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“I don’t regret it. My parents aren’t even the least bit sad that they’ll get to keep their only grandchild in their own house,” I said and squeezed her again. “Nobody is mad at you, honey. Nobody blames you.”
“I’m so sorry, Van.”
“I knew who you were when I married you, Liz,” I said and laughed. “And I did it anyway because I love you. That was the case then. That’s the case now. Just because it hurts sometimes doesn’t undo that.”
“I wish I wasn’t this way.”
I chuckled. “I just wish we’d get to sleep again. You think that’ll ever happen?”
“No,” she said instantly. “She’ll be sixteen and trying to sneak back into the house after staying out too late with her boyfriend. We’ll both still be sitting up, wide awake, right here. Waiting.”
“Boyfriend. Dating. We’ll start her firearm training in the morning.”
“Can’t hold her own head up, but sure,” Liz said and laughed. “Firearm training.”
She smiled at me when she rose up that time, and I felt more alive in that moment than I had in days.
CHAPTER THIRTY
trista
I spent a good portion of the drive entirely zoned out after seeing Jersey that way. If Utah had said anything at all in that timeframe, I didn’t know about it. I cried for what felt like an eternity. I didn’t snap back out of that trance until he stopped the truck for gas. Really, I hadn’t actually noticed that we’d stopped for gas until my door was opening and it scared me enough that I nearly pissed myself.
“Come on,” he said and held his hand out toward me.
“What?” I asked looking around.
“I’m going inside,” he said. “And you’re not staying out here alone.”
“Right. Daddy Utah.”
He chuckled and shook his head when I did grab his hand for the fucking jump down from the cab of his truck.
“What are you planning to do with the names of those detectives?” I asked once I was walking beside him.
“Fuck if I know. Just figured whether it was me or New Jersey, somebody probably needs to do something about it.”
“Why?”
He looked like a question had never confused him more in his life.
“Why would you do something about it?” I asked.
Utah sighed. “How old was his kid?”
I suddenly hated this conversation. “Four. She was four.”
“Would you be able to not do something about that?” He asked. “Knowing what happened to a child?”
“But who is Jersey to you? I know why I’m here, Utah.”
“Were you just programmed from the moment that you were assembled to believe all men are heartless monsters who hurt others just for the sake of inflicting pain?”
“All people, really,” I said, trying desperately to ignore him essentially calling me a robot.
“What?”
“It wasn’t really exclusive to men being heartless monsters.”
