Page 98 of We Are All Sinners

They have been leading me this entire time.

The girls all surround me, dancing around me as I let the tears fall.

Emily extends her hand. I take it, knowing she now knows all too well just by being near me. I hug her, and continue to dance, letting it all out. I let out hate, love, regret, and loss as I dance.

Ultimately, I find my way to acceptance.

In this life you are only given so much time. It’s not guaranteed that we all get to live out our lives, growing old with the one we love. We don’t all get a happy ending.

I can at least say that I know what it is to be loved. I have had the privilege to love someone with my whole heart and soul. Till we are ghosts.

I get to live out my love story knowing that I loved him with everything I had.

The ride home is long and torturous, not being able to tell Brixon that marrying him will have to be enough. I’m not going to hurt him anymore. Everything will happen exactly as it should. I will keep this to myself and allow him and our family this last bit of peace.

“Home sweet home.” He says sweetly, as Noah takes the last turn onto our street.

I sit up smiling as Jinx pops his head out from under the seat. He moves to Brixon’s legs, rubbing on them back and forth until Brix gives in and picks him up, setting him in his lap.

Chapter 33

Evie

Ibounce over the large metal table in my apothecary, finishing the last of the products for my special bridal boxes as I bounce and shake my ass to, “A Bar Song (Tipsy),” by Shaboozey.

I decided to take these last few weeks off from my work, other than finishing up wedding details. I snuck out this morning, letting Brix sleep in, knowing he is going to be pissed if he wakes up before I get back.

I have lovely boxes wrapped in purples, greens, and golds for my bridal party. I made some up for Savvy and the savage gang as my boys like to call them as well. I designed each one with their likes, dislikes, and chemistry in mind.

The black boxes with the white silk ribbons are already addressed to the last of the witches and Saints that I will neverpersonally get to on my list from the ancestors. I have created the perfect parting gifts for each of them.

I place the bottle of beard oil in the last of the black boxes to be sent out tomorrow morning. They should be delivered on the morning of our wedding.

I will hand out the pretty ones the night before the wedding since we have decided to spend our last night at my brother’s compound. We will have to separate when the night ends and not see each other again until I am walking down the aisle.

I put the finishing touches on the box and stack it with the others. I look at the mess, sighing. I spend the next forty-five minutes cleaning everything up, getting rid of certain leftovers, and bottling up the others. I continue to dance while I clean up my shop.

I have always loved creating new things with what I have learned while shaking my ass to loud music. It’s always made the mundane things that most people hate fun for me.

I finally finish, taking a look at the clock, it’s already six a.m... Time to load up and pick up fresh beignets and coffee to surprise Brixon with, after I drop off a few things at the church. I promised him that today would be his and his alone. Plus, if I get home before he wakes up, he will have no idea I snuck out passed all of our security detail at three a.m.

Day after tomorrow I get to marry the only man I have ever loved. I get to have my very own wedding parade, even thoughmy brother and Brix keep telling me it’s just not safe. I got them to give in and let me have this.

Brixon knows that there is only one thing about this wedding that I would never budge on, and that is our damn parade. It’s the way we do things here. It’s the celebration of a new beginning for a couple. It’s tradition, and I won’t give that up.

Even if I make it through this and live to be a hundred years old. I would never want to look back at what could have been. I want to look back and know I fucking lived every moment knowing it could be my last. I want to know that I left nothing undone. Including the letter I wrote early this morning.

Brixon won’t get it until they pick everything up from the church, where I will have it in my bag addressed to him.

I know that there is a possibility that I won’t be waking up with my husband on an Island the day after our wedding. If I do, then this letter will go into a box, and it will be there for when I do go.

I finish loading all the wedding accents for the flowers and pretty boxes into the back of the SUV. I look back at the back door to my shop, reluctant to lock it, knowing it could be the last time.

I decide to go back in, feeling a bit emotional. I look at all the beautiful things that I have acquired over the years, my gaze becoming fixed on one item in particular.

I look at the dagger hanging on the wall, sparking my memory of Brook. I could almost hear her cries when she realized she wasgoing to die. I can hear all of them. Begging for mercy, just like their victims begged for their lives.

They all deserved everything they got.

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