“You should sit down.” Jonah lowered himself fully to the ground, settling in the dying grass. I numbly followed his lead. “Bend your head between your legs. Breathe in as much as you can.”
“I don’t think…” The breathing part had become impossible. Hell, all of this had become impossible. And in the middle of scrambling for a basic need, I worried about how I looked. How I was nowhere near worthy enough to be considered a pillar in our community and possibly never could be after this. Because Nico and Jonah now knew the truth. Who was to say that once these floodgates opened, I’d be able to close them once more? Now that the perfect facade had been shed, reapplication was infeasible.
“Even a bit counts,” Jonah assured and showed me by breathing a quick breath. “Just try to go a little longer with each inhale. Copy me.”
I mirrored his breathing, holding in and huffing out through parted lips. Nico joined in, sitting on the ground and placing his head between his legs as if he’d been on the brink of collapse, too. The three of us sat in an empty cemetery, yards away from our dirt collection, doing calming breaths.
A point of center emerged, and I grabbed hold. Jonah smiled when he heard the change in my breath. I sucked in air more deeply and for longer.
“That’s good,” Jonah encouraged, smiling wide and proud like a schoolteacher on his last day.
“I…I’m sorry.” My eyes burned, but tears would truly be my final straw. I would see myself out of everyone’s life if I cried on a case.
“Don’t apologize,” Jonah said while Nico hit me with a “Why?”
“I’m not who I need to be.” I went to stand up, but Nico grabbed my elbow and pulled me back down. My tailbone stung, but he didn’t look apologetic in the slightest.
“And who’s that?” he asked, but the creasing around his narrowed eyes told me he already knew the ins and outs of that answer.
“Jones,” I said simply.
The name’s a weight. It held up doors. Broke down walls.
It kept me pinned underneath.
“I know my opinion’s not worth much—” Jonah started.
“Holy shit.” Nico sighed. “Enough with the self-deprecation. Did you two plan on sending invites to this pity party? Or is it more of a private gathering?”
“It’s not pity,” I said.
“Seeing you like this is far more inspirational than seeing you talk on stage,” Jonah said quickly. “Or recalling all the cases you’ve closed. To know that you’ve done this while feeling fear is…you’re who you should be.”
His words are an ointment that my scratches don’t react to, but I tucked the compliment in between my vicious inner dialogue to cushion its blows. We breathed a little more together. Wind weaved through the trees above us, another participant in the exercise.
“This doesn’t fit anymore. This job. All the digging and fixing. It fits less each day,” I finally confessed out loud to myself. Jonah’s brow wrinkled, not following. But Nico’s gaze ducked, understanding. It was the last thing he wanted to hear because it was a threat to everything that’s kept us together. “I want it to fit, though. Why can’t that be enough to make it work? Why can’t things…stay like they’ve always been? I don’t want to want something else.”
Hunting was always everything. But the idea of slowing down and living like a civilian started to become more appealing each day that went by. Except what if even that wasn’t enough? Could staying still fill the void hunting would leave behind?
“Are you up for finishing this first?” Nico asked, still unable to meet my gaze, afraid of my response. “Or are you stopping here?”
“I’m not leaving Octavia,” was the first thing that came to mind, so it was the first thing I said. I’d dry heave my way across the finish line to make sure everything at Elmwood was safe for her. Make sure Elmwood was enough for her.
“Good.” Nico produced a lopsided smile. “Let’s focus on Elmwood. Worry about the rest after.”
“How long will it take?”Octavia hopped out of her truck. December climbed out right after, rolling up her sleeves. We’d picked them and the RV up before heading back to the ranch.
Despite the horrors that clung in the air, Octavia barely paid the house a second glance. Her steady voice became a stable ground for me to find my bearings. I stuffed the cemetery’s panic attack deep into the earth.
“Thirty.” I opened her truck’s bed. “Forty minutes, top. Put your hands and feet in this first.”
I dusted my hands and shoes with the dirt. Everyone followed my lead, staining their skin. December gagged twice, but other than that, there were no objections. I snuck a look at Octavia, impressed by the determined hard line of her mouth. She barely blinked, adding an extra coating.
“For protecting us while we lay the rest down?” She looked up, a brow quirked up a little at how my eyes were already on her.
I nodded. “Exactly.”
“December and Wilson filled me in on wards,” she said.
