Page 46 of Perdition
She’d chosen a very strategic place, too, for that first cut.
Right beneath the carving Mads had made that beautiful, starry night so many years ago, back when they were so young, so bright, so hopeful. Right through the lie, the broken promise, the faith of a betrayed little girl who’d hoped and dreamed and loved so purely.
With Tim Noches’ help, they determined how Em would make the first cut—at which angle to determine where the top of the tree would fall.
She hadn’t hesitated, fueled by her husband’s words pounding through her skull, by Sarah’s words scraping her insides. Once the chainsaw she’d borrowed from Cheri had bit into the tree, she let it eat.
She kept going, following Tim’s directions as three of his men stood around, watching, waiting to get to work at dismemberingthe tree once it was felled. They’d cut the tree into smaller pieces, load it into a dump truck, and transport it to the clubhouse.
Because there was no better place for a bonfire.
It had taken six hours to cut down the tree, dig out the trunk using a backhoe and chain system, and then excavate the roots which had spread deep underground, feeding and nourishing a tree that had become a symbol of something that had once been just as alive and vital.
But was now decaying, diseased.
This was a culling. An execution.
And she was the one holding the axe, covered in sticky sap rather than blood.
Now, as the sun began to set over the mountains in the distance, Em sat on the grass facing where her dreams had once been planted. All that was left of the red maple was a heap of brown dirt flecked with bits of shale dug up from the compressed clay.
It was empty, the look out, now bare and naked and vulnerable against the elements that would batter it. The tree, though only twenty-four years old, had been a refuge for small animals, a break against the wind, a calm and cool respite against the summer sun, and a silent, slumbering sentinel in the winter, when the branches were leafless but cloaked in cool and white and glittering snow.
Em didn’t give herself a chance to mourn that red maple, because mourning what once was was pointless. She’d already cried enough over the last couple of days. Her head ached, her eyes burned, and the skin on her face was chapped from wiping away the tears.
She needed to get up off the ground, to move, to wipe the debris from her ass and get back into her car and move on to the next step.
It wasn’t enough to just remove the tree, it needed to be burned.
It would be a statement, one Frost couldn’t ignore.
Rising to her feet with a groan and a grunt—she was too old and chubby to be sitting on the ground—she cursed when her phone rang.
Both wanting it to be Frost and really hoping it wasn’t, Em was surprised to see Cilla’s name on the screen.
“Hey,” Em answered, not really in the mood for conversation but also looking for any excuse to remain right there, in that place, in that spot…for just a little longer.
“Hey, Em,” Cilla chirped happily.
Ever since she’d finally gotten her man, Cilla had blossomed. She was happier, always humming, and never seemed to let the past get her down—even though the past hit her in the face whenever Stallion was around.
“What’s up?” Emily asked, brushing loose soil and bits of dead leaves and sticks from her butt.
“I know it’s last minute, but I was wondering if you’d like to join Stephie, Nadia, and me at my place for dinner and wine. Val might come, but she’s working on a project with a deadline, and Redtube probably wants her all to himself once she’s done—so, more than likely, we won’t hear from her.”
Em snickered. Val was a freaking delight. Snarky, sassy, hilarious, and insightful, the woman was the perfect match for the sexy, arrogant yet adoring Redtube. Once a social media thirst trap with an explosive following, he’d given it all up for Val.
That was the kind of sacrifice people told stories about, that little girls built their princess and prince, happily ever after fantasies on.
I thought I’d had that, too….
Closing her eyes to push back those thoughts, Em replied, “I’d love to come. What should I bring?”
Em, though she had a perfectly wonderful house to sleep in, was currently staying at Cheri’s and Cheri was a freaking delight. Cheri had a “date” that night and wouldn’t be back until late, if at all. If the man she’d was meeting, whom she met on Tinder, was any good, she’d stick to him until morning. The woman had a voracious appetite, and if she found someone who could feed it, she used him up until he had nothing left.
She was praying for the man’s stamina, because Cheri was worth it.
But Em didn’t want to go back to empty house.
