Page 59 of The Knight (Endgame 2)
“It would be better if something had,” I say, meaning it. “He didn’t deserve her loyalty.”
“He didn’t,” Will says. “But she had kids at home. Two girls. Twins.”
“Oh, Will.”
“Then the fucker went and got himself blown up. That probably would have been the best case for her, honestly. Except it came out that he wasn’t supposed to be in that supply store, that he’d been selling supplies and weapons to the locals.”
“Oh shit.”
“It shouldn’t have mattered to Karen. She should have still gotten full survivor benefits. Without the ability to adjudicate his case while he was alive, he would be considered to have died honorably—no matter what was uncovered after.”
“But?”
“But he slept with the major general’s wife. So the guy made sure he wasn’t just tried for dishonorable conduct, like would usually happen, but treason. There’s no statute of limitations on treason. He was found guilty—because he was—and there are special rules for espionage and treason.”
“So she didn’t get his benefits?”
“Even with two little girls at home, after living on base and moving around for years, living the army life, they got kicked out with nothing. No family either.”
My heart sinks. “So what did you ask for?”
“For him to be reinstated. The case will be reviewed by a board and overturned. Technically he’s guilty, but it never should have gotten that high. They shouldn’t suffer for his mistakes.”
“So she’ll get full benefits and you’ll still be sleeping outside of a shitty motel?”
“Doesn’t matter what happens to me.”
“It does matter. If you had asked for money, you could have gone to her, been with her.”
“And what? Pay her to be with me? Force her to do what’s best for her kids? I’d never do that to her.” He shakes his head. “Besides, the stain of treason would follow her everywhere. Her girls, too. It’s better this way.”
“You can still go to her. Now. She’ll have the benefits, whether she wants you or not, so she won’t feel obligated. You can be together.”
A short laugh. “I don’t know whether she was even interested in me. And like you said, I’m sleeping outside of a shitty motel. Not exactly good boyfriend material.”
“Is she here in Tanglewood?”
He nods.
My eyes narrow. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“Leave it alone, Avery. It’s done. She’s getting what she deserves, and I’m getting what I deserve.”
“And what do you deserve?”
“To be alone.” His nod has finality. “I only need to confirm it’s done with Miller.”
I press my lips together, unable to say goodbye.
He hesitates. “Are you…?”
He wants to know if I’m okay. Whether he hurt one woman to save another. “I’m good here.”
I set out to save my mother’s house, because I thought it was her legacy. Something she passed down to me in a final motherly act. It was a myth I believed because I needed it, the allure a burning desire for love, the threat a cold realization that love wouldn’t be enough.
In the end I’m left not with a house or a diary, not with any assurance of my mother’s love. Instead I have only what’s in front of me—the opposite of myth. I have truth.Chapter Thirty-FiveAs mansions go Gabriel’s home is understated. It doesn’t have a bowling alley, a skating rink, or an Olympic-sized swimming pool. No solid-gold molding. The elite of Tanglewood want more pomp and circumstance for their millions.
Instead the house has an unassuming front, two white columns the only adornment. Inside it’s spacious but dimly lit, giving the appearance of being cozy.
The library is dark, only embers in the fireplace. I cross the rug to where Gabriel reclines in one of the wide leather armchairs beside the chess set, his posture innocuously casual. You might not guess that he had bruised three ribs and punctured a lung in the house.
He refused a hospital, choosing instead to be seen by his personal doctor. A doctor who had warned me that our patient was particularly stubborn. Watch for shortness of breath, muscle weakness, fatigue. He probably won’t tell you when he gets tired, but he needs to rest.
He looks the opposite of tired, lounging with leashed power.
“Gabriel. Can I get you something?”
His eyes burn with accusation. “What did you have in mind?”
“Tea. A blanket.” I had known he would be angry, but I refuse to let him push me away. “It’s only fair that I help you heal.”
“If you think this is going to make me go easy on you, think again.”
“I know you’re mad about the fire,” I begin. “You told me not to go to the house.”
He leans forward, the slow movement his only concession to injury. “I’m not mad that there was a fire, Avery. At least I’m not mad at you. When we find Jonathan Scott, he’ll pay for that.”
“Damon hasn’t found him yet?”
The last I saw of Damon was at the fire. He’s been a man on a mission ever since. After decades of living in the same city, never speaking, Damon wants to kill his father.
