Page 63 of The Guilty One

Tate moves to stand in front of me, his hands behind his back to hold mine. I squeeze his hands, so grateful for the small piece of comfort, but it does no real good. I’m trembling as I stare at two of the people I’ve trusted most in the whole world, people I’ve trusted in my home and with my boys.

Without warning, Daphne rushes forward, throwing her arms around her son.

He hugs her back, his body stiff, as Lane lowers the gun.

“I don’t understand,” I say, stepping out from behind my husband.

“Your mom said you wanted her to have the boys tonight. We worried about you being here alone,” Daphne says. “So we thought we’d drive by. And then when we saw the truck was here, we didn’t know who it was. So we went around the back to make sure you were okay.”

“You were protecting me?” I ask, my voice trembling. “You broke in to protect me?”

Looking sheepish, Lane says, “I had the back door key. I would’ve never used it if I wasn’t worried you were in danger.”

I look at my mother-in-law, whose eyes are full of fat tears. “Oh, sweetheart, of course we were protecting you.” She squeezes me tight. “It’s all we’ve ever wanted to do—protect our kids. I’m so sorry. About everything. I’m sorry you’re in the middle of this.”

“Protect your kids?” Tate says, his voice breaking as he pulls me out of her arms. “To protect one, you killed the others?”

“No,” Lane says quickly.

“No,” Daphne agrees.

Lane goes on, “Tate, we didn’t. We wouldn’t. You have to know that, son. I tried to talk some sense into them. I went to Bradley first, yes. After you told your mother what was going on, that he was going to tell someone about what happened that night, I went to him to try to protect not just you, but all of you. You’re all my children.” His eyes land on me. “All of you. And I would move heaven and earth to protect you.”

“So you didn’t kill him?” Tate’s voice is stoic.

“He told me I could come over that night because his family was out of town, but when I left, I swear to you, he was alive and well. Whatever happened after that, it had nothing to do with you. It kills me knowing I left, and he died. It kills me not knowing if I could’ve protected him, but I would’ve never hurt him.”

“And Dakota? What about him? Was that a coincidence, too?”

My father-in-law rubs his forehead. “I will never forgive myself for that because, yes, I am the reason Dakota is dead. But I didn’t kill him. I didn’t do anything on purpose. I’d gone by your office to try to talk to you about everything while you were away from the house that day and I saw you leaving. At least, I thought it was you. I flashed my lights and tried to get you to pull over, but you sped up. I panicked, thinking something was wrong, and drove faster, and before I knew what was happening, you crossed lanes and overcorrected and ran off the road. I thought I’d killed you.” His voice breaks, and he looks down. “I ran over, tried to pull you out, but it was him. He was already gone, son. There was nothing I could do. He was just gone.”

“So you left him?”

Soft, silent tears descend his wrinkled cheeks. “I panicked. I went home. I’d lost two boys. Two sons in a matter of days. What was I supposed to do?”

Daphne speaks up then, crossing the room to hold her husband while she looks at her son. “All we’ve ever wanted is to keep you safe, Tate. We knew if the police found out what you’d done back then, we’d lose you. Once we’d talked to you, once you told me about Bradley’s plan, I was frightened. I knew we couldn’t let any of them talk to the police or change their minds about what we’d all agreed upon years ago, but we were going to offer them money. We were going to help them see reason. We’d never hurt them. We’d sooner confess to the murder ourselves. He was our child, after all.” Daphne wraps her arm around her husband, her eyes teary. “You all were. We loved you equally. And when we thought you were gone, too, it killed us. It destroyed us. We called your phone so many times just to hear your voice.”

“Were you the one calling me?” I ask them, remembering the strange calls I’d received. “Or was it always you?” I look at Tate.

“I called every day,” Tate says. “I missed you. I wanted to hear your voice, but I was also trying to listen for my parents, to decide if they were here. I wanted to warn you about them, but I had to make sure you were safe.”

“You know we’d never hurt you,” Daphne cries, covering her mouth. “Please tell me you know that. You’re our son. We love you. And Celine. And the boys.”

Tate crumples like it’s all he’s been waiting to hear. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.” I get the feeling he’s apologizing for much more than this. For everything before this. For all the things that have weighed on him over the years.

“Oh, honey.” Now Daphne and Lane are crying, too. They gather their son in their arms, hugging him. “It’s going to be okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

He turns back to me, a question in his eyes that he can’t speak, and I nod. I’m still here. We’re going to be okay, too.

I wasn’t wrong about this man. I wasn’t wrong about how much he loves me. I know who he is, and that’s the greatest feeling in the world. Despite all the mess and chaos that we’ll undoubtedly have to deal with and process after this, we have each other. We love each other, and he’s home.

Right now, that’s all I can bring myself to care about, so I hug my family and soak in this moment. All the rest can wait.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

DAPHNE

One Week Later

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