Page 55 of Flashback for the Forward

Levi scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “All I’m trying to do is get you to take a step back and look at the bigger picture.”

“And what’s that?”

“That she needs more than just you. She needs therapy. She needs freedom.”

As much as I hated to admit it, he had a good point. But I was still kinda pissy that he’d come in on his high horse, so I spat, “How would you know what she needs?”

Chest lifting on a deep inhale, he admitted, “Because Arizona’s been through some rough shit too.”

I knew his wife had a past when the truth about her being Austin’s biological mom came out last spring. Since it wasn’t any of my business, I didn’t press for more details. Now that it had been brought up again in conjunction with Bridget’s current situation, I was curious.

“Austin’s dad?”

I’d purposely kept my question vague, but Levi knew what I was asking.

“Yeah.” His jaw tightened. “The bastard’s dead and gone, has been for over a decade, but that doesn’t erase the memories. Especially not when there’s a living, breathing reminder.”

Bile rose up my throat. When I’d come face-to-face with Bridget’s abuser, he’d mentioned his quest to get her pregnant. Thank fucking God he hadn’t been successful before she could make her escape.

With a fist closing around my windpipe, I rasped, “You think I should let her go?”

His gaze softened. “What I think is you need to consider the fact that in playing the savior, she’s become solely reliant on you. She deserves to have the opportunity to stand on her own two feet.”

Fuck. It made me sick to think I’d caused more harm in trying to help her.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I whispered, “I love her.”

A hand came down on my shoulder. “You know what they say about loving someone.”

Unfortunately, I did. But as confident as I was that Bridget was my soulmate, that we were meant to be together, I was terrified to let her go again, for fear that this time it would be the end of us forever.

In the end, I needed to put my own feelings aside and do what was best for her.

That’s what Russ would have wanted.

“Oof.” I crashed to the hard ground with a thud, the air heaving from my lungs upon impact.

I hadn’t climbed a fence in a while, but I used to be good at it. Apparently, not anymore, as evidenced by my less-than-graceful landing. I was damn lucky not to have broken a bone, which I would have had a hell of a time explaining to the Surf medical staff.

When the team arrived back in San Diego, I didn’t care that it was the middle of the night; I drove straight to the cemetery. Of course, when I got there, the gates were locked with a sign prohibiting visitors after dark.

Undeterred, I shed my suit jacket and began to shimmy up the metal barrier. As I straddled the top, things went sideways—literally. The soles of my dress shoes were smooth, offering very little grip, and when I pushed off with my back foot, I slipped, taking a ten-foot plunge back down to earth.

Rolling onto my stomach, I got onto all fours and pulled in a few shallow breaths before standing.

It was pitch black, so I used the flashlight on my phone to navigate my way to my best friend’s grave.

Reaching Russ’s final resting place, I traced over where his name was engraved onto the headstone. “Hey, bud.”

With a heavy exhale, I knelt.

“I know what you’re thinking: ‘What the hell took you so long?’ Somehow I got it into my head that if I didn’t see where you were buried, then I could believe that none of this was real. Which is dumb, because obviously, I know you’re gone.”

Tears burned behind my eyes as I picked at a blade of grass.

“Fuck, I miss you every day.”

Lifting my face to the sky, I blinked furiously.