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“Jesus, Leighton.” Rylan’s safe. Rylan’s alive. Leighton, on the other hand… “I told you to stay in the closet.”
“Yeah, and I told you I loved you.” She sits up, her hospital gown bunching at her thighs. “Love means never letting go. It means doing anything and everything for the other person. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t save Milo. I saved both of you, though. And that’s something.”
My head starts to pound. The meds, the surgery, the mess that is my life. It’s too much.
I’ll spank her raw once we’re back home. Until then, I just nod. “Thank you.”
Leighton nibbles on the corner of her lip. “What are we going to tell the police?”
I watch her. The dark rims around her blue irises. Her cute nose. Plump lips and soft cheeks.
What am I going to tell them that would both keep her safe and wouldn’t end terribly for Rylan?
Excusing this whole situation as an accident would come back to bite the three of us in the ass. Rylan wouldn’t get help. Not in the long haul.
Leighton would be in constant danger. I sure as shit wouldn’t be able to work, let alone sleep.
It’s time to do right by my daughter. I’ll make sure to put her in trustworthy hands with a doctor I know. I have someone in mind. A man I’m sure would never betray her secrets. Even the clandestine ones. I’m sure, because I hold on to some of his.
“We’ll tell them this was attempted suicide.” My eyelids are heavy. I won’t stop talking. I’ll rest when I’m done. “That she came over as a cry for help. I fought her for the gun so she wouldn’t hurt herself. She thought I died and that set her off. That’s what we’re going to say, understood?”
“Yes.” Leighton shifts, setting me back into a lying position. “That way, she’ll be locked up somewhere they can help her, right?”
“Clever girl.” Exhaustion takes over me. Before I doze off, I reach for Leighton’s hand. “We’ll be okay, little doll. She’ll be okay. From this point on, you won’t have to worry about anything. I’m here.”
EPILOGUE
Leighton
“Five…Your limbs are getting heavy…”
Instead of keeping them closed, I blink my eyes open at the sound of my husband’s voice.
He climbed out of the pool of our glass home while I was catching up on some much-needed rest on one of the lounge beds. While our daughter, Ebony, naps in her crib, the sunshade protects her fifteen-month-old little body.
Marcus towers over me. Water drips along the planes of his ripped body, cascading over the toned muscles of his chest. Wetting the three tattoos he has on his bicep, and along the scar on the lower left side of his stomach.
He’s silent as he places his hands on his hips. As his gaze casts from our Ebony to me. His large frame blocks out the sun. It’s not like I need it anyway. I’d rather drown in Marcus’s darkness over sunbathing any day of the week.
Matter of fact, if this man is all I’ll ever see, I’ll never complain a day in my life.
“My limbs are pretty heavy as is,” I tease, twirling a pink lock around my finger. His nostrils flare at the move he likes so much. “You’re wasting your talents on me.”
“Never.” The slightest of smiles curves his lips up.
The dedicated father he is, Marcus walks over to Ebony’s crib. He bends to check she’s not too hot out here. Even though I did just that five minutes ago, I don’t mention it. I adore watching him fret over our baby.
“We love making Mommy tired, don’t we?” He picks the blonde miracle who’s turned our lives upside down. She giggles, her chubby palm reaching out to pat him on the nose. “Yes, we do. She looks so pretty when she’s sleeping, doesn’t she?”
I hold back a giggle. Who would’ve thought this man was so into baby talk?
“Ma-ma,” our girl answers him. “Ma-ma.”
He chuckles, and his features morph for her. His endless love and dedication for Ebony soften his expression.
When he kisses her forehead, he’s the man I remember from years ago. It’s the same way he looked at Rylan. The same way he still does on their video calls. Or when we visit her in the mental hospital in Seattle, Washington, where she’s been admitted for a year and three months now.
The police detectives weren’t easily convinced by our version of the story. They asked us to repeat it over three times before they let it go.
