Page 158 of Saved By My Buyers

Shaking my head gently, I say, “No. That man terrorized and hurt you, and was going to force me to sign over an inheritance I kept ignoring so he wouldn’t be able to get it. I don’t have any regrets, Dahlia. Do you?”

“None,” she says vehemently, gasping in pain as she rubs her ribs carefully. Yeah, they’re going to be a bitch for a while. “I don’t have a single one. Does this make us bad people?”

“No. It makes us people that have been pushed too far for too long,” I mutter. “It may not have been in the heat of the moment, but Gareth had all the intent to kill us.”

“He doesn’t deserve a single second of your worries,” Jack says, stepping back inside. “Your boss said to take the next two weeks off, Bee. The job is secure, don’t worry. On the other note, do either of you feel badly about what you did?”

Sitting in the chair next to Dahlia, he gazes at us as Dahlia and I shake our heads.

“I don’t,” I say honestly.

“I was trying to figure out if it made me a freak not to feel any remorse,” Dahlia says softly.

“You were pushed farther than most people should ever be,” Jack says. “You’re a survivor, not a freak.”

Nodding, I watch as Dahlia decides to take him at face value. Gareth tried to rip us both from our lives last night, and I’m going to add it to the lost list of things that I’ll always struggle to forgive him for.

Chapter Thirty-Two

March, two months later

Bronwyn

It’s my birthday today. I’m twenty-one, and officially an adult. It doesn’t feel fair that this is the milestone when I’ve been doing adult-like things for years. I’ve fought for my life, independence, and helped commit murder.

I also finally claimed my inheritance left to me by my grandfather.

Those all should mean something when it comes to being able to call yourself a ‘legal’ adult.

Shaking off my thoughts, I walk into the floral nursery after my therapist appointment. I’m attending twice a month now, with a new person. Greg found Dahlia and I someone we can freely speak with, and his name is Norbert Burns.

As old fashioned as his name sounds, he’s in his late thirties, has a dry sense of humor, and never flinches from my truths. Dahlia seems to like him too.

The nightmares we’ve both been having since January have been dissipating as well. I’m not having any of the actual killing, but the moments in between. They’ve been twisting until I believed we didn’t kill Gareth at all.

He was hurting Dahlia in unspeakable ways in front of me, and then he killed me in front of her. I still get them on nights where I’m exhausted, but the period in between is growing longer. Thank God for that.

I know Jack has to be happy about that. He worries a lot.

This morning, I got official orientation paperwork for my social work masters, and I’m celebrating. I got the initial acceptance earlier, but there’s something about having something in my hands that says I got in.

Taking a deep breath, I walk through the aisles, looking for something specific.

Dahlia mentioned that the apartment felt really barren, and I have to agree with her. I want to buy an already potted container of dahlias, which will hopefully brighten our living room. The ground is finally starting to thaw out now, and Greg is having a team out to Gareth’s mansion to find Lucia.

My girl has been having a lot of thoughts about this, including whether or not her aunt or brother need to be notified in New England. I bet neither of them have thought about Dahlia in years.

I’m honestly surprised that Amelia hasn’t made a trip out, since it’s been months since she’s heard from her. If I went missing, I hope the world would scream over my disappearance.

Jack has been working with a realtor, but it hasn’t been going well. The man is obsessed with security even now. Can’t change him, so I’ll just continue to love him. Is there any reason for him to worry?

Not really. Crazy people exist everywhere, though, and that’s what he’s latching onto.

Last I heard, there was talk of building a safe room. I seriously checked out after that point.

Grinning as I find a few different pots of dahlias, I try to decide which one I want. I’ll need to walk it to my car, but after that, Jack will help me bring it up. It’s nice to have someone with muscles around that I love.

He’d probably complain if I tried to do it on my own anyway.

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