Page 104 of Somewhere Without You
As for Jackson, I hadn’t seen or heard from him since that night in the garden. Turns out, the merger he’d been chasing with Max wasn’t something he wanted—it was something he desperately needed.
Bishop Enterprises was broke. So was Jackson. And when the deal collapsed, so did his company. He filed for bankruptcy, and shortly after, he lost everything—the house, the cars, and whatever else he wrapped his ego in.
His downfall opened the floodgates, as several women he dated before me finally came forward with allegations of abuse—claims too heavy for him to outrun.
With the law closing in, and a mounting stack of lawsuits tied to his shady dealings through Bishop Enterprises, Jackson did what cowards do best. He fled the country.
No one has seen him since.
Rita found a new family to work for—a couple named Lydia and Benjamin Edwards. They worked in television, owning and running several network stations along the California coast. As for Mia, she followed her aunt, taking on the role of caretaker for the couple’s young children.
I told them they were always welcome to visit, though I wasn’t sure if they ever would. Still, I meant it. Some people carve out a place in your life whether they stay or not.
Madeline McBride’s trial was scheduled for October. The night of the shooting, she was taken into custody without incident. She entered a not guilty plea, citing temporary insanity, but the prosecution wasn’t buying it and was determined to secure a first-degree murder charge.
I went to visit her in jail, at the resistance of both Dani and my sister. They thought I was crazy, and maybe I was, but I needed to see it through—not for myself, but for Logan. She refused my visits, and after several more failed attempts, I finally gave up. I didn’t know what I had expected. At the time I had wanted—no,neededanswers. Still, something shifted in me after that. I let go of the anger I’d been carrying—not because she deserved forgiveness, but because I did. Forgiving her meant I could breathe again. And in doing so, I realized I could forgive Jackson, too—not for his sake, but for mine. Life was too short to keep bleeding from wounds I refused to let heal.
The grief didn’t come in waves like people said it would. It sat with me, quiet and constant, like a second shadow. I carried it through the routines of my day, tucked beneath smiles and polite conversation, pretending I was healing—until the wounds left behind finally started to scab over.
I started spending long afternoons in the garden. It gave me something to do with my hands, something to care for. Danielle helped at first, but eventually, I preferred doing it alone. It felt more honest that way, more like a conversation between me and the silence left behind.
Another chorus of barks erupted as the rumble of an engine echoed down the drive. A small sedan I didn’t recognize pulled up beside my new white Impala, another gift from Grant and Katherine.
Danielle turned to look, and Henry hopped out of her lap.
“You expecting someone?”I asked, heading for the door.
“Not that I know of,”Danielle replied, following close behind.
Both the driver’s side and passenger doors swung open, and out stepped Georgia and Alabama Baker.
I paused, my hand on the doorknob, as they stepped into the sun, their presence as unexpected as it was unsettling.
“Well, this is a surprise,”I said, trying to mask my confusion.“What brings you two here?”
“We brought you a gift,”Alabama said, holding out a large fruit basket.“From the church.”
Danielle shot me a cautious look.“I’m gonna go check on the dogs,”she said, sidestepping the twins as they made their way over to us.
“Actually,”Georgia drawled, a mischievous glint in her eye.“The fruit basket is just a formality. Daddy promised Allie here a dog, and she was very eager to see what your. . .”She let her eyes sweep over the barn,“facility has to offer.”
Alabama, her steps light and eager, glanced at Danielle.“Are they friendly?”
“Most of them,”Danielle smiled.“They’re more bark than bite.”
As the three of them headed over to the barn, Georgia paused, glancing over her shoulder.“I’m glad to see you’re doing okay,”she said, a hint of softness in her voice.“Alabama and I. . . we’ve been praying for you.”
I smiled, lifting the fruit basket slightly.“Thanks, Georgia. That means a lot.”
Back inside, I set the basket down on the table. Danielle’s box of stuff was still sitting in the middle of the living room. I picked it up and carried it upstairs to mine and Katherine’s old room.
I had cleared out most of my things, but a few random items were still tucked away in the closet. I set the box down on the floor and wandered over to it. The door creaked open with the familiar stick it always had. I reached up and began sorting through the clutter. There wasn’t much, just old toys from when Katherine and I were kids and a cracked snow globe from a thrift store we used to frequent. Then came a few yellowing photos, edges curled, of me and Katherine when we first arrived at Gran’s—wide-eyed and awkward, trying to look braver than we really were.
But behind all of that, tucked in the very back, beneath a worn flannel blanket and a shoebox full of costume jewelry. . . was an old hatbox.
A lump formed in my throat.
I hadn’t seen it in years—but there it was, right where I’d hidden it, with Logan’s letters still inside. The ones I never read.
