Sylvie said another thanks and looped her arm through mine, practically pushing me to the door, maybe sensing how ready I was to get the hell out of the post office.
I shoved the bin in the back seat and climbed in, fastening my seat belt as Sylvie got in beside me.
“Where to now?” she asked.
“Home,” I said, forcing the word out through my tight throat. “Before we leave, I want to go home.”
Chapter Fourteen
ELI
“Iwant to drive by my old house.”
A million words wanted to spill out after that, a confusion of grief and memory. I didn’t even know if I really wanted to see it. I was glad Sylvie was with me, so I didn’t have to do this alone. And I was half tempted to make a U-turn, head straight for the highway, and get the hell out of here. What was the point in going down memory lane? My mom, dad, and Annie were gone. Nothing would bring them back. And yet, I kept driving.
I didn’t unload everything piled up in my heart onto Sylvie. It was there, smoldering but still contained. I knew she’d listen. She might even have something comforting to say. But I couldn’t. Thirteen years. I hadn’t fully expected the way being in that post office, seeing Gertie Carmody again, would bring it all back.
I’d had a good childhood, the best family, and then they were gone.
Both my parents had been only children; their parents long gone by the time of the accident. When they died with my sister, there’d simply been no one left. No one to pullme back here, no one to make me remember, push me to talk about it all these years later. It had become a habit to push it down, to tuck it away.
It had been so long, and still, I didn’t miss a turn on the route from the small post office to the neighborhood we’d lived in. I turned right, then left, then left again, down almost identical streets not unlike the neighborhood where we’d found Emily Shaw’s parents’ home. One-story brick ranch houses, decent-sized yards, neatly kept. Nothing run-down and nothing particularly grand. Normal families living normal lives.
I pulled to a stop in front of a house on the corner, so like all the others. The oak tree I remembered was in the front yard, though the swing hanging off the branches was new, as was the basketball hoop in the driveway. Someone had painted the front door a lively red, the shutters charcoal gray. Everything was fresh and neat.
“Do you want to get out?” Sylvie asked.
I shook my head, my throat locked shut. I didn’t want to get any closer. This had been our home, but it wasn’t anymore. Even the landscaping was different; the bushes my mother had loved were replaced by mulched beds that probably held flowers in the spring. My mom hadn’t been much of a gardener—my dad had been the one to tend to them, trimming the bushes with the electric trimmer he’d gotten at the hardware store. My mother said chainsaws made her nervous, and that trimmer was the closest her husband was going to get.
I felt a hint of nausea, seeing the bushes around the front stoop in my mind. I blinked, and they were gone, the new owner’s flower beds in their place. Abruptly, I shifted the car into drive, turning at the corner and looping back, heading for Main Street and my final stopbefore I got the hell out of Hollow Creek, South Carolina.
“Was it different?” Sylvie asked, her voice gentle.
I gave a short nod, not trusting myself to speak. I had the sudden urge to abandon the trip to the cemetery and just go—escape this pain, these memories. Day-to-day, I tried not to think about how much I missed them. Usually, I succeeded, but here, the dam was breaking. I couldn’t hold it back. Not if I went to that cemetery. But no matter how much I wanted to keep going past the turnoff, back to Atlanta, to my team, to Sinclair Security, to the life I’d forged since the accident, I couldn’t leave without saying good-bye one more time.
I half wondered if I’d remember where the cemetery was. I’d only been there the one time. But I’d grown up in this town, had driven past it a million times before, and found it again without an error. The parking lot held only a few scattered vehicles. It was small. And I remembered exactly where my family was.
“I’ll be right back,” I said. “Stay here.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Sylvie nod in understanding. I couldn’t meet her eyes, afraid I’d ask her to come with me. I trusted her as much as I could trust anyone I’d only known a few days. But this wasn’t something I was ready to share with anyone. The door of the SUV thunked closed behind me, my feet crunching on the cold gravel as I walked down the path, winding my way through the gravestones until I found the three I was looking for.
I should have brought something. I clenched my fists, my hands too empty. I’d passed stones decorated with flowers, letters; one had action figures lined up in front of a stone carved with a painfully short lifespan. Another, a teddy bear. I’d come empty-handed, but at least I’d come. Ishoved my hands in my pockets and looked down. The graves were neatly trimmed, and lonely—so lonely my eyes watered, and I blinked hard. They weren’t here. Their bodies, maybe, but my parents, Annie—they weren’t here. They were gone.
I rolled my shoulders, trying to throw off the weight of loss. I didn’t even know why I had done this. There was nothing to see but three stones in the cold ground.
I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling wet heat on my cheeks. I wanted to run and never come back here. I wanted to sit in the grass and tell them everything they’d missed. I wanted to scream at the injustice of them being taken away and leaving me alone.
Instead, I just stood, frozen, missing them—an ache in my chest.
“You weren’t supposed to leave me,” I whispered. I’d been so young, and not young at all. I’d made it through my first few years in the army, and I’d loved it. I’d finally found my place, knew what I wanted to do. They’d been so proud and excited for me, even though Annie hated that I was so far away for such long stretches. But we’d emailed. We hadn’t lost touch. And then that cold night, the sleet and black ice on the way home from Annie’s basketball game. In the space of minutes, they were gone, and I was alone.
Until Silas found me, six months after they died.
I wouldn’t say Silas took my father’s place—no one could do that—but I’d needed what he had to offer. The guidance. And more than that, he’d cared. Not just as a boss. Creed Global was more than a business. We’d been a family. And now he was gone too.
My heart squeezed at that thought, and in my mind a fourth headstone appeared next to the three in front of me. I gave a sharp shake of my head. No. Silas wasn’t dead. Hewas out there, doing something, and we were going to figure it out and bring him home. And then everything could go back to the way it had been.
Unlikely, a small voice in the back of my head reminded me. Nothing ever went back to how it was. It wasn’t how life worked. Everything went forward. Change was inevitable. We worked for Sinclair Security now, and even if Silas came back, things would never be the same. Nothing would ever be the same.
