Page 55 of Corrupted Union

Not anymore.

I’d find a way to breathe so much life back into her that sorrow had no place left to linger.

I closed the door behind me and went back downstairs, finding Alexander with his head in his hands at the kitchen bar.

“She’s not in her room. Where else could she be?”

His head shot up, brows knitting together. “Not there? I don’t know where else …” His eyes clenched shut with realization, sending a jolt of trepidation shooting down my spine.

“What is it?”

“Today is the anniversary of Ivy’s passing.” When he opened his eyes, they were bloodshot and glassy. “She goes to the cemetery every year on this day. I completely forgot …” He paused, eyes lifting to mine as though hearing my accusations again for the first time. He nodded, lips pursed firmly together with dawning acceptance of his shortcomings. “I can take you.”

“No. I’ll go myself,” I snapped. His time to play protector was over. “Just tell me where I can find her.”

* * *

The damn cemeterywas almost an hour outside the city, though I made the drive in under forty-five minutes. I swerved through traffic like a lunatic. I’d probably been flipped off a dozen times but didn’t care enough to check the rearview mirror.

Not until I spotted the Alexanders’ navy sedan parked on a narrow cemetery drive did my heart calm its erratic rhythm. Not far from the car, a lone auburn-haired figure sat among the orchard of marble memorials.

I parked behind her car. She had to have heard me approach but didn’t look my way, staring at the ground with a bottle of alcohol cradled in her lap.

“You here to fuss at me?” She didn’t sound totally wasted, which was a relief, but I had no doubt alcohol thrummed in her veins.

“Why, you want me to?”

“You probably should. I deserve it.”

I slid my hands into my pockets, remaining on my feet across from her. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m a selfish, horrible human being.” She met my eyes, undiluted shame staring back at me. She took a swig from her bottle, then rose to her feet. “You, Mr. Keir Byrne, are married to a murderer. Bet you didn’t expect that, did you?” She lifted her hands out wide as if daring me to be shocked.

I slowly stepped around the grave. “Somehow, I doubt that very much, little lamb.”

“Well, it’s true. Your wife killed her own twin sister. We’d only taken the training wheels off our bikes two weeks earlier. I got cocky and went off the curb, then dared her to do the same. She wassonervous. I knew she didn’t want to do it, but I kept at her, taunting her, telling her she would be a baby if she didn’t do it. I might have only been six, but I knew better. I knew we didn’t have our helmets on and that it was dangerous, but I did it anyway. The second her front tire went over, the bike went crashing to the ground. She went motionless, her head resting on that damn curb. I was so scared, I ran back down the street to get Mom from our front steps, but by the time we got back to Ivy, it was too late. She died alone on the street, all because of me.”

I knew we’d finally plucked away the last of her layers. This was what truly haunted Rowan. The festering wound eating away at her heart.

She’d carried that burden like a noose around her neck since she was six.

My fingers clenched with the need to ram my fist in her father’s face. I’d have bet every penny to my name that Alexander had no clue his daughter blamed herself.

As angry as I was, I had to force back the emotions. This was about Rowan, not me. When I didn’t comment, she continued.

“That’s why I couldn’t leave that girl alone in the attic. I’d already been responsible for one person’s death. I couldn’t live with myself if it happened again.” Her voice hitched on the last word.

I reached out and cupped her chin, lifting her face toward mine. “And you think I’m some kind of saint?” I spoke without emotion. Rowan was beyond coddling. If I had any chance of getting through, I sensed the only way would be through sheer force of will.

I took a step forward, and she a step back.

“I’ve killed people, and not even by accident. I ended lives intentionally without a shred of guilt.” We took another step together. “You think I or anyone else would look down on you for an accident that happened when you were a child?”

Her back finally met with a tall obelisk memorial behind her.

“You’re letting this go right fucking now.” I towered over her, a wall of menacing authority.

Her face crumpled. “Don’t you see? That’s what I’m afraid of,” she whispered. “That I’m finally letting it go. Today, for the first time in sixteen years, I forgot. Not until Dad reminded me did I realize it was the anniversary of her death.”

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