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She’ll need a lot of help, gobs of soul-searching, and a metric fuckton of therapy to rebuild her life.
Still, with her mother out of the picture, she’s finally free.
Destiny moves closer, and I wrap my arms around her out of habit.
“Will she be okay? Is there anything we can do?” she murmurs, looking at Meghan. Her sobs have finally quieted.
“I think so. We’ll let her tell the cops if she has any friends or family she can stay with. If she doesn’t, I’ll put her up somewhere safe.”
“God, Shepherd.” Dess shudders against me and I hold her tighter. “Even after all the horrible crap, I didn’t think she’d go psycho on her own daughter.”
“She tried to kill us over a damn contest gone bad,” I remind her. “Psycho is an understatement.”
“But the storm was kind of dumb luck. Do you really think she meant to kill us or just send a message?”
I smile because we’ve gone back and forth over the same question for days.
That’s my Dess, always thoughtful, even when some wackjob tries to off us.
“She certainly wouldn’t have minded if we never made it home.” I pause, lowering my voice so Meghan doesn’t hear. “Frankly, I don’t think she gave a fuck what happened as long as we were out of the way.”
When she looks up at me, there’s a gleam of pity in her eyes.
“I can’t believe I just thought Meghan was snarky and obnoxious all these years. Her own mother... Poor thing.”
I hold Dess closer as we watch an officer escort Meghan out of the apartment.
She’s so quiet now, but with the glossy, hurt eyes of someone who hasn’t processed their life changing in an instant.
“Here,” Destiny says, handing another officer her phone. He bags it and thanks her, telling her he’ll get it back to her as soon as possible.
We travel to the police station to give our statements, and then we’re free to go.
Adriana Cerva now faces a litany of charges ranging from assault, extortion, criminal stalking, attempted homicide, high seas terrorism, and intent to commit fraud.
As for Meghan, I already know Dess will be a friend wherever she can.
When we get back to my place—no question asked, we came back here—she looks at me. It feels like I haven’t slept in weeks.
After Molly comes flying over and we make it through a hundred mandatory licks and paw prints, we settle in on the sofa.
“So, now thatthat’sover.” The sound of her uncertainty lingers in the air.
I know the feeling.
Our future is still written on blown glass, and if we’re not careful, we could shatter it, but I want that future more than anything.
“It’s over,” I repeat, pulling her into my arms.
I kiss her nose first, memorizing every single one of her freckles that make her uniquely Destiny.
To hell with the age gap, she’s so young and fresh and light.
To think she’d even want to be with a man like me feels like living a miracle.
And if I’m lucky, I’ll worship that miracle every day she allows it.
“It doesn’t seem real. None of it.” She looks up at me. Blue-green eyes, that perfect shade of ocean glass. Freckles. Full lips. Gold hair. I could look at her face forever. “But what do we do now?”
