Page 30 of The Wrecked One

I looked out at Emerald Lake, which was still frozen, then took in the view of the postcard-like image of a resort in the distance, wishing I was inside that lodge with Mya. If only I could wish away what happened and create an alternative reality.

The only alternate reality that ever infil’ed my thoughts, though, was the nightmare of not being able to save Mya that day. Having to watch that sick fuck rape her.

“Why didn’t you ever reach out to me, at least after Mom died?” I understood the leaving part now, far too well. But I supposed I still needed to know why he didn’t fight harder to stay in my life.

“That’s a long story and for another day.”

At his words, I hung my head, deciding not to press. A few quiet moments later I admitted the ugly truth. “I’m a murderer.”

I held my side when my knife wound started acting up again. It didn’t help that I used booze to numb the pain instead of medicine. Without the alcohol in my system, the new scar was now throbbing again.

“You don’t think for one second I wouldn’t have done the same if given that choice? You’re lucky you had that decision to make.” His tone deepened. “I didn’t.”

Regret was a hungry beast, and now it was crawling through him. Regret, a close second to its cousin, guilt.

Hoping to chase away the persistent pain, both at my side and in my heart, I snatched the canteen and took a sip. “You’re a hypocrite. Drinking whiskey at zero eight hundred after giving me shit about hitting the bottle.”

“I’m doing my best to prevent you from ending up like me. I never said I have plans to change. I’m sixty-eight.” He took back the bottle and returned the cap. “Besides, it’s cold out. This whiskey is to warm my blood.”

“Yes, I’m very aware of the cold. My balls are fucking frozen.”

“Looks like you won’t need them anymore since you’ve decided to tuck them away and hide out here.” He tsked. “Never thought you’d try and find me, though.”

“I’ve kept tabs on you, same as it seems you’ve been doing with me,” I admitted. “But that does mean you’re in danger if I stay here. If The Collective finds out where I’m at . . .”

Dad set aside the canteen and stretched out his legs, casually crossing his ankles as if the world wasn’t crumbling down all around us, and the heavens were but an artificial construct—a glass roof over our heads. One hammer to it, and it’d shatter, ending life as we knew it.

“I wouldn’t mind a little action. Let them come for you. I’ll be prepared. I’ll take as many bastards to hell with me as I can.”

“Who says you’re going to hell?” I sucked in the sharp, cold air, and it burned my lungs.

“You don’t live the life I have and not have a room reserved there.” He sighed, then slowly looked my way. “Listen, did you really come all this way just to sit around as some broken shell of a man? Waste away up here in the woods?” He’d watered down his tone to something barely above casual, but then he shifted positions and stood and his entire demeanor changed. “Or are you going to pull yourself together and fight back?” He offered his hand, clearly not interested in waiting for my decision.

His message was clear. Don’t roll over and surrender. Get up. Fight.

I stared at his gloved hand, unsure what to think aside from the one harsh truth I knew. “I left her. The team.” There’s no coming back from that, from what I’ve done. “I had no choice. I told Mason to take care of her for me. Even if I wanted to go back one day, I can’t.”

“Depends on how long you plan to stay away. I waited too long. By the time I figured my shit out, your mom had already sent the divorce papers and moved on.”

I’d meant to keep the “go back one day” words within the prison of my mind. Eyeing the canteen he’d left on the ground, I went for it and unscrewed the top. “I’m too messed up.” And I can’t forget what almost happened to her. What I did after that. I can’t move on.

“You’ll feel better when you get justice.” With the tip of his boot, he kicked the canteen from my hand, and I stared at the golden-brown liquid sliding across the snow.

Did I want payback? Of course, but . . .

“We both know why you really came to me, and it wasn’t to get piss-drunk every day.” Crouching, hat returned to his head, he reached for my arm, commanding my attention.

“And did you feel better after you killed those men? Did it fix things? Make us a family again?” Pain worked its way up into my temples and behind my eyes, a headache forming.

“You saved Mya. I couldn’t save your mother. Different stories.” He removed his hat by the crown, letting go of a deep exhalation. “And like hell will I let yours have the same ending as mine.”

10

OLIVER

THREE AND A HALF MONTHS LATER – JULY

The intercom hidden on the exterior of the property had been broken for two weeks, but I kept smashing the button to try to warn the uninvited guest anyway.

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