Page 47 of Defending Our Ever After

My eyes meet Dylan’s across the clearing, and I fall to my knees, gasping for breath as if, I too, had been shot.

I would prefer that over the sight of my little brother still holding his gun up, aimed at where Dad had been standing. I wish I had been strong enough to shoot my arrow and save Dylan the pain of his action, even if he made the right choice.

“Dad?” Dylan’s voice reaches me and my eyes cut back to where Trisha is pulling my dad’s body off of Eddie.

There’s no mistaking the relief I hear in the sob that escapes her.

“You’re alright. You’re going to be alright,” she says, sounding giddy as she quickly pulls a cloth and some water from her pack, rinsing blood off his face and neck.

That she doesn’t spare a glance back at my father should tell me what I need to know, but I can’t stop myself from going to check. I feel like Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders when I stand to walk over to my dad’s body.

I find that I’m relieved and numb when I’m certain he’s dead. That there won’t be any awkward attempt at trying to save him, not after what he’s done. That I don’t ever have to tell him I love him again, because, right now—that would be bullshit.

The only thing that’s weighing me down is knowing that Dylan is standing behind me, trying to come to terms with what he just did.

I reach forward to place my fingers against my father’s throat and dip my head down. The quick prayer that I say in my head is more gratitude than remorse. Maybe that makes me cold-hearted, but after a lifetime of him walking away from us, I feel like this latest betrayal absolves me from wasting time on him now.

“Julia?” Eddie says my name as Trisha helps him sit up and I turn my head so he can see my silent answer to his unasked question.

“Dylan,” I say, turning to him as he slowly approaches us. “Dylan, look at me.”

The harshness of my voice gets his attention and when he finally tears his gaze away from our father’s body, I have no idea what to say so I just wrap my arms around him. It seems like hours pass before he returns my hug, but I know it’s only been a moment.

“I don’t think I… I was aiming to the side when I pulled the trigger,” Dylan mumbles the words. “I was worried about the angle since you were between us.”

“Hush,” I growl at him. Our father dug his own grave, but I don’t know how to explain that to my little brother.

“Dylan,” Eddie’s voice sounds awful, but his next comments are cut off when Trisha starts to frantically sign something to him.

As she gestures to Dad’s body, I step away from Dylan to lean over our father’s corpse. He’s still on his stomach, with his head turned to the side; his unseeing eyes staring off into the woods, and I see that the red stains are coming from two distinct areas. One near his wrist and the other, from the base of his skull.

“Huh? Um, yeah,” Dylan’s somber voice reaches me as he moves to help Trisha get Eddie on his feet.

“Julia, was he shot twice?” Eddie asks me.

“Yeah, it looks like it. Dylan, I don’t think you killed him,” I murmur, spinning around as I try to figure out where the second bullet would have come from.

A movement in the trees has me pushing my little brother behind me and once again, I’m preparing my bow.

Chapter 17

Julia

“It’s me, Jelly Bean.” The tall man I had seen earlier, before my world tilted on its axel one more time, calls out as he steps through the trees, pulling his baklava down to his neck.

The calm tone carries to us, yet I can barely process the words, so stunned at the distinctive voice I never expected to hear again.

From the corner of my eye, I see Trisha squat down to lift up her discarded gun in the direction of the man approaching us and I wave my arms out before running toward him.

“Uncle Max!” I gleefully scream, trying to take in his face as I throw myself at him.

“Christ, Julia, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” my uncle says, squeezing me way too tight as his voice cracks. He looks past me, taking a deep breath before he continues. “Dylan, I know it’s been some time but…”

His voice cuts off, but it doesn’t matter, my brother is suddenly wrapping himself around us.

“Dad and your mom?” Max’s words are barely above a whisper as he asks about the rest of his family.

“They’re good, they’re back home. Um, that’s Eddie. He’s Dylan’s godfather,” I say, trying to figure out how to introduce everyone.

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