Page 12 of Finding Peace
I know the rhythm of his walk. Always been able to tell which of us is moving without looking. He’s outside finishing chores. Because even though our world nearly ended last night, the animals in our care still need us. Because without some of them, Abigail wouldn’t be in this bed.
Lawson and Jasper should be back any minute from their ride out to the ridge.
They left before the sun was up, wanting to get to Ethan, then to the ridge and back as soon as possible.
My mind wanders to what they had to do out there. But I try to stop my thoughts before they wander too far. Because I know what’s done needed doing. But memories of last night only lead to memoriesof my past, and before I know it, they feel like they’re playing out in front of me.
Then, the door to Lincoln’s room creaks open softly.
I look up, heart jumping, to find Lawson stepping in to check on her. I was so lost in thought I didn’t even hear him come into the house. His eyes go straight to her chest, and mine instinctively follow. Both of us memorizing its slow rise and fall.
“Any change?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head. “Still sleepin’. Her breathing is steady.”
Relief flickers across his face, but it doesn’t last long. He looks tired in a way sleep won’t fix. “Jas will be a bit,” he says. “He just wanted to shower. Then we’ll rotate. I made a pot of coffee downstairs if you wouldn’t mind fixing up some breakfast.”
I nod. “Everything at the Ridge go okay?”
“It’s done. No one will find him.”
“Law…”
“Hmm.” He hums in response, eyes moving back to Abigail.
“You okay?”
“I’m okay,” he answers softly. “We did what had to be done, and I’d do it all over again to save her.” His stare moves back to me, and I know what he’s doing before the next words even come out of his mouth. He’s doing what he’s always done. The same thing Abigail does when she looks at me. “Are you okay?”
Those three words land heavier than they should.
I glance at Abigail again. At the proof she’s still here. “I don’t know,” I admit. “But I will be.”
He studies me for a moment longer, and I know he sees it. Because why wouldn’t he? The ghosts stirring. The old memories clawing their way back up.
“Have you told her yet?” he asks gently. I shake my head, and his jaw tightens. But there’s no judgment. Only understanding. “Only when you’re ready.”
Only when I’m ready.
Being ready would mean opening a door I’ve spent the last eleven years bracing shut. It would mean telling her about my mom. It would mean telling her about him. About the first seventeen years of my life, and how anger lived in that house long before fists ever flew. About how one afternoon after school—one ordinary day in a long line of ones I desperately wished were different—everything cracked wide open.
It would mean telling her that Ethan wasn’t the first man we’ve watched Lawson kill.
Not out of spite.
Not out of cruelty.
Not because Lawson’s a bad man.
But because it was something that just happened while protecting someone who couldn’t protect themselves.
How do you tell the woman you’re falling for that sometimes, when things get quiet—when violence brushes too close—you still feel like that boy standing in the middle of his shitty apartment, realizing that no matter how hard you wish for your life to be something it’s not, it doesn’t make it so.
Abigail deserves the truth about me.
But she also deserves more than the version of it that still knots my chest and leaves me wondering if once she knows, if she’ll ever look at me the same way again.
“Will I ever be?” I ask genuinely.
