Piece by piece, he stared down at the unfamiliar scraps of metal. For all he knew, any number of them could have belonged to Ginny.
It had to be a fluke. There had to be an explanation. For whatever reason, Frank had The Judge’s ring, and Frank would have a reason. A damn good reason for having this—this key ring full of things that so clearly didn’t belong to him. And Frank’s reason would make perfect sense, and Preacher’s world would stop spinning and—
Preacher froze.
He stopped moving, stopped breathing.
Everything stopped.
His heart, his breath, the whole fucking world went skidding off the road, headed straight for the unforgiving wall of what was to become his new reality and shattering everything he thought he’d known.
“No…” he whispered hoarsely. “No, no, no, no, no.”
Staggering backward, his back found the wall.
He shook his head, refusing to believe his own eyes. Maybe it wasn’t hers. Maybe it was just a coincidence.
With a shaking finger, he touched the tiny silver butterfly—spotted and tarnished.
A strangled noise slipped past his lips. “Wheels,” he rasped.
Preacher hopped out of bed and dropped down on one knee. Then he gestured for Debbie’s hand. Looking adorably bewildered, she gave it. Twisting her butterfly ring off her index finger, he pushed it onto her ring finger.
“I promise I’ll get you somethin’ better,” he told her. “A big, fat rock or somethin’. Whatever the fuck you want.”
She only continued to stare down at him, wide-eyed and gaping. Several seconds passed, long enough that Preacher was starting to wonder if he’d made a mistake by springing this on her. Hell, he hadn’t even known he was going to ask her. It had been a spur of the moment decision brought about solely by the way she made him feel—like she was it for him. Like there couldn’t possibly be another her out there, and so he needed to get his fucking shit together and do right by her.
His brow rose. “Wheels, you gonna say somethin’ or you gonna leave me hangin’ ‘round down here like a goddamn fool?”
Debbie slid quickly off the bed, dropping onto his lap. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him. “Yes,” she whispered against his mouth.
“What’s that?” he asked. He pulled back to look at her—into the eyes that never failed to bring him peace. And at those sexy-as-hell lips that he couldn’t get enough of.
Laughing happily, she shoved at his chest. “Yes, I’ll marry you! Yes, yes, yes!”
Feeling wetness on his cheek, Preacher blinked. Then he blinked again, and more tears fell.
Unsteady and trembling, he turned to look at Frank. The sight of his friend—disfigured and lying broken in a bed—didn’t have quite the same effect on him as it had before.
He looked at Frank as if he’d never seen him before.
Why? The one-word question pounded through him, as unrelenting and demanding as Preacher’s thrashing heartbeat.
Why—
How—
He didn’t—
He couldn’t—
Breath purged from Preacher’s lungs. His eyes squeezed shut and tears rained down his cheeks. He didn’t know where to begin. How to process. What to think. How to feel. He knew nothing—absolutely fucking nothing.
He wanted to rationalize this, wanted to slap some sort of reasonable explanation onto this discovery, but the truth wouldn’t relent. It pushed against each barrier Preacher tried to erect, battering wildly, shouting loudly, refusing to be ignored.
The key ring felt suddenly too heavy in his hand, this key ring full of… fucking trophies. Heavy and pulsating, pulsing like a beating heart. The beat echoed in his ears, in his veins.
Those rings weren’t just rings. They were people. Dozens of people.
