“Daddy . . .”
He shook his head, his face a mask of disappointment and shame. “I thank t’Lord your mama’s gone and can’t see this disgrace! Would’ve killed her if she waren’t already dead!”
His words hurt worse than any physical punch, kick, or hit to any tender part of her body, and she felt herself reeling from them, wanting to curl up in a tight ball until she could wake up from this nightmare.
“Don’t . . . say . . . that . . .,” she sobbed. “Please . . .”
“IT BE THE TRUTH!” he cried. “You shame her memory, Laire!”
“Please,” she begged him, hugging herself as tears fell down her cheeks in ceaseless streams. “Please don’t—”
“I know . . .” He started in a softer voice, then stopped, rubbing his chest with the heel of his palm. When he started speaking again, his voice was softer and more breathless. “I know you been with s-someone . . . so you best tell me who. Now. Right now, Laire! I’ll . . . I’ll h-head up to Buxton and I’ll force h-him to . . . to do right by you. If he’s a man with any . . . p-principle, he’ll . . . he’ll do right . . . he’ll . . .”
Don’t speak.
She shook her head back and forth, her tears falling in rivulets. She couldn’t speak. She wouldn’t. She would never, ever give up Erik’s name. No matter what.
“GOD DAMN IT, LAIRE!” he bellowed. “You speak to me! Who you . . . b-been with? First that . . . t-talk about . . . Brodie Walsh! Now this! You tell me . . . y-you tell me . . . where you b-been, you . . . lyin’ little . . . you lyin’ . . .”
His voice wheezed and cut off, and Laire looked up as he clutched at his chest desperately, his knuckles white as his fingers dug into the bib of his overalls.
“Daddy?” said Kyrstin in a panic, lurching forward to reach for him.
He stumbled backward, hitting a lampshade and knocking the lamp to the ground with a clatter. Grasping for the wall behind it, he knocked three framed pictures to the ground, shattering the glass. His eyes were wide and scared, his face paler by the second.
“Daddy? Daddy!!” screamed Issy, rocking her baby helplessly as their father slumped to his knees. “Call 911. LAIRE! CALL 911!”
But Laire couldn’t move, frozen with terror, sobbing silent tears as she watched her father—her beloved father—her only living parent—fall onto his side, hitting the floor with a loud thump that shook the little house.
“KYRSTIN, CALL 911!” screamed Issy, and Kyrstin, who was kneeling by their father, crawled to the end table, grappling for the phone.
Their father lay motionless on the floor.
And if he was dead, Laire had wielded the knife.
As that despicable thought flashed like white lightning across her consciousness, Laire fainted, smashing her forehead on the glass coffee table on the way down.
Chapter 14
When Laire didn’t show up to work on Friday night, Erik was disappointed to miss seeing her, especially after the mind-blowing night they’d spent together. But after reminding himself that they couldn’t easily get in touch with each other should she have to miss an evening of work, he decided not to indulge his worry and headed home early to spend some time with his mother, pack up for school, and get some sleep.
They certainly hadn’t gotten much last night, he thought, letting happy memories take over as he drove himself home.
After an hour-long nap, they had gotten up and showered together, touching each other, soaping and rinsing, their fingers sliding over each other’s bodies as they bathed and toweled off. Laire borrowed a shirt of his that just covered her, and Erik threw on some jeans before making a fire in his bedroom fireplace and lying down next to her. They talked and kissed, sharing plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas as a balm against their imminent separation.
When dawn lightened the skies, they stripped and climbed into his bed together, falling asleep for a few hours facing each other. Waking up with Laire in his arms was both miraculous and heartbreaking. Knowing that he would see her in November helped, but it seemed like an eternity. And yet, he wouldn’t trade a second of their sweet time together and promised her silently, in those sacred minutes of holding her quietly, that he would never love another as he loved her.
Still glowing, he picked up a bouquet of roses on the way to the restaurant on Saturday night, eager to see her. When she wasn’t at work again, he felt true misgivings and went to the kitchen to see Ms. Sebastian, politely asking her why Laire wasn’t working. With worried eyes, she told him that she hadn’t heard from Laire since she left early on Thursday.
That’s when Erik first felt icy panic seep into his blood.