One
Alex
I wish for the storm on the horizon to roll in as I watch Dane’s casket being lowered into the ground. This is it: a folded flag in his wife’s trembling hands, a three-gun salute that startles his daughters, and the fucking wheelchair that commenced his demise. His life is now over. Done. Forgotten before half the mourners have left his gravesite.
I’m mad—I’m downright fucking furious—but more than anything, I’m sad.
This wasn’t him. That chair they placed at his gravesite is a mockery to the man he once was. They should have let him leave this world standing tall and proud. They should have been the rod in his spine when it was wrongly removed from his back. If they had done their job, I could wake up from this nightmare. I could see his smiling face and smell his taco-laced breath. Instead, I bend down to gather his youngest daughter, Addison, in my arms, the complexity of the situation lost on her since she is only two.
She blows raspberries on my cheek before giggling at my beard tickling her chin. It’s a beautiful thing to hear on such a dark and dreary day. Her girly squeals and talc-powder bottom pulls me out of the tempestuous place I’ve been huddled in the past five days. I thought those eight minutes Dane and I spent hunkered down in the field all those years ago would be my darkest time. I had no idea.
I’ve lost agents before, men above and below me, but this is different. Dane wasn’t just an agent. He was my friend. My brother. The mischief-maker who ensured no task was ever mundane. I might not have survived the academy if it wasn’t for him. I saw rules and protocol. He saw adventures and opportunities. We were the same, yet so completely different.
I stop reminiscing when a flash of silver catches my eye. Kristin smiles before handing me a tiny shovel. When I remain standing frozen, fucking lost, she jerks her head to the hole in the ground that will now be forever known as Dane’s final resting place. I shake my head when she attempts to remove Addison from my arms.This will be easier if she stays.
I don’t need to tell Addison what to do when we reach her daddy’s gravesite. She digs the pointy end of the shovel into the dirt the pastor uncovered ten minutes ago before tossing it into the hole.
I expect her to continue shoveling, but she surprises me by dropping the shovel to her side before launching herself into my arms.Maybe I didn’t give her enough credit? Perhaps she can feel the sentiment in the air?
“Good girl,” I praise her when her big blue eyes seek approval from mine. “You did great.”
And now I must do the same.
It takes another twenty minutes for each member of Dane’s family to say their final goodbyes. I’ve never understood the ritual of shoveling dirt into a grave. I get that it’s symbolic that man was born of this earth and has returned to this earth upon his death, but shouldn’t the person who has passed be forever carried in our hearts? Why must this be it?
Recognizing that standing graveside at my best friend’s funeral won’t give me the answers I am seeking, I hand Addison to her mother before heading to the procession of funeral cars tucked in the bottom far corner of the graveyard. The further I travel, the more my focus shifts from one heartache to another. It’s been five days since I’ve seen Regan. Five days of unanswered calls, five days of unread messages, and five days of letting my anger fester to the point of being unhealthy.
She is the cause of the fury slicking my veins, the reason I can’t numb my feelings. I need her, but instead of standing beside me as I face my darkest day, she stays at his side, protecting him, sheltering him.Choosing him.
I understand she’s mad that she caught me in a lie, but I can’t fix the mistakes I’ve made if she refuses to talk to me. I guess I should be grateful? Maybe she’s staying away to save me more heartache, because she doesn’t want to come clean. I’m not the only one at fault here. I did wrong, but so did she.
If she had talked to me instead of running, I could have explained the documents she found on my computer. I could have shown her that I never used our relationship as a means to get to Isaac. Then perhaps, also, I could have proven Isaac isn’t who she thinks he is.
Regan sees what she wants to see. I know the truth.
I was trained to see fact through fiction. I was taught the difference between a man clamoring for power, and one who takes it. I know a criminal when I see one. Isaac Holt is a criminal. He is an immorally unlawful man who blinds people’s morals with fancy credit cards and apartments above their pay grade.
I thought Regan was smart, that her beauty was her second most valuable asset, but right now, peering up at the ugly gray sky that won’t free me from pretending the wetness on my cheeks isn’t tears, I’m beginning to wonder if I knew her at all.
I told her I loved her, but she never said it back. So why am I praying for a miracle as I dial her number for the fifth time today?
Another crack adds to my already crumbling heart when Regan’s velvety smooth voice jingles down the line: “You’ve reached Regan. You know what to do.”
I hang up.
No message left.
No pleas for understanding.
Nothing.
Two
Alex
It’s cold today. Winter has been and passed, but Arlington, Virginia, failed to get the memo. The winds are so brisk, I won’t be surprised to see Dane’s old sedan covered with a thick layer of snow when we make our way back to the parking lot.
“Come here, Addi. You’ll freeze if you don’t do up your coat.”
