Page 32 of Written with You (The Regret Duet 2)
“I cannot believe you’re going to let her walk away scot-free. This has fraud and prison time written all over it.”
“Yes. Just what I want to tell Rosalee one day. My dad killed your grandparents, which ruined your mother’s life, led to your conception, then her death, and then I had your aunt put in jail for pretending to be someone she isn’t because she loves you. No, thank you. My conscience is currently full. Willow can take a number and wait for her spot to come available.”
“You didn’t do any of that shit though. People make choices, Caven. Willow made hers.”
“Kinda like the choice we made not to tell the cops about those pictures after the shooting?”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” he hissed. “We did what we had to do after he left us to clean up his mess. You think for one second we’d have the lives we do now if they knew what a sick fuck he was?”
“He killed forty-eight people. I think the general consensus is he was a sick fuck.”
Frustration seeped from his voice. “I’m not talking about this shit with you again. He’s dead. He got a fucking bullet in the chest. The whole fucking world can sleep better knowing he’s gone. The rest of it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It might for the families.”
“You know what? Fuck you. I’m done having this conversation. Your life is falling apart and you’re trying to take it out on me for decisions we made eighteen years ago. Go take your bullshit out on Ian. I gotta get back to work.”
I clenched my teeth. I wasn’t being fair. But with all the shit about the mall and Malcom coming back up recently, I was once again struggling with the decision we’d made not to tell the police about the pictures I’d found that morning after the shooting.
But Trent was right. That maniac was dead.
He ended the call without so much as a goodbye.
As I set my phone down, I attempted a sigh of relief, but there was no solace to be found in any of this.
Hadley…Willow…whoever… That woman had no rights to my daughter. But for all intents and purposes, I’d taken away her last blood relative.
I should have been celebrating, not feeling like an asshole. But then again, guilt was my forte.
I’d taken off over a week from work to stay at home with Rosalee, and each and every day, she’d asked about Hadley. I’d put her off by telling her that Hadley was sick. Christ, I didn’t know how I was ever going to explain this to her. Alejandra had been badgering me to tell her the truth, but I didn’t have the right words. I wasn’t even sure the right words existed.
Our story was too complex. Too traumatic. Too depressing. Too much for me to handle, much less my four-year-old daughter.
But it was the betrayal that I couldn’t seem to get over. Given enough time to mull it over, I felt like a part of me understood why Willow had done it. I’d lie, cheat, and steal my way back to Rosalee if someone tried to keep her from me. But I couldn’t get over the fact that she’d done it to me. A person she claimed to love. What a load of bullshit. Lies upon lies upon lies until the truth became an abstract concept. I wasn’t sure I would ever get over that.
But then I looked at Rosalee. And I remembered the terrified and bleeding little girl who told me that she’d forgive me.
My father had killed her parents and she’d forgiven me.
And there I was, fuming because she wanted to know her niece.
But fuck, she had not handled it in the right way.
After hearing what Ian had to say about the journals, I’d been too big of a coward to read all of them.
But I’d read one.
One about Willow.
According to her sister, they had once been best friends. Willow was the smart one. The pretty one. The kind one. The honest one. She made friends wherever they went but preferred the quiet of being at home. After the shooting, she diligently went to therapy and tried to drag Hadley with her. In her own words, Hadley referred to herself as the bastard of the family despite being a few minutes older than Willow. She was bitter that Willow had “had it easy” during the shooting. Angry that she’d found “ways to deal with the aftermath of that day at the mall.” And resentful that Willow was able to carry on with her life while Hadley was still stuck in that cabinet for years to come.
And all of this was just on paper. I couldn’t imagine how often she’d taken her emotions out on Willow. Or how hard it must have been to fight for a survivor who didn’t want to survive.
