Page 133 of Ward Willing
I debate arguing with her, but I can’t possibly hold her back from this.
After doing a quick internet search, I see that it’s a legitimate program, so I sit back down on the bed and run my hands through my hair. The idea of spending the next thirty days alone is depressing, but I suppose I can go home now. Hopefully Captain won’t maul me once I’m through the door. He’s always been protective of Zoe, but I never considered he’d be protective againstme.
I’m packing everything up when my hand brushes against Elias’s letter for Carolina. Pulling it out, I sigh heavily.
I suppose I can make one pit stop before going home.
* * *
The drive through the canyon to Malibu is picturesque and beautiful. The sky is a bright, blue color, and the hills are green from the recent rain we’ve gotten. It’s a balmy sixty-five degrees out, so I crack the windows as I make my way up the winding side street near Zuma beach.
I’ve only been here a few times before, as whenever we had dinner together, she usually opted to come to us.
I park behind her car in the driveway and walk up to the large, modern house that overlooks the coast. Her letter is in my right hand, so I ring the doorbell with my left hand.
Carolina opens the door a minute later, and at first, she looks almost surprised to see me.
“Liam?”
Being almost ten years older than Elias, she was always a very competent big sister, and in that way, we always got along. We used to bond over being the oldest, over having to care for our younger siblings.
“Can we talk?” I ask her, rubbing my mouth.
She stands off to the side and gestures for me to come inside.
Once I walk into her house and she closes the door behind me, she leans against it and crosses her arms.
“I assume you’re here for the same reason Zoe came and saw me last night?”
I open and close my mouth. “Zoe was here?”
Carolina rolls her eyes and walks past me. “I’ll get us something to drink.”
She disappears into her kitchen, and I walk around the spotless living room. I smile when I see it’s mostly pictures of Zoe scattered along her bookshelf—Zoe as a baby, Zoe wearing a sweatshirt with Carolina’s law firm logo as a little girl, Zoe’s prom picture…
A pang goes through my chest when I think of not seeing Zoe for a month. Not hearing her low, throaty laugh. Of not smelling the sweet, powdery scent of violets, or the way she forgets to eat and turns into a hangry menace. Of not joking around with her, or watching her eyes roll whenever I inevitably say something in “elder millennial lingo.”
I clear my throat as Carolina walks into the living room, holding two shot glasses and a bottle of silver tequila.
“Bit early for that,” I mutter, intending to make a joke.
Carolina stares at me as she sits on one of the chairs facing the couch, and then she pours us both a shot before picking hers up.
I press my lips together and try not to smile as I pick mine up and shoot it back. I don’t wince—the burn feels good.
If this is what it takes for me to get on Carolina’s good side again, then so be it.
“What’s that?” she asks as she wipes her mouth, pointing to the envelope still clutched in my right hand.
“A letter from Elias.” Her face goes white as they dart between the envelope and my face several times. “You know, I assumed Zoe would go live with you when I found out about what happened,” I say slowly, sitting down on the couch opposite her. “You have a good job, a big house, and you’re family.”
Carolina doesn’t say anything—she listens, expression open. So I continue.
“But the day they went missing, Zoe called me in a panic. She was all alone—” My voice breaks, so I take a deep breath before continuing. “I went to go pick her up at her house and we formed a plan. We went to the police station, and we were told we couldn’t file a missing person’s report until it had been twenty-four hours. So, we decided not to tell you. We didn’t want to worry you.”
“Well, you know what happened after that. We all joined the search party, and then they found the bodies…” I swallow. “Anyway, I assumed you would get custody of Zoe. And then I was told it was me…”
“I’m glad it was you,” Carolina offers, pouring us both another shot. “As much as I love Zoe, I’m not cut out to be a mom.”
