Page 98 of Something Like Sunflowers

She can’t believe it any more than I could.

It’s still the truth.

“His girl was part of it. They planned to run off with whatever was left, but ended up arrested at a gas station later, two counties over.”

My teeth grind, my head shaking as I relive the hearing all over again. The images of Annabelle Presley’s scorched body on a fifty-two-inch projector.

Fuck! I slam my fist against the wall, not giving a shit about the pain, but summoning it. Wanting my fists to crack and bleed. But Devyn grabs my wrist and tightens her hold, cradling it until our fingers twine, and I meet her teary-eyed stare.

“That’s all Annabelle’s death bought them, fifty miles of getaway.” A sob rips from my throat, and I turn to face her. “How could he do that, Dev? Sammy.”

She pulls my head to her chest and holds it there for a moment as I breathe, keeping time with her heartbeat, steadying my own. I’ve never released this information to anyone before, and I can’t stop now. Not while I’m sharing with someone who knew the Sam I did.

“I have to keep going.” I sit up straight and brushing my face across my sleeve, the reassurance she provides being exactly what I need to get this out in the open and off my chest.

“Sam’s girl was arrested with him that day. At six months pregnant. That’s why Garrison resents her.”

His child died, while Samuel’s lived.

“Ellie,” she gasps, eyes wide with a new understanding of a reality that never should have been.

I nod, our eyes meeting squarely for the first time since I started the story.

“I became legal guardian to a newborn baby as a nineteen-year-old, with an addiction to fighting, gambling, and a one-bedroom rental by the tracks, Dev.”

“What did you do?”

“I called your father,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck. “I didn’t know who else to call. He had money, resources, I don’t know. He was my fill-in father growing up. Nobody ever came to my career day, but your dad had no problem claiming both me and Dusty when he’d show up in our classroom. My boys, he’d call us. Until I got you pregnant, crashed that car…everything was my fault, Dev.” I turn back to her, shaking my head. “I know that. I’ve always known that.”

“Your fault?” She whirls on me. “Hunter, me getting pregnant was not your fault. In case you’re forgetting, I all but jumped you that day in the shed. The hearts carved on that weathered wood out back are proof of that. And the crash?” She shakes her head. “The other driver was drinking, for Christ’s sake. You can’t seriously blame yourself for someone else’s actions.”

“Don’t you? I should have swerved sooner. I could have—”

“You wouldn’t go back and change it, right? You said that yourself.” She lifts her chin, holding me hostage with her stare. “So, stop going back in your mind and blaming yourself.”

I take in her serious face, scrunched brow, pursed lips, and flushed cheeks, all lit by a glowing green gaze.

God, she’s beautiful.

I huff a solid gust of air, knocked in the gut by all that is Devyn Lynn Campbell.

“I’ll agree to anything you say because you’re so pretty,” I tell her, earning a swat to the chest. She stands to pace the floor, wiping her tear-soaked face across her sleeve.

“So, my dad helped you with Ellie, how? Got you a custody lawyer or something?

“Not exactly. Custody wasn’t on the table. The best Katie could do for us were long term foster care rights, providing Aunt Sarah act as a co-guardian, when she was still with us, which I took.

“Your father bought the farm. Told me he’d give it to me outright if I finished rehab for my—” I stop, blowing out a stream of air, but it’s okay. She sees me. She knows me.

“—my problems. There was this special family program for non-drug and alcohol related addictions. It was outside of town, but Katie fudged some details on the paperwork and your dad may or may not have paid the right people not to care.” I smile, a laugh even escaping me as I recall the yellow wallpaper peeling from the entryway. “It had dorms with kitchens, like a shelter, sort of. Ellie and I stayed there for a few months while your dad sent people to clear out the old barn and renovate it just enough to pass as livable by social service’s standards. Then, once he found out how low those standards actually were, he had a team of people come in to make it livable by Mr. Campbell standards.”

I chuckle, thinking about how he’d barely toured the first floor of the farmhouse with its caving ceilings and moisture damaged flooring before he snatched Ellie from the Pack ‘n Play and refused to let us stay there until his ‘people’ came by to fix the place.

Devyn smiles, and I realize she’s mimicking my own expression. This is the one part of the story that is somewhat laced with happy memories.

“He came to visit once or twice. Checked up on Ellie.”

Devyn’s eyes widen, and she stands, walking across the room. I stand, too, my voice carrying through the barn.

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