Page 4 of Into the Light

“Yup.” I popped the p and pivoted back to fetch the last couple of boxes. Just as I was about to grab them, my dad’s hand gently landed on my elbow.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. I didn’t turn, didn’t budge. I just sucked in a deep breath, held it for a slow count of three, then let it out. A trick I picked up in therapy to handle those waves of crushing grief and sadness that sometimes hit me.

Swallowing, I replied, “I get it, Dad, but I can’t bring myself to trust Walsh. There are way too many gaps in the whole story around Ash’s death for me to just brush it aside.”

There was no note, and I knew Ash. He wouldn’t just leave me without a reason or explanation as to what he was doing. My brother was missing that night. My dad confirmed there were several people who saw Walsh leave and head in the direction toward the rock outside of town. Walsh refused to tell me if he saw him and what happened.

Walsh was a calculated man. Growing up, he was always the one with a meticulous plan and structure for the day. The fact he refuses to tell me where or what happened that night felt very suspicious. My dad had asked him many times over the months where he was, and even my dad had no clue.

I knew my dad was being honest when he said he had no hand in Ash’s death. I saw the sincerity in his eyes when he begged me. He’d shared that when Mr. Ortiz found out about Ash’s passing, the scheduled sit-down between our families got scrapped, and that was that. They were at each other’s throats, still acting like grown-ups throwing kindergarten-level tantrums with way more dangerous toys.

“You know your brother wants to tell the truth . . .” My dad’s comment earned an eye roll from me. I crossed over the lawn that had gone a bit overgrown in the last month. Ash had thought of it all, hiring both a housekeeper and groundskeeper. Last month, I gave them a long, paid vacation because I wanted to make sure going back to Isles was the right decision, and I needed some peace to figure that out.

“I’m done hearing about him, Dad.” Walsh danced around the topic of Ash’s death. He wouldn’t talk to Dad about it. He refused to confirm or deny his role. “I’m not the same person I was a few months back. If Walsh doesn’t want to open up, then I’ve got nothing to share with him.”

When I asked Walsh eight long months ago if he had any role in Ash’s death, he skirted around the topic, telling me he kept the promise he’d made, but that was all he could tell me.

I’d tried to call Rain to tell him . . . but . . . well, that whole situation didn’t turn out how I’d expected either. Through therapy, I learned I couldn’t change people or their actions, I could only control my reactions toward them. So I didn’t give Walsh the time of day, and stopped giving a fuck about Rain and what he was doing.

It felt like another betrayal, with Walsh and Rain both leaving me when I needed someone the most, the pain cutting deep each time. I was emotionally exhausted by it. I was tired . . . really fucking tired.

“Where are you living while you’re up there?” my dad asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“My friend Marissa helped me get a small apartment. It’s near where I was last year.”

Marissa was the one person who always called. Although she still lived with Pico in Isles, she was always there for me, checking up on me and making sure I’d eaten. It took a while for me to come around to letting her in, but once I started my healing journey, I invited her into my world.

Pico wasn’t allowed to be around me, for whatever reason, so it meant a lot that Marissa didn’t follow suit and still cared.

“You’re living with Maddy again?” my dad asked, which only prompted a laugh from me.

“God no,” I responded, and his eyes narrowed at me.

When Ash died, half the town accused my brother of murdering Ash while the other half thought it was what was in the police report—suicide. Both sides agreed it was my fault . . .and although I’d been working on removing that narrative from my mind, I still blamed myself because it felt like the only logical reason.

Maddy was on teamEmber was such a bitch to Ash, which led to his passing.

“After Maddy called me multiple times a day for weeks berating me about how it had been my fault for Ash’s . . . er . . . passing,” I mumbled. It was still hard for me to say death aloud. “I told her off for being a shit friend and roommate last year, so we haven’t been on speaking terms. I have no idea who or what she’s doing this year.”

It made me sad to think about Maddy. I honestly pitied her because it looked like she was going through a lot herself. I’d been there, I was there, but I also was trying to be a good friend, too. I would have never cast her aside like she had done to me.

“You should have told me, Ember,” my dad said, patting my shoulder, but I just shrugged away from his touch, avoiding his gaze.

“I’ve done a lot of things alone these last eight months. I’ve learned a lot about myself and the way our family works, and I am determined to end this shit bonfire tradition in Isles.” I shoved the box in the back of the car.

“I still have your other car, you know?”

“Sell it. I like this one better. It’s bigger.” It was a lie. Another string attached to Ash. I mean, technically, it was Rain’s, but it felt like it was part of my old life.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

“I am going to be living next door to Marissa. The one person who actually stuck around through all of this shit, so I’ll be fine.”

“And this Marissa . . . is she . . . part of the other world?”

I threw my hands in the air. “Come on, Dad, you can say their name, but yes, her boyfriend is part of the Cartel.” My dad swallowed, then offered me a quick nod.

“I gotta go, Dad. I’m just going to lock up, then head out.” I gestured toward his car, hoping he would take the hint and get outta here.

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