Page 203 of Overcast

Apparently, I’ve been in the giving mood for fifteen days now.

I let Mills keep his fucking head and eyes.

I haven’t snapped Emmy’s neck with all her prodding.

And Bishop—no idea where the fucker is, but he left the Bianca job unfinished, so he owes me an explanation for hoeing me out and me having to do it alone.

“Sure, secret agent.” Placing the taco shells down, I glance at the table at what my sister made for me.

Reagan made my favorite meal, all ingredients neatly placed in front of us with mixed matched bowls and plates. I never gave a shit about home decor, and that’s where Reagan’s planning skills came in.

“So, how is everything going?”

Fucking terrible. Miserable. I want to bury myself in a hole. I want someone to beat my ass because I literally left Stormi alone with a note of my feelings and said sayonara like a complete douchebag.

“Where’s my surprise?” I reply instead for obvious reasons.

I’m not in the mood for this, I don’t want to talk about her, and I don’t want Reagan’s opinion either.

I’d rather go bury my own damn self than have a three hour talk like we did the last time about Stormi being innocent and what I was going to do with her.

“In the mail,” Reagan replies, taking a seat at my side. “I couldn’t board the plane with it.”

I perk a brow, attempting to sound teasing. “You bought me a mail-order bride?”

Reagan chuckles as she snaps open her water bottle. “Guess you’ll see whenever it gets here. Even though—” Her violet eyes flick to mine. “—I don’t think Stormi would appreciate it.”

And here we fucking go...

“Don’t see why not,” I deadpan, squeezing my condensed bottle of beer. I’m not drinking them fast enough.

“So...everything is back to normal?” My heart pinches on cue, recalling the guilt that suffocates me daily.

I refuse to know.

Emmy’s been pushing for it—wanting to make sure she adapted okay and that no one followed us there. She came up with everything in the book that could happen, surprisingly left tornadoes and hurricanes out of the mix, which only proved that Stormi dug into us deeply.

But as quickly as the idea came off her lips as a suggestion, I immediately shut it down. I can’t have any more involvement. I crucified myself the moment I went behind her back to get her a new life.

“Marty?” I literally jerk my head in my sister’s direction to snap me out of it.

“Yeah?”

“Stormi,” she repeats again. “Did you...” She lets her question trail off into so many scenarios, but I know the one she wants to know.

“Hooked her up with a new identity, bank account, job, and a house for her trouble.” The words are sour in my throat, creating a need for me to throw up in the nearest garbage bin.

That’s the part that stings the most—I’ll never get to hold or speak to her again. I threw her back into the world to be swallowed up in the normal day to day. One of those will be occupied with someone who will make her forget me.

And I deserve it.

For my whole existence to be omitted from her memory bank so she can make new ones with someone else who can give her everything.

“Wow...”

I let my brows fall. “What?”

“It’s just...that was extremely generous of you.” She lifts her shoulder dismissively, but she’s already given her ass away that she knows more than I’ve said. It’s a little blonde-haired thing called Emmy that is always up my ass and in my business.

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