Page 141 of Freefall

He waddles forward with the determination of a toddler who has absolutely no coordination. I smile and lift my camera again, capturing him.

Then I turn it back toward Luke, who looks like he's forgotten how to breathe. His shoulders fall, and his entire face lights up like every single hardship he’s ever experienced disappears the second he sees Emory. His eyes never leave her as she makes her way down the aisle.

I move carefully around the edge of the chairs, crouching just enough to catch the sun breaking through the clouds behind them. Emory gets to Luke, and he immediately scoops Rowan into his arms, kisses the top of his head, then hands him back to Emory’s father.

He lets out a shaky laugh. “You look…” He swallows hard. “Fuck, baby.” The words are barely more than a whisper, but I hear them, and I know Emory does too.

The ceremony is simple. There are no grand declarations or dramatic promises. Just two people choosing each other every time, no matter what comes their way.

When the officiant starts to pronounce them husband and wife, Luke doesn’t wait. He kisses Emory before she can even finish the sentence. A chorus of laughter rises from the crowd, and Daisy claps so excitedly she almost drops her flower basket.

By the time everyone makes their way across the property to the reception, the sun has slipped lower in the sky, painting the ocean in streaks of gold.

I don’t think I ever took Daisy for granted, but now I catch myself memorizing every little thing.

The way she wrinkles her nose when she laughs.

The way she absentmindedly slips her hand into mine when we're walking.

The way she hops when she's excited.

It’s been two weeks, and some mornings I still wake up expecting to feel leaves underneath me instead of my cotton sheets. I swear sometimes, I still hear TJ’s voice taunting me in my dreams.

You really don’t like being controlled, do you?

The memory makes my blood run cold, and I end up gasping awake, drenched in sweat.

His name has become another headline.

Local man Taylor James Vexley, charged with kidnapping, aggravated assault, and attempted murder. Held without bail, pending trial.

I try not to think about him anymore, not because I’ve forgotten what happened, but because I’m tired of giving him space inside my head.

Nate filled in all the missing pieces. He told me about Jackie. That night in high school. How he and Luke planted drugs in Taylor's locker when she was too afraid to come forward. They were seventeen. Scared and angry. Trying to protect someone who didn’t think anyone would believe her. It wasn’t right, but monsters rarely leave children with good choices.

My heart aches for Ella—a little girl who never asked to carry the weight of someone else’s cruelty. For Jackie—she was only sixteen when he took everything from her. Apparently, he had been blackmailing her into sharing custody for years. Her husband only recently found out and threatened Taylor if he ever showed up at their house again. The threat was enough to push Taylor to take revenge on Nate before disappearing. Now he's exactly where he belongs. This time, he'll be there a lot longer than three years.

“There you are, dear.” Gram’s voice pulls me back to the present. “I’ve missed you.”

I kiss her cheek, giving her a soft smile. I saw her a few days ago, but I don't say that in case she doesn't remember. “I’ve missed you too.”

She pats my arm. “I finished the last book in that Stalkers in the Gym trilogy.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Who knew boxers could be so sexy?”

I snort out a laugh. Apparently Emory knew exactly what she was doing when she gave Gram those books.

“Anyway,” Gram says, waving a hand. “I’m off to find a Malibu Bay Breeze. Who knows when they’ll let me out again.”

She disappears toward the bar, and I smile to myself.

Lifting my camera, I zoom in, and my lens finds Nate almost immediately. He’s dancing with Daisy, her little feet on top of his as he twirls her around. She's laughing so hard she nearly falls backward. He catches her before she can.

I snap the picture.

His smile is real. The kind he reserves just for the two of us.

My heart swells.

Three days after everything happened, Nate finally walked into the therapist’s office he had spent nine years avoiding.