Her voice cracked, and her whole body shook as emotions poured out of her.
I wrapped my arms around her, squeezing tight. Any frustration I’d felt at her leaving the bleachers and the lake vanished. How could I accuse her of breaking her promise when I would have done the same? Had done the same. She’d come because she thought they had me, just like I’d come when I’d realized she was in danger.
Instead, I focused on the relief that came from knowing we were all alive. That we’d survived. This was over. Chelsea would never hurt her again.
The ambulance had shown up while we’d all been pointing fingers at each other, and when Bugsy started to load Chelsea into it, Maisey pulled away from me. I tried to grab her hand and stop her, but she just jerked away, stalking over to her sister.
Seeing Maisey approach, Chelsea started screaming. “Get away from me. Get the hell away! I lied before. I do hate you. Hate you and your ugly face and the way everything in your life was handed to you on a silver platter.”
I was right behind Maisey and started to say something, but one scowl from her had me biting my tongue. She turned back to Chelsea and said, “I just want you to know that you didn’t just fail at killing me tonight. You failed yesterday too. Dad isn’t dead. He’s alive. He’s awake and asking for me. Not you. Me. Because you’ve never really been part of our family. You always made me feel like I was broken.” She stopped, swallowed hard, and then continued. “But the truth is, you’re the broken one, Chelsea. Broken inside in ways far more twisted, more ugly, than my jaw ever was. In hindsight, fixing me was easy. Fixing you…” She shook her head. “That will be a different kind of pain, and I’m not sure you’ll survive it.”
Then, my girl turned on her heel and walked away from her sister.
My dog leaped after her, running in ecstatic circles, as if the last few minutes of terror had never happened. As if he hadn’t been snarling and howling, ready to kill someone just moments ago. I wanted to be able to do the same, to forget. To leap around Maisey like an idiot, proving my love. And I would. I’d be just what Delilah had said—a lovesick fool. But before I did, I needed to get something off my chest.
So, I stepped closer to Chelsea, her beautiful face twisted with agony and hatred and just a flicker of fear that I rejoiced in.
“You’re going to jail, Chelsea. For life.” My voice lowered, deepening with emotions as the truth of the vow I made ripped through me. “You wanted fortune and fame? Well, I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure your name and your storyneversee the light of day. That you don’t get one ounce of infamy out of what you did to her, to your family. You’re going to die, and no one is going to care. No one will remember who the hell Chelsea Campbell was. I’m going to make it my life’s mission to make sure not even Maisey spares you a thought. I’m going to fill her life with so many happy memories she won’t have time to even wonder about you. Enjoy your stay in a federal prison.”
As I walked away, Chelsea gave a horrific scream, and my mood lightened, pleased I’d done exactly what I’d intended—given her a dose of pain that wouldn’t disappear anytime soon.
? ? ?
Maisey was exhausted and hurting by the time we were able to leave the ranch—bone tired, swaddled in bandages, and still smelling of gasoline, even though Fallon had brought her a change of clothes when she’d finally made it down to the barn.
In addition, Maisey’s throat had become raw and scratchy the longer she’d been forced to repeat what had happened and answer stupid questions. I wasn’t sure if the rawness was from the smoke, the stress, or if the combination of everything had weakened her immune system and allowed that virus that had been running through Swift Rivers to finally claim her. All I wanted to do was to take her home, tuck her into bed, and keep her there for a week. But instead, she’d demanded I drive to the county hospital so she could see her dad.
It was well past visiting hours, and our smoky, dusty appearance coated with the smell of gas didn’t bode well for the nurses letting us into Lewis’s room. But after a call from Cleaver and the doctor, they reluctantly relented.
The television was on, and Lewis had his eyes on the screen, but his mind seemed elsewhere.
“Dad,” Maisey called.
His focus shifted to her, and he started to smile until he really took her in. “What happened?!” he demanded.
She ran to him, sat in the chair beside him, and brought his hand to her bandaged face. “I’m okay. I’m okay, Dad. Better than you. These are just some scrapes that’ll heal in no time.”
She’d needed stitches for the cut on her biceps, but leave it to Maiseyto downgrade her own injuries so she wouldn’t worry anyone.
“Why do you smell like gasoline?” he demanded, the worry on his face growing.
“It’s a long story…but I swear I’m okay,” Maisey told him, fiddling with his blankets.
Because I knew she needed a minute to get her emotions in check and decide exactly how much she was going to tell her father, I intervened by asking, “How are you feeling, Lewis?”
“Fine, fine. I’ve been telling the doctors and nurses for hours. I was just worried when no one would let me even talk to you.” He patted Maisey’s cheek, tears pooling. “I thought… I thought something bad had happened, and they just didn’t want to tell me.” He scanned her again, his sorrow increasing. “I should have been with you, Maisey. Whatever happened, I should have been there.”
“Dad…” Her throat bobbed, and the look she shot me was full of helplessness. She was going to hurt him by telling him what had happened, and it went against everything in her nature to do so.
I squatted down next to her, hooking her free hand with mine as I faced her dad. “Lewis, they’ve caught the person who did this to you. It’s the same person who attacked Maisey outside the house and tried to hurt her again tonight.”
Lewis’s face turned dark. “Thank God, they caught them.” He shook his head. “I don’t remember anything about what happened to me. The doctors said you found me at the old watchtower at the ranch, but I have no clue how I got there.” His eyes landed on Maisey, taking in her obvious distress, and his face turned even grimmer. After several long seconds, he let out a resigned sigh. “Was it Chelsea?”
The surprise that rolled through me was reflected on Maisey’s face.
“Wh-why would you think that?” she stammered out.
“All of this started after she showed up unexpectedly with that slick actor at her side. The timing of it just felt off.” He looked away, toward the television screen, deep in thought. “And when I woke, I had this feeling…this thought that wouldn’t leave, telling me Chelsea was in a heap load of trouble.”