I have no more tears left to cry for her, no more excuses to make for why she doesn’t care enough, or if maybe it was her relationship with my father that made her the way she is. I won’t spend any more days forming myself into a person I’m not to try and please her and gain an ounce of her unattainable affection. No, she is her own person, making her own way in the world. I am lucky enough to have found a familythat knows what love really is, and they are patiently teaching me how to accept it, show it, and believe in it. I no longer have to hold on so tightly to the ropes of my own family. The ones that were silently strangling and suffocating me for years, long before my life was almost taken by someone that should have also loved me unconditionally.
Charles steps into the room, arms crossed. Stoic, intimidating, and protective. His pinched, deep golden-brown eyes and wrinkled brow hold zero warmth for my mother. He is not only here for Remington, he’s here for me, too. He is claiming me as one of his own—a LeBlanc in his heart, if not in name.My heart pounds, trips over itself again thinking about my conversation with Renee in the garden. It feels like a lifetime ago. But after all we’ve been through, it also feels even more true today.
Running a strong hand over his light-brown stubbled beard, Charles says to my mother, who’s still frozen by my words, “Lainey has said her piece. It’s time for you to go.”
She stands, grabs her designer bag from the place next to her, and doesn’t look back as she marches out of the room. I don’t follow, try and say goodbye, or feel any of the guilt that would usually make me chase after her. For the first time in my life I know that the guilt and burdens placed in my soul over being a constant disappointment to my parents for everything I did have evaporated ... Because I finally understand that all along, I was never the problem.
52
Lainey
TWO MONTHS LATER
“Iwant to go see it,” I argue, my voice feeling strong and steady.
“Are you sure?” Remington rubs the back of his neck, his handsome face filled with so much love for me I could melt into a puddle right at his feet.
“Positive. Dr. Radack says that I am ready. I have tools to help if I feel like I am going to have a panic attack. My nightmares have gotten better. And most importantly”—I step into his space, wrapping my arms around his middle—“youare going to be there with me, right?”
“Of course I will, beautiful.” He reaches down, gently running his thumb across the rough, pebbled, pink flesh that scars my face. I swallow harshly, still getting used to it. To the new feeling, the look of it, but never wanting to let go of that special connection to Remington. I lean into his palm, placing a kiss on his wrist. My neck healed a lot better, but my jaw, my face will always bear the deeper and more obvious scars of what happened to me.
“I need to see it, please, Remington. We need to takethe next step, together.” My pleading eyes do him in, and he nods in agreement.
I wasn’t ready.
I don’t think I could have ever been prepared properly to see the devastation left by the fire that consumed the cute little house on our peaceful street. All the other homes on the block stand untouched, happy, whole. Where our place had once stood, now there is nothing but a charred lot of land. The torched skeleton of the house had been demolished, taken away weeks ago, leaving us with this depressing view.
“I’m so sorry.” I cling to Remington.
“Why are you apologizing for the sins of someone else? This is not your fault, Lainey, never was. That man will not ruin what we had here.” Taking my hand he leads me to the backyard and the towering oak trees that stand sentry over the little, sad green space left on our property.
We sit on the patchy, scorched grass under the trees, and stare right out to the street. Slow minivans and sedan drivers gawk as they pass our lot. Everyone in Fox Grove knows about what happened here and at the hospital. It won’t just be gossip that fizzles out after a week or so, it will be Fox Grove legend. This is not a typical, everyday, accidental fire—this was a crime scene, a near murder site. I am a walking miracle to have escaped the literal fingers of death twice. The feeling of Cal’s disgusting hatred wrapped around my neck wakes me up often, leaving me gulping for air, worried that I am trapped back in that hospital room with him. Only the comfort of Remington’s arms can chase the demons back to the darkness.
“There’s nothing left.” I breathe out. “I mean, in my mindI knew that, youtoldme that. But being here in person, seeing it right now,it’s real.”
“Yeah, baby, it’s real.” Remington slings his tattooed arm around me and pulls me to his side.
“Everything we had is gone.” Gasping with sudden realization I say, “All my journals!” Tears pool hot and unwelcome as I tuck my face into my knees. “I know it’s stupid to be so upset, and you lost even more than me. You lost a whole house you bought and had been working on for years.”
“Lainey. Look at me,” Remington demands. I give him my eyes ... my heart, my soul.
“They were just unimportant memories. I should be happy.” I wipe my face, feeling embarrassed.
“What happened in that house, that fire—nothing about that was happy. I have never been more terrified. I’d gladly burn everything I own a million times over to keep you out of any more flames. But you being trapped, us losing the home and all of the things we held precious besides each other, baby? You are allowed to mourn that. I am. Nothing about the journals was unimportant to you, don’t minimize them.” He reaches out to gently hold my face, slowly leans in, then reverently places the most delicate kiss against my jaw.
His words tear me apart.
They also fuse me back together.
I close my eyes as a breeze ripples over the early evening air, sending a chill up my exposed arms. Suddenly a gentle weight presses down on my lap. When I open my eyes, my hands reach for my heart before they go for the gift that Remington has just given to me.
“How?” I barely let the word leave my lips.
“I didn’t have it at the house. Couldn’t let you see it until I was done.” His smirk is so handsome and enchanting. “You might not have all of your journals, but you have this one.”
This one.
It’s the palest lavender, my favorite color. A creamy, soft leather cover that is embossed with one single, large flower—a peony.
