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With the multiple trips to D.C. for the trials and sentencings, we hadn’t had much time to settle into a life together. I myself had struggled with letting Ethan out of my sight for something even as simple as him running to the grocery store because I’d been convinced Eric would send someone after him. Ethan had accommodated my need to be with him at all times in the beginning, but it had just been this past week that he’d finally put his foot down. He’d reminded me as he’d headed out the door to go fill out his paperwork at the hospital he’d gotten a job at, that he might not know for sure if I’d followed him, but that he’d be asking me if I had when he got home and since I refused to lie to him, he’d know the truth either in my answer or in my silence.
It had been the longest hour of my life and I’d spent all of it checking the app on my phone that would show me the location of Ethan’s phone. It was a concession he’d been more than happy to grant me.
As we’d navigated our way through the process of getting justice for Ethan, we’d had to make some decisions about our future together. Lucy had been a glaring sticking point because Ethan had been certain I’d object to the girl living with us permanently. And while I’d quickly divested him of that notion, it had taken a little more effort to smooth things over with Lucy. While she’d been relieved to learn that Ethan had started the process of becoming her foster parent with the goal of adopting her eventually, she’d been less sure about me. Although I’d managed to make amends with her just before leaving with Ethan for D.C., she hadn’t completely trusted me. I’d had no doubt some of that had been because of the struggles I’d still faced being around her once we’d returned to Seattle. I’d finally taken her aside and explained what had happened to me as a child and promised her that I’d get to a point where I trusted her just as much as I trusted Ethan. My honesty had gone a long way with Lucy and while she and I occasionally butted heads, mostly due to my overprotectiveness, we’d somehow managed to make our little group of three into a family.
Once things had been ironed out with Lucy, Ethan and I had needed to make some other decisions, namely where we would make our home. He’d been more than willing to stay in Seattle, but it had never even been a question in my mind. Ethan had needed to go home and home was San Francisco. He’d cried when I’d told him that, as had several members of his family when we’d video chatted with them later that night. It hadn’t taken more than a few days for me to get my stuff together since I’d pretty much been living out of hotels in the four years since I’d left Indiana. It had been Ethan who’d suggested I donate my grandmother’s house in Indiana to a charity for victims of domestic abuse since it was completely paid for and we didn’t need the money, so I’d done just that. Ethan had gone with me to Indiana long enough to get the only things I’d really wanted…the pictures of my brothers and sisters that my grandmother had put into frames and hung in our kitchen so it would feel like they were with us every time we’d eaten a meal in there.
I hadn’t done anything with my parents’ house after the police had contacted me to notify me of their deaths. Nor had I claimed their bodies. I’d simply told the police to treat them as they would any unidentified persons because that was what they’d become to me. A lawyer had contacted me a couple of months later, but I’d refused to accept the meager inheritance I’d been left as the only next of kin. I’d told him to give everything away, including the fifty thousand dollars my mother had taken from my trust to fund her escape with my father.
I was about to tell Ethan he’d do great at his first day on the job the following day when his sister, Eden, came into the living room. She did a little happy dance when she saw that her daughter was asleep.
“You’re a miracle worker,” she whispered to me as she reached down and took the baby so she could put her down in her crib.
I’d gotten along better with Ethan’s family over the months after we’d moved to San Francisco. It had taken me a long time to adjust to the sheer volume of people I was around on a regular basis, but they’d all been understanding once I’d explained my past to them. None of them ever pushed me to interact with them more than I was comfortable with and they never looked down on me like I should have just been able to get over my weird fear and move on. I’d gotten to a point that I could comfortably sit around a table with them for a meal or join Ethan’s brothers in the living room as they fanatically cheered on whatever favorite local sports team was playing. Ethan and I had even gone to a baseball game with the family a month ago. I’d been tense, but Ethan had worked it out so his family was sitting on both sides and directly behind us. I’d still spent an inordinate amount of time watching for threats, but I’d been able to relax enough by the end of the game to enjoy it. Ethan had been worried that a baseball game would trigger memories of the day of my attack for me, but it hadn’t. Maybe it was just easy for me to compartmentalize, but I’d put that day behind me…it had died along with my parents. Yes, the aftereffects still lingered, but I knew that with Ethan’s and his family’s support, they too would be a thing of the past soon enough.
