Page 217 of Burning Daylight
My gaze lands on my father, something unsettling rolling around in my gut.
There’s still something sinister happening in this town, and my dad is far from innocent.
I can’t help but think about the fables that Beverly used to tell us when we were kids. About how the foundation of this town was built on broken hearts and buried secrets.
Civil blood stains civil hands.
Who was she, really?
My spine prickles with anxiety when I think about how effortlessly she embedded herself into our lives, and I wonder if she was planted there on purpose, or if she was manipulated like everybody else.
Hopefully, she stays wherever she ran off to, and I never have to find out.
Roman’s hand slides over my thigh and rests possessively on top, squeezing. I lean into him, giving him the support he needs. He said he isn’t sad about his father’s passing, that he expectedit, but I know it still has to hurt. Especially since he didn’t get much closure, in the end.
Whether he admits it or not, he was thrust into this life without a choice, and knowing your father won’t be around to guide you would be a heavy weight on anyone’s shoulders.
But it’s like he said: sometimes we don’t get our happy endings. Sometimes the bad things win.
And life is life, you have to work through the shit that doesn’t go your way and figure out how to heal through it.
The minister finishes his speech, and there’s a somber feeling in the air. I look around one more time, and my eyes snag on someone standing off to the corner.
It’s a man. He’s tall, tan, and lanky. Sunglasses hide his face, and black hair that can be tucked behind his ears whips in the breeze. There are two others behind him. All three of them dressed in suits. Like they’re here for Marcus’s funeral, too.
I squint, trying to get a better look, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen them before. The man in front gives a short dip of his chin, and then he spins around and walks away, the other two following him like guards.
When I move my gaze to where his face was angled, it lands on Lance.
He’s staring after them, a frown on his face. Ginny is worrying her bottom lip as her gaze bounces between them.
I don’t miss how their eyes meet behind Art’s head.
My heart pinches tight, and the hair on my arms raises, but I shelve the feeling for now.
Today is a day of mourning.
Tomorrow, I’ll worry about the rest.
And I know I won’t have to do it alone.
Roman has half the reins to Rosebrook Falls now, after all. And secrets can only stay buried for so long.
Roman
TWO MONTHS LATER
We’re at the Round Table, Juliette tucked perfectly under my arm, her body relaxed and her cheeks flushed from the alcohol she’s been sipping.
Felicity’s perched across the booth, swirling a glass of wine while she listens to Alex rant beside her, flinging dramatic hand gestures.
“I’m just telling you,” Alex says, his voice rising above the guitar player crooning in the corner. “I need something with roots.”
Juliette scoffs. “You’ve literally lived here your entire life, Alex.”
“And?” He glares at her. “Maybe I’m getting tired of pretending to be someone else all the time. I want tobesomeone. Me. Alex Calloway.”
He drums his fingers on the table.
