“And how do you feel about that?” His head tilts.
“Not great.”
“I’ve got to admire your honesty.”
“It’s all I have to my name at this point.” Not entirely true, but close. My evasions have nothing to do with honesty. It’s just the way it has to be.
“She’ll be back.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“But you don’t want to wait for her?”
“Nope.” I’d rather get to her now—away from this place so we can talk.
He falls silent, and we both turn, looking out at the sugar cane blowing in the breeze.
Just when I’m sure he’s not going to tell me, he sighs. “Usually when she’s upset she goes to visit our mother at the cemetery.”
Relief loosens my tight muscles, and I’m already plucking my keys from my pocket. “Where’s that?”
“Old Country Road, about a mile past Main. Can’t miss it. My mom’s buried in the fifth row on the left.”
“Got it.” I start walking, but he calls after me.
“Caden.”
I turn back. “Yeah?”
He gives me a hard look, one I’m sure brothers have been wearing since the beginning of time. “If you hurt her, if you make her cry, you’ll be forced to deal with Jackson and me.”
Since we’re being all open and shit, I state the obvious. “You know I can’t promise that.”
“I know. But you’ll still have to answer.”
“Fair enough.” Because it is. It’d be smart to stay away and do the job they’re paying me for, but I can’t. I need to make sure she’s okay. Her being upset did something to me, and I can’t let it go.
My fatal flaw.
I can practically see the path laid in front of me, along with the implosion at the conclusion, and I still can’t let it be.
Wyatt nods. “Just as long as we’re clear.”
“Crystal.” And with that, I go to my truck and climb in.
Fifteen minutes later, I spot her car parked on the side of the cemetery, just where Wyatt said it would be.
I pull up behind the vehicle and search the rows of graves before I spot her sitting on the grass, still bright and pretty in her dress. I shut off the engine and climb out without a clue of what I’m going to say.
I walk over, and she raises her head. It’s hard to see her face in the blinding sun, but she looks like an angel in her buttercup dress, skirt flowing around her, pooled on the ground, her dark sable hair glowing in the light.
Her lips part. “It’s you.”
I take a seat next to her. “It’s me.”
My body casts a shadow across her face, giving me an eerie slither of portent.
She wipes her hands across tearstained cheeks. “I want to be alone.”