uncle Luca says hello. Could you please check if all the windows are locked and secured before you go?” I call from over the car before climbing into the driver's seat.
“Best believe.” Weeks waves, tapping the hood.
The house disappears as I make my way down the hilly drive. Passing Lauren’s tree, I smile at her.
Why didn’t anyone ever tell me that having a dog as a riding companion is the worst decision? Roxy keeps jumping from the front seat to the back, barking at every car we pass. I grit my teeth, knowing her nails are likely scratching my leather seats. Damning myself for not covering them with a blanket. Lesson learned.
The funeral home gate greets me, opening before I can even punch in the access code.
“Please be good.” I pet Roxy, who is now sound asleep after wearing herself out.
I spot Rowan standing on the concrete steps, waiting. My heart skips a beat seeing her. My soul recognizes hers, as if it’s been lost, seeking her out forever.
Parking, she walks around the car to meet me, but stops when she sees Roxy’s head pop up. Forgoing me, she goes to her and opens the passenger door. Peeking in, she asks, “Why’d you bring Rox?”
Not wanting to tell her the true reason now, “I thought she should get out of the house.” I shrug.
Rowan’s eyes squint, sensing I’m not saying something, but he leans over Roxy, giving me a kiss. Her soft lips meld to mine. Breaking it, she leans out of the car. “Is Matteo going to care that she’s here?”
“He’ll get over it if he does.”
“Luca.” And the way she says my name, I can tell she’s now worried about what Matteo will say.
Deciding to leave my car parked here for a bit, I turn it off and get out, stretching the kinks in my back. “She might need to use the restroom.”
Rowan meets me in front of Daisy. “Where? In the graveyard?” comes out mockingly as she walks away, Roxy following her.
“Look, there isn’t any on the side of the house.” I point to the empty lot next to the house before unlocking the trunk.
While looking at me over her shoulder, she spots the bags in the trunk, honing in on them and stops in her tracks, spinning around to face me. “What are those?” Her words are worried. And I know she already has the worst-case scenario going on in her mind.
Forgetting the bags, slamming the trunk, I say, “Just things we’ll need.”
Her sigh is loud. “We?” a confirmation that I’m not leaving her here.
“Let’s talk.” We walk to the side of the funeral home, the grass luscious and dark green, both watching Roxy run around trying to find the perfect spot to shit.
