Page 113 of Resurrection

The silence between us is charged as I glare at her, considering every response I could give her. None of them change a damn thing, though. I’m still in here; she’s still out there. Offering her even a grain of hope is wrong. She can cling to her anger. Easier for her to move on.

“Don’t come again.” I stand and put the receiver on the holder.

She rises with me and bangs on the glass, but I don’t turn. I can’t. I’ll cave, sit back down, continue in this circle leading nowhere. Doesn’t end, doesn’t get better.

The guard peers over my shoulder toward Carys, but since the glass is soundproof, whether she’s saying something or has left doesn’t affect me. So tempting to check, one last glance.

Down the hall and through the checkpoints, my chest grows tighter and tighter the further away from her I get. When we’re at my cell, the guard closes the door, and I lie on my bunk, listening for the lock to click.

I can’t keep looking back, and I can’t let her either. The future we might have had is gone. The lock on the door tumbles into place. Given enough time, we’ll figure out how to exist without each other. We already did it once.

Chapter Forty-Two

Carys

The waves roll into the shore, and a breeze kicks up tendrils of my hair. I tuck them behind my ears and run my hand along Lucas’s back. He’s against my chest, snug in the baby carrier, fast asleep. There’s nothing like his skin, his breath wafting across the space under my chin built just for him. It’s a huge comfort to focus on him, to keep his happiness and well-being in sight instead of falling apart. The swishing of footsteps in the sand are familiar. The tread of those feet, the ambling confidence, could only be Jay.

“You all right?” He appears at my shoulder, a comfortable distance away.

“Just thinking.” A lot of thinking since I got back from seeing Finn. My mind is in a tailspin—has been since he left me sobbing in a heap at the FBI office. Every time I remember he’s in prison forever, I want to burst into tears or throw up. I’m on a roller coaster, and I can’t figure out how to get off. This tiny, little guy pressed to my chest is my stabilizing force.

“Yeah, I got that part. We’ve been here a few days now. You have a beat on what you’ll do? Are we going back next month? I gotta book the flights early to get the best deal.”

I shake my head. “No.”

Finn leaving me in the visitation cubicle stung, and I’ve taken time to process the rejection. Whether or not he likes it, I understand him.

Jay draws in a deep breath. “I don’t know exactly what he said to you—”

I give him a wry smile. “Nothing I wanted to hear.”

I half turn toward him, and the wind catches my hair again. It flies around me, but I don’t bother trying to tame the strands. “He thinks he doesn’t want to see me. Fine. He won’t see me. He can stew over my absence next time his visiting block comes up, and I don’t appear.”

Jay digs his big toe into the sand and squints, gazing over the vast expanse of ocean. His light-brown skin has grown darker these last few months here. “That’ll set him straight?”

A hint of a smile threatens at the thought of Finn going straight. “Probably not. But he needs me. He doesn’t want to need me, but he does. I know it. When we’re sitting across from each other, even in stupid prison, I feel it. He can have his month to cool off, to remember having me in his life is better than being cut off.” I cup my hands under the carrier to ease my back for a moment. “Just as long as doing this doesn’t kill me too.”

A squeal flies out the open sliding doors from inside. I glance over my shoulder toward the house. “Sofia is okay with the kids?”

“She does it all the time.” Jay shrugs.

My lips tip into an almost-smile. “She amazes me.”

He chuckles. “Sofia. She’s my steel magnolia. Nothing that woman can’t do. Lena is there too. She just returned from grocery shopping.” He puts his hands in the pockets of his dresspants and lets the silence envelop us for a beat. “I gotta pop over to the casino build soon. You tagging along or staying here?”

“I’ll come.” I rub another hand against Lucas’s back, and he makes a snuffling noise as he turns his head to the other side and snuggles in.

“Did you ever get confirmation about who killed Eric?” I say.

Jay shuffles his feet. “I can call Demid directly. Might stir things best left to rest. Evidence points to him.”

Do I need a confirmation? Maybe not. Eric is gone, and he paid for what he did to Demid and his family. He might not have admitted he had Valeriya killed, but I’m confident her baby was his. If he stood any chance of getting me back, he couldn’t let me see what he’d been doing. Doesn’t seem to matter. The truth always worms its way free.

“No. It’s okay.” I shake my head. “Finn was probably right about leaving that situation alone.”

Running a hand through my hair, my feet sink deeper, going from the warm, dry sand to the cool dampness underneath. “Sometimes I think Demid was the one who sent me the final box.”

“The confetti bomb?”

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