We reached the door downstairs, my heart pounding as my fingers circled the cold doorknob.
“Stop!”
We whirled around. Dad was coming down the stairs, and there was that pistol—in his hand and pointed right at us. Carson pushed me back against the door, shielding my body with his.
“No!” I screamed, struggling to knock Carson out of the way. “Dad, don’t do this!”
He came across the foyer, his arm shaking. “None of this was supposed to happen! You have to believe me, princess. I never intended for Cassie to die. For you—”
The gun went off, and I screamed, wrapping my arms around Carson’s waist. I expected him to slump down, to fall, and the terror of losing him was so real I could taste it on my tongue.
But he never fell. He only turned slightly, trying to force me away, and I didn’t understand why. Confusion poured through me as I managed to move to the side.
Dad lay on the floor, facedown. A red spot on the center of his back quickly spread. Lifting my head, I saw my mother standing behind him, holding one of his hunting rifles.
I sat on the front porch steps for the longest time, numb after answering so many questions. I’d learned that Mom had come home from the meeting and gone for the gun when she heard me scream upstairs. I don’t know what had been going through her head when she saw Dad pointing the gun at Carson and me, only that she’d reacted. She had immediately protected me. No questions asked. No hesitation.
People came and went, trying to talk to me, checking me over. The lights kept flashing. Blue. Red. Blue. So many voices crowded me. Activity was everywhere, even after they’d rushed Dad off to the hospital.
He had still been alive then, but now, I didn’t know. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I tried to make myself as small as possible. The police still had Mom separated from me. Carson had disappeared in a swarm of EMTs and police. Had they taken him to the hospital? Was he okay?
Out of the mass of people milling about, a familiar figure headed toward me, and I looked up, surprised that he was still here. Other than the bandaged shoulder, he looked fine.
“Just a scratch,” he said, dropping down beside me. He wrapped his good arm around me. In a daze, I noted that Dad hadn’t injured Carson’s throwing arm and ruined his future. “I have to go to the hospital, but I needed to see you first. Took a little convincing...”
I leaned over and kissed him deeply. “Thank you.”
He kissed my temple softly, whispering something in my ear that I couldn’t hear. Voices rose suddenly, and Scott appeared in the chaos, his face pale with shock as he strode toward us before being cut off by the police and led over to where they were questioning our mother.
A tremble ran through my body, and I twisted toward Carson, burrowing my face against his chest. What was I suppose to tell Scott? How were any of us going to get over this? What Dad had done, what he’d planned to do to Carson and me, was a bitter ash forming on my tongue.
If Dad made it out of surgery alive, I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know.
Carson’s hand ran the length of my spine, soothing in spite of the tremble that coursed through his arm. The tears wouldn’t stop, but beneath the sorrow, there was some relief driving them. The truth was finally out there, and maybe this would bring Cassie’s family some peace.
Maybe it would bring me the same peace one day.
He brushed the hair away from the side of my face. “It’s okay. Everything is okay.”
And it would be. Eventually.