Page 264 of Rosetti Family New York
The word is still visible, still there, but I scrub harder. I scrub until my arms burn.
Rafe watches me, quiet and steady.
He's there like he always is, and it means everything. He carries the weight of what he's done without complaint, without hesitation. As if ending Dale's life was simply another step in protecting what's his. And now, somehow, I'm what's his. I belong to a man who kills without remorse, who walks between worlds—the civilized one where we play family games and share meals, and the violent one where bodies are disposed of and blood is washed away.
Rafe doesn't try to stop me or slow me down, doesn't tell me to be careful with my hands or my heart. He knows better than that now. I work the brush in hard circles, more soap than water, and feel the determination in each stroke. Feel the months of doubt washing away with each dip of the brush. Maddy wasn't a junkie.Maddy didn't get herself killed. It took me a long time to figure it out, but I finally did.
"Lucas was working with the Callahans," I whisper to the grave, to her. "That's how they got into your accounts. It wasn't Ethan. He was trying to protect you."
Rafe stands back, watching me. Letting me have this moment with Maddy, with my memories. Letting me do what I need to do.
"They won't remember you this way," I say to her. "Not if I have anything to do with it."
I dip the brush again, but the water is already red and soapy, and it's hard to see through the foam. It doesn't matter. I keep scrubbing until my hands sting. Until the air burns my lungs with each cold, desperate breath.
Then I stop, look at my work. I don't say anything, just stare at the gray stone with the name TORRES carved deep. It's not clean, not yet. But it will be. I promise that much.
A single tear slips down my cheek, and I wipe it away before it can fall.
"You'll be remembered," I tell her. "Not like this. I promise."
Rafe is still there, a constant, quiet presence.
He doesn't say a word, doesn't have to. His support is enough. More than enough.
I breathe in, feeling my heart slow as the chill bites at my fingers. Lucas betrayed her. Lucas and his secrets.
I can almost hear Maddy laughing, telling me not to get so worked up. I can almost feel her beside me, urging me to finish what I've started. I smile, even as the tears threaten to fall again.
I work the brush with determination, my hands stiff from the cold. I feel a lifetime of weight fall from my shoulders as the red fades.
I set the brush down, the plastic handle slick and cold in my numb hands. I don't say a word as I reach for the envelopebeside the bucket. It's oversized, one of those manila folders that you see in the hands of someone about to serve you papers.
That's exactly what I'm about to do.
"I have Lucas's confession," I tell her, my breath visible in the icy air. "The bank records. Everything."
I turn to look at Rafe, and the strength in his eyes, in the set of his jaw, gives me the courage to keep going.
"To the newspapers?" he asks, and there's pride in his voice.
"Yes," I reply. "To the papers."
I clutch the envelope to my chest, feel the weight of the documents inside. Lucas's confession, everything I need to clear her name. To free myself from the guilt that I've been carrying since she died. Rafe nods, his approval as steady and unyielding as the rest of him.
The burden I've carried is already slipping away, like the frost on the tombstones.
"Thank you, Rafe," I say, not looking at him.
Not looking anywhere. Just letting the words fall.
"For what?" he asks, and it almost makes me laugh.
I shake my head, wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. I can finally breathe. I can finally let go of the past. Maddy's death. My guilt. The feeling that I'll never be enough. I set the envelope back down and reach for the brush again, but Rafe is faster.
He grabs it and holds it out to me. I don't take it right away.
"You sure about this?" he asks. "You don't have to—"
