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Closing my eyes, I try with all my might to imagine Mom as she would look now. There might be gray at her temples, lines at the corners of her eyes, and around her mouth.No, definitely.She'd have deep laugh lines after another fifteen years of filling the room with her bawdy laugh. I've never heard anyone laugh quite that way since, with their entire body.
I smile at the memory while a soft breeze stirs the hair at my temples. I can almost make myself believe it's Mom doing it. Like she's brushing my hair back with the tender touch I didn't get to enjoy nearly enough of when she was here. Comforting me the way she was so good at doing when I was younger.
“It's so unfair, and I know life itself isn't fair, but I didn't get enough time with you. I mean, I guess there's no such thing as enough time, really. You could have lived to be eighty years old, and I still would have wanted more time with you. But I feel cheated.” The thought tightens my chest until it's hard to breathe. It isn't sadness. It's anger. I'm fucking angry that somebody took her away from me–from us. Dad's never been the same, and only now do I understand why. He didn't just lose his wife. Somebody took her away, and he's spent every day since then clutching me tighter to keep the same thing from happening again.
I reach down, plucking a long blade of grass before trying to remember how to whistle with it. She taught me when I was little, but it's been too long since I've tried. All that comes out is a burst of air, which somehow stirs my anger again. “I don't want to forget the little things about you,” I whisper and start twirling the blade between my fingers until it blurs, thanks to the tears in my eyes.
The last thing I want is to break down weeping at my mother's grave, so I blink them back and wait for the wave of emotion to pass before speaking again. “Maybe it makes me think about when my baby will start forgetting things about me. It's scary. I never thought about that sort of thing before. Is this what happens when you become a parent? You start questioning the things you used to take for granted?”
I toss the grass aside with a sigh. “God, I wish you were here. I have so many questions, and I'm so scared. I know you would make me feel better, the way you always used to. I've never needed you more than I do now, and yet somehow, even though you've been gone all these years, you've never felt so far away. What should I do? Where do I go from here? I can't tell Dad about what Callum did—I'm honestly afraid he would kill him, or at least attempt to. That would cause more problems for him. And I don't want to tell Tatum, since she's already messed up enough over everything that's happened. She no longer needs knowledge of how crazy her father is, and the lengths he's willing to go to keep me at his side.”
My voice starts to wobble. Despite that, I continue since I need to get the words out. I need to let go of some of the weight dragging me down. “I feel like a terrible friend. I feel like an awful, ungrateful daughter. No matter what I do, somebody is always going to be unhappy. Is it too much to ask for everybody to get along and be happy?”
That sounds so immature. It's impossible for everyone to be happy, except this goes beyond that. “I don't know what to do, Mommy,” I choke out just before the tears start to fall. Hot, stinging tears that roll down my cheeks and drip off my chin land like heavy raindrops on the grass. “I just don't know what to do. I have to keep the baby safe—that's my biggest concern, but after that... I'm lost. I don't even know how to be a mom or if I'll even be a good one.” I sigh, “Did you ever feel that way?”
Her light gray headstone offers no answer, and neither does the singing of birds in the trees above. I'm alone. There are no answers. Just the wind and this heavy gray headstone in front of me.
It seems like all I can do is kneel here and water the grass with my tears, praying for answers to my questions. Answers that will never come.
CALLUM
Iknow that what I'm hearing isn't the alert beeping on my phone. There's only one reason for that alert to go off the way it did when I tested the software of the app, now flashing a notification across my screen. I know Bianca is not stupid enough to do something irrational, or at least I hope not.
Yet there's no ignoring the notification.Vehicle in motion.
I'm alone in the office while Romero digs deeper into the Ken situation, leaving me no one to growl at in frustration and disbelief while I open the app to see what the fuck is happening. There must be a bug in the app. Probably a malfunction or something because there was no way she would leave the house without bothering to tell me.
The blue dot moving across the map confirms my biggest fear. She's on the move, and she left without letting me know. No, that's not true–checking my messages, I see she sent a text.
Bianca: I'm going for a drive and will be back soon. Nathan is coming with me. Don't worry. I just need some air.
Because there's no air out by the pool or elsewhere on the property? Damn it, she should know better than this. After everything she's been through, she's going to drive around for no reason? And why the hell didn't Nathan tell me?
I'm out of the chair and on the way outside before there's time to think. This is not a situation where thinking is a luxury I can afford. I need to find her now. A call to her phone gets me her voicemail, which leads to me slamming the car door closed before sending gravel flying in my wake as I start the engine and fly down the driveway.
The dot is still moving. She's a few miles away. Where could she go in the early afternoon? What was so important she couldn't think twice before putting herself and our baby in danger?
I'm less than a mile from her when she comes to a stop… in the cemetery.
Some of the burning pain in my chest subsides, though not all of it. She went to the cemetery. “How am I supposed to protect someone who refuses to be protected?” I growl, hitting the gas when the light turns green. I follow the route to where my insolent, stubborn little bird decided she had to be today.
The lack of other visitors is a plus. There are no other cars besides mine and the familiar Corolla parked up ahead. I slow down to avoid being spotted right away. If she's in a jumpy mood, she might decide to run, and there's not much I feel less like doing than weaving through headstones to catch her.
Nathan looks like he swallowed his tongue when he spots me from his position beside her car. No doubt he remembers that broken nose–it hasn't been too long since I broke it. We'll have a talk later about reporting to me rather than making me chase Bianca around. This could have been avoided if he'd communicated with me. For now, it's enough to find out why she had to come here so suddenly.
There she is.
My heart thunders in my chest. She is kneeling on the ground, wearing a yellow sweater that makes her stand out against the blue sky and greenery. Might as well paint a target on her back and blow a whistle to attract the attention of anyone looking to hurt me by hurting her.
Any hint of anger evaporates once I see her covering her hands with her face. If an artist tried to capture the essence of grief, they couldn't do better than what I see once I climb out of the car and watch from over the roof. There she is, my little bird, crumbling under the weight of her pain. Her slumped shoulders shake with unfathomable emotion. Nobody needs to tell me whose grave she's kneeling at.
She can't know about my connection to Jessica's murder. She can't. Only Romero and I know about that, and we're still working with theories. There's no solid proof of who pulled that trigger. Still, my heart clenches in fear that takes time to ease. I'm being paranoid, imagining ghosts in the shadows. This isn't the time for my imagination to run away from me.
What would bring her here?That's a stupid question which doesn't take much thought to answer. She's missing her mother, probably now more than ever. There must be questions, along with fears and concerns, she doesn't feel comfortable bringing to me—or wouldn't if she was speaking to me, which she still isn't.
I've never carried a baby and was shamefully absent for most of Amanda's pregnancy. We lived under the same roof, but I was too busy building what would become my empire. I couldn't be bothered with doctor's appointments and shopping for furniture, aches and pains, or cravings. Tatum owned my heart the moment we locked eyes, however. Still, before then, I didn't think much about everything that went into bringing her into the world.
That's on me.That's something I will have to live with, along with so many other mistakes and oversights.
