Hope struggled in her father’s grip. “Jacob. This isn’t you. I know this isn’t you. You just need time to accept this.”
Accept?
Accept?
Fuck that word.
That motherfucking god-awful word.
Black wrath consumed me as I stalked toward her.
Graham clutched her close as if he could protect her from the pain she’d caused me. The pain I wanted to share with her. “I will never accept this. Never. Do you understand? There is nothing to accept. Life is not a gift; it’s a curse. Death is the gift because then the madness is over. You want me to accept that nothing is safe or sacred? That everything can be stolen at fate’s whim? Well, fuck that.”
“No,” she cried, unable to untangle herself from Graham’s arms. “I mean accept that they are gone. Grieve, Jacob. Remember, but don’t fight the truth. Don’t hurt yourself by refusing to accept that they’re dead.”
I spun around and walked away.
My tolerance was finished.
“Jacob!” Hope screamed after me. “Jacob!”
I didn’t turn around.
My ears were immune to her cries, and I steeled myself against every inch of agony she’d caused.
“Let him go, Little Lace,” Graham muttered. “Let him go.”
Breaking into a run, I did my best to outrun tragedy and persecution.
Tried to outrun the awful things I’d said.
The terrible truth I’d uttered.
Her broken heart.
My broken soul.
I tried to run from life.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Jacob
* * * * * *
ENTERING MY MOTHER’S house, I sucked in a breath at her lingering scent.
The smell of home and togetherness and family.
My eyes saw illusions and holograms—of her dancing with my dad in the living room, cooking us Christmas dinner, folding laundry in the sun.
Now, she was cinders and scattered in the wind.
Hope had finally left, dragged away by Graham.
My family had withdrawn into their grief.
I was alone.
Officially and totally.
Just like I always feared.
Just like I always wanted.
The past few days in the forest had solidified my resolution to leave. I was an oath keeper, and the time had come to honour my mother’s dying wish.
I no longer had to abide by my father’s.
I wasn’t bound to stay.
I was destined to leave.
Tonight, I would vanish.
Nothing trapped me here anymore. I’d said goodbye at Mom’s funeral. I’d left instructions with a local contractor to maintain the harvests, planting, and maintenance of my legacy and farm.
Cherry River would be cared for.
Forrest would be fed.
Grandpa John had Aunt Cassie and her family to care for him.
I was free to go.
Striding through the house, I ran my fingers over the couch and table, along the walls and pictures.
I touched it all, imprinted it all, because I doubted I’d ever see it again.
Entering my parents’ bedroom, the quicksilver moon revealed the three blue packages that’d been discarded into the dirt when Mom died. Someone had collected them and brought them here, into a bedroom that would never be slept in again.
The shiny paper was smudged and soiled. Areas of sticky tape came undone, begging someone to open them.
That someone was no longer capable of such a thing, and I had no right to pry.
My hands shook as I gathered them off the bed and hugged them close.
Gifts destined for one deceased parent from the other.
They didn’t belong in this world anymore, just like them.
Turning around, my eyes fell on the two books that were never far from Mom’s bedside. A blue cover and a yellow cover.
Two paperbacks entombing their love story.
They didn’t belong, just like the gifts didn’t.
Grabbing the books, and nestling them with the parcels in my arms, I left the house I was raised in and jogged over the field and up the hill to my place.
There, I placed the blue packages and paperbacks on my table while I shrugged off my filthy clothing, had a quick shower, and packed a bag.
Inside the duffel, I tossed mere necessities. A passport that Mom insisted I kept valid, cash, and a few changes of clothes.
Nothing else.
Nothing else was important.
Hope was gone.
My life here was over.
With a last look around my home, I slung on my bag, scooped up the gifts and books, turned off the lights, and scaled the steps of my deck.
The night sky was grey like human ash as I strode into the forest and kept walking.
My feet knew the terrain. My body knew the location even blind.
My thoughts were calm and cold as I entered the clearing where my parents’ dust had mixed and fell to my knees beneath the tree I’d carved our initials into.
There was no breeze tonight.
The sky hushed and hurting.
No owls, no mice, no life—as if it were all afraid of me.
With gritted teeth, I used my hands to dig a small hole.
A grave.
Once deep enough, I dropped the blue boxes into it.
One, two, three.
All unopened.
Curiosity gnawed at me to open just one.
But they weren’t mine to open, so I shovelled dirt onto them instead.
Next to that grave, I dug another, this one to cradle the paperbacks until they rotted and became nothing but memories.