This One Moment (Pushing Limits, #1)(43)

“I do,” she said.

Guilt wrapped around me tightly, squeezing the air out of me. Hailey had been here at least once since the funeral, while I’d stayed away like a coward.

She led the way to the two graves. My father wasn’t buried here. After what he had done, after all those years of abuse and secrets, I’d refused to have his remains anywhere near theirs. I had no idea where he was buried and I didn’t care. All I knew was that his parents had claimed his body. He wasn’t sharing the same sacred grounds with the people I loved.

A fresh bouquet of red and white flowers rested against a tombstone. Christmas colors. My sister’s favorite time of year.

My steps faltered. “I don’t even have flowers.”

“They won’t care about that.”

I nodded and let Hailey lead me to their final resting place.

In the days leading up to the funeral, I had been numb. Hailey’s parents stepped in to help with the arrangements. I didn’t even remember what Mom’s and Sarah’s gravestones looked like.

Releasing Hailey’s hand, I dropped to my knees in front of the two shiny black granite gravestones, sitting side by side. A million things that I wanted to say to Mom and Sarah jostled around in my head, but the boulder-sized lump in my throat blocked the heartfelt words.

Hailey knelt next to me. And for the first time in forever, I didn’t feel so alone. For the first time, the loneliness that had consumed me all these years curled up in the corner and gave me some space.

I could finally take a breath.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, looking between the two gravestones, doing my best to keep the memories at bay.





Chapter 27


Nolan


FIVE YEARS AGO

The cop car was sitting outside my house when we arrived, my sister in the back like a common criminal. Except she wasn’t the one who had done anything wrong. That honor went to my * father.

None of the street-facing windows were lit up. So unless my father was in another room not visible from the street or was in the dark, he wasn’t home. Relief rushed over me, both bitter and sweet.

A voice in the back of my head whispered for me to turn around and drive. Drive as far and as fast as possible and never look back. But I couldn’t leave my sister. I was f*cking nineteen years old and had my whole life ahead of me, but I had to stay until I was better able to protect my family—or until my father kicked me out.

Doing my best to hide the anger hot inside me, I parked my car in the driveway and raced to the cop car. The storm had since passed, the last rays of the sun peering through the clouds. The officer opened the back door of his vehicle and Sarah hurled herself at me, knocking me back a step. I wrapped my arms around her, her clothes wet like my own.

“I was so scared, Nolan,” she said, her body shaking, and she started crying again. I couldn’t tell if it was because of what happened or because she was relieved to be home. More likely a combination of both.

“It’s gonna be okay.” I almost choked on the lie. “Thanks for bringing her home.”

The cop nodded. “Any word yet from your father?” He sounded concerned, which made my lie seem much worse. He didn’t care that my father had disappeared to get drunk. He was concerned that something bad had happened to him.

He was the only one to share that sentiment.

I shook my head, unwilling to add another layer to the lie. At least my reply was the truth.

I peered at the neighboring houses. Until now my family had never caused as much as a raised eyebrow. My father would shit bricks if he thought we were the cause of neighborhood gossip. But maybe he should have thought of that before ditching Sarah.

“Have you tried calling him?” the cop asked.

“Why don’t I take Sarah inside and get her warmed up?” Hailey broke in, handing my phone to me. I mouthed “thank you” before unlocking the front door and letting them in.

“No. I didn’t have a chance to,” I told the cop. “Other than when I called 911, I was on the phone with my sister the entire time. I mean, other than while I was driving or changing the flat tire, and then my best friend”—I gestured to the house—“was talking to Sarah.”

“Fair enough.”

I got the hint and called Dad’s number. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to answer or not. If he did answer, chances were good I’d have to lie to the cop about where my father was. He’d probably driven to the bar to pass time while Sarah was in her dance class and had lost track of the hours. It was too much to hope for that tragedy had struck him down and we’d be permanently free of his torment.

After several rings the phoned transferred to voicemail. “Hey, Dad, where are you?” There’s a cop here, and I’ve got to sound like I’m worried about you instead of ready to kill you. “If you’re looking for Sarah, I’ve got her.” You know, in case you forgot all about her and need a not-so-subtle reminder of your parenting responsibilities.

I ended the call. “He’s not answering.” I tried to sound worried. I’m sure I came a hundred miles short of it.

“What is your father’s name?” the cop asked. “I can check if he’s been involved in an accident.”

I told him, and he called in to see if any accidents had recently been reported.