Written with You (The Regret Duet #2)(63)

However, it was the very last page of that album that ruined us all.

“Son of a bitch,” I breathed, tracing my finger over the blank spot where the final image of my parents alive had once been.

It was the picture snapped in the mall, literally one second before my father died. My grandfather had gone through hell and back to get that little disposable camera from the police for me and my sister. While that picture had provided me quite a bit of comfort on dark nights, knowing my dad had been happy until the very end, it had destroyed Hadley’s life.

“What’s wrong?” Caven asked, squatting beside me.

“He stole my picture.”

“What?”

I pointed at the empty space. “My picture. The one of my parents the day at the mall.”

His brows furrowed. “Are you sure it was there? You didn’t take it out or anything?”

“No. It’s always been right there. I took some of the other ones out to show Rosalee, but I never moved that one.”

“Why would anyone want to steal that picture?”

“I don’t know.” I dug my phone out of my back pocket and opened my photos.

It had been a long time, and I didn’t keep many photos of my parents on my phone, but over the last few months, I’d saved dozens of Hadley’s texts from over the years. Unfortunately, she’d sent that one photo more than anything else. Always circling the blurry woman in the background in various zooms and crops.

I found the image I was looking for and passed my phone to Caven.

There were some things that I would remember for the rest of my life.

How my mother always smelled like Gardenias and honey.

The sound of a gun echoing in a food court.

The feeling of being splintered in half the day I’d found out Hadley was gone.

The beauty of Rosalee bouncing in a sea of bubbles.

And no matter what happened to me from that day on, I would never forget the pure devastation on Caven’s face when he saw that picture for the very first time.

“What the fuck,” he breathed, bolting to his full height. He furiously pinched his fingers to zoom in on the screen. “What the fucking fuck?” On weak knees, he stumbled back, tripping over a river of clothes, barely managing to stay on his feet long enough to land on the edge of my bed.

“What is it?” I said, scrambling on all fours after him.

He never tore his eyes off the picture as he asked, “Is that the woman Hadley used to obsess about?”

“Yeah. Why?”

His hands shook as he finally lifted his shattered gaze to mine. “Because it’s not a woman. It’s Trent.”





CAVEN


“Do not open that gate for anyone, do you understand me? I don’t care who is on the other side. You don’t open it. I’m on my way there now. Pack Rosalee a bag, and if Trent or Jenn show up, I want you to call nine-one-one first and then me second. But whatever you do—”

“Don’t let them in,” Alejandra finished over the phone. “I understand, Caven. I promise. We’ll be safe.”

“Thank you. I’ll be there soon.” I hit the end button and raked a hand through my hair as Willow stood at the front of my car, explaining the situation to a group of police officers—men who were probably toddlers at the time of the shooting.

Not a single one of them did anything other than stare at her like she was a mental case.

I couldn’t breathe.

Trent hadn’t been at the mall that day.

He’d gone to work, picked up his paycheck, and then gone home to pack for our grand escape. There’d been bags for both of us in the trunk of his car to prove it. He’d been questioned by the police numerous times. We both had, and short of the Polaroids he’d specifically left out, I’d had no reason to dispute anything he’d said.

Besides, it wasn’t like the cops were out combing the streets for Malcom’s accomplice. Every single witness from the mall had reported that my father had worked alone.

Every single witness except Hadley.

His face was blurry in the image on Willow’s phone.

But it was him.

Absolutely, one hundred percent Trent.

He was wearing the purple soccer jersey he rarely took off, and back in those days, he’d kept his hair long, almost brushing his shoulders. The lower half of his body was obstructed by Willow’s father, but that was no woman.

That was my brother, and it scared the hell out of me because it made no sense.

Sheer adrenaline had forced my legs down Willow’s stairs and out to my car. My chest felt like it was going to cave in, but I didn’t have time for a heart attack yet. Not until I had my family in one place and could figure out what in the fucking hell was going on.

It was all lies upon lies. And while I didn’t believe Trent was capable of the shit that was going through my mind, I’d learned the hard way not to leave anything to chance. He was in the area and pissed at me. I wanted my daughter and Willow safe before I started the what-if game on why Trent had been at the mall that day.

Pressing the button, I rolled the window down and yelled, “Get in the car, babe!”

She broke the conversation mid-sentence, snatched her phone back from one of the cops, and started toward the door. She was cut off by one of the officers.