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“Taking King down will fix a lot of it.”
“Not if it costs you your life.”
I shake my head. I appreciate my father’s words. I probably appreciate them more than I’ve ever appreciated anything he’s said to me in my thirty-plus years.
But there’s only one way to make up for what I’ve done. Only one way to be worthy of Katelyn and ensure her safety.
I’ve had a lot of time to think about it while sitting around in that bomb shelter.
“Her name is Katelyn?”
“Yes.”
He eyes the tattoo on my shoulder. “Does it hurt?”
“Yeah. But not in the way you mean.” I hardly felt the needle, but now? The damned thing is ripping my heart out of my body, cell by cell.
“It looks shiny.”
“It’s a clear bandage. I can take it off in a few days. I need to moisturize it every day for two months.” Basic tattoo care that I know from a long time ago. I expect to be dead before two months are up, but at least Katelyn will be a part of me when I go.
Her name tattooed on my shoulder is all I want to take of her life. I want her to live a long and happy life. God knows she deserves it after what she’s been through.
She will find love again. How could she not? She’s the perfect woman.
“You never tattooed a woman’s name on yourself before,” he says.
“I’ve never loved a woman like this before.
“Then live, Trey.”
Dad grabs my forearm, something he’s never done before, at least not in my recent memory. My father and I aren’t touchers.
“Live,” he continues. “If not for your mother, if not for me, for Katelyn. Live for Katelyn.”
My father’s touch burns me, but not in a scorching or hurting way.
For the first time in a long time, if ever, I feel parental love coming from him.
And in that moment, I wish I could grant his request.
But I can’t.
“Dad, someday you’ll understand.”
“Damn it, Trey, I understand now! The problem isn’t that I don’t understand, it’s that I do. Do you think I’ve never done anything that I regret?”
“You haven’t done what I’ve done.”
The shred of doubt in my father dissipates. In that moment, I know he never touched a woman on that damned island. He’s telling me the truth.
“That may be true, but I’ve made a lot of mistakes as a parent. Don’t you think if I had done better, you wouldn’t have run off to King?”
“Don’t blame yourself, Dad. I don’t. Not anymore.”
“You did at one time. You did, and it probably was my fault. Partially. Sure, you were an adult. You made the decisions, but if I had made different decisions during your childhood, you wouldn’t have made the ones you did.”
“This isn’t your fault. And it certainly isn’t Mom’s. It’s mine. Only mine, and only I can fix it.”
He opens his mouth, but I shrug free of his grasp and speak over him.
“We can go on and on in this conversation. We’ve already repeated ourselves. I will take King down.”
“Then we’ll think positive, I guess. This doesn’t mean you have to die.”
I nod. I suppose there’s a minuscule chance I’ll live through it. What harm is there in giving my old man a tiny bit of hope?
My phone dings with a text. It’s most likely Katelyn. She woke up and wondered—
But when I look at the words, my heart takes a nosedive.
36
KATELYN
Pins are pressing into my skull.
That’s all I feel. Just pins—tiny sharp pricks that are sinking into my head.
The bomb. The hotel. Jed.
Luke. Luke coming to my room, making love to me.
I must be in bed at the hotel. Everything’s a hazy dream.
“You’re all right,” a voice says.
I jerk upward and open my eyes. Images are blurred in front of me. Who’s in my hotel room? Where’s my dog?
“It’s okay. I’m going to protect you as best I can.
The voice. It’s deep, but it’s not the deep voice I want to hear.
And I’m not where I’m supposed to be.
“Who are you?”
Already my skin is an icicle. This can’t be happening to me again. No. What are the odds?
“Where am I? This is the hotel, right?” The words. They’re not true. Already I know.
“This isn’t the hotel,” the voice says. “Someone brought you here.”
No. No, no, no.
This is not happening to me again. This cannot happen to me again.
Remember your strength, Katelyn. You got through ten years on that horrid island, you can get through whatever is going to happen to you now.
How I want to believe myself. But everything’s blurry. I can’t even see the person to whom the voice belongs. The voice that claims I’m going to be okay.
“Luke, I want Luke,” I say, closing my eyes once more. I can’t stand the blurred images anymore. I just want to close my eyes and escape from all of it.
