Chapter 25

Cole stares down at me as if I’ve grown a second head. He bends down, looking at the journal, but doesn’t try to take it from me. “What’s that?”

“Just a book.” I don’t know why I lie, but it’s the first thing that comes out of my mouth, so I go with it.

“You okay?”

“No, actually, I…I need to know something.”

“Okay.”

“What happened to your dad?” I blurt the words out.

He drops to the ground in front of me. “What?”

“Your dad. Where is he?” How much did Vera tell him? Does he know? Has he been lying to me? My world is crumbling.

“Um, I don’t know. He ran off when I was little. Why?”

I swallow. “Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t remember much about him, just that he was here one day and then…then he wasn’t.” He shrugs. “I was six at the time, so it’s basically always been me and Mom.” He pauses. “And Vera.”

I pass him the book slowly. “I…I’m so sorry. I think you should read this.”

His brows knit together as he turns it over. When he opens it, his eyes go wide. “Holy shit, is this real? Where did you find this?”

“It was hidden in a panel in the back of her dresser. We got another letter this morning with instructions for finding it.”

Without waiting for me to say more, he begins to read. His eyes scan the pages, finger trailing over the words. I know when he’s reached the part I’m waiting for because he stops. Rereads. Finally, he looks up at me, his face sallow. “They…she…they killed my dad?”

“Vera did,” I correct. “Edna wasn’t involved.”

“He was… He hurt her? He hurt my mom?” His dark eyes line with tears I hadn’t expected. Suddenly he looks so small and breakable, I can’t resist the urge to reach for him. He pulls back when my hand touches his arm, as if the move is just as unexpected for him as it is for me. When our eyes meet, I see the small boy he was back then, broken and hiding so much. I see that we’ve always had more in common than I realized.

He blinks and tears cascade down his cheeks, but he brushes them away quickly, setting the journal on the ground.

“Cole, I’m so sorry.”

“We don’t even know that it’s true,” he says, looking away. “We don’t know anything. For all we know, whoever wrote these letters planted this journal full of lies here for us to find.”

He wants—needs—to believe it, and I wish I could give that to him, but it’s in Vera’s handwriting. I would recognize it anywhere. “Maybe you should call your mom,” I suggest softly.

His entire body turns to steel at the suggestion. Eventually, he looks my way. “You mean I should ask her if it’s true? Tell her we know about it?”

I nod. “It’s the only way to know for sure.”

He pushes up from the ground, pacing. “How do I even…do that? How do I just ask her? How could I possibly bring that up?”

“Tell her we found Vera’s journal,” I say. “She already knows about the letters. We trust her.” As the words leave my mouth, I’m struck by how true they are. Throughout all of this, I’ve trusted not only Edna, but Cole, with everything I’ve uncovered. It’s only now I’m realizing that might’ve been a mistake.

He pulls out his phone, hands shaking, and I’m surprised when he puts it on speakerphone as the line begins to ring. Trust, along with a strange sort of gratefulness for that trust, slam into me, and unexpected tears sting my eyes.

“I can step out if you want some privacy,” I offer, though it’s the last thing I want to do.

He shakes his head but doesn’t get the chance to respond before Edna answers.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Cole opens his mouth, but at first, no words come out. He looks down, clearing his throat.

“Cole?” she says, obvious concern in her voice. “Are you there?”

He looks as if he’s turned to glass, and I’m worried that the truth of all of this will break him.

“Mom.” His voice cracks, and I stand up, moving toward him without volition. I slip my hand into his, holding his arm with my other hand. To my surprise, he leans his body against mine. “I need to ask you something.”

Her tone is more urgent now. “You’re scaring me. Is…is everything alright?”

“Did my dad hurt you?” He squeezes his eyes shut as he says the words, like they physically pain him.

The line is eerily quiet, then we hear her suck in a breath. When she speaks, her voice is shaky. “Where did you hear that? Why are you asking?”

“It was in the most recent letter,” he says. “The person said…” He pauses, thinking. “They said that Vera took us in because Dad was hurting you. Is that true?”

“I should come over,” Edna says. “Let me come over, and we can talk this through, okay?” I hear the truth in what she isn’t saying, in the hurried, panicked cadence of her voice. The journal was right. The sender of these letters is right. And they know terrible things, not only about Vera, but about Edna, too. Even if she didn’t kill her husband, she knew about his death and didn’t report it. She helped dig the grave.

“I need you to tell me the truth, please,” he says. “Right now. It can’t wait.”

Her next breath is ragged. “Cole, please.”

“It’s true.” He pushes out a breath, releasing me and moving across the room as he runs a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you lie?”

“Sweetheart, you were so young. I never wanted you to know or to look at your father that way. I didn’t want you to think badly about him. I didn’t want myself to think badly about him. I loved your father, Cole. I swear to you, I did. And we had you when we were so in love.” She hesitates. “But…eventually something changed in him. He lost his brother, your uncle. You’re too young to remember, but it was horrific. He started drinking, and…he changed.” She draws in a shaky breath. “I tried to get him help. I tried to see him through it, to stick around, but it became too dangerous. He put me in the hospital twice before he broke your arm.”

My entire body goes rigid as I watch Cole grow pale. “I broke my arm at school.”

“That’s what I told you when you saw the pictures years later,” she says. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I should’ve gotten you away sooner, but I was weak. I…Vera is the reason—the only reason—we survived. She got us out of there when I wasn’t strong enough. She made sure your father could never hurt us again, could never hurt you again. She is the reason we still have each other, and I will forever be grateful to her for that. You have to understand that I wish it could’ve been different. Leaving your father, lying to you, it was never what I wanted, but I know now that if we’d stayed, I’d be dead. And I hate to think about the person he would’ve turned you into.” She sobs.

“Mom, please don’t—” He can’t finish his sentence as tears choke his own words.

“Please don’t hate me,” she begs.

“I don’t,” he says. “Of course I don’t.”

“You are my child, Cole. Mine. You got the best parts of me. Your father does not define you, do you hear me? You are kind and loving and compassionate. Where you came from, who you came from doesn’t matter.”

He brushes his palm across his cheek, drying his tears as quickly as they fall. “Mom, I need to go.”

“Oh, please don’t do tha?—”

“I love you, okay?” His voice is so soft I almost don’t hear it. “I just need a minute. I’ll call you soon.”

“I love you too. Please call me back.” She’s still crying as he ends the call, and the thought of her all alone breaks my heart, but right now, it’s Cole who needs me.

I approach him from behind, dusting a hand over his back. He runs his palm over his face before he turns to look at me. “I came from a monster, B. My dad was a monster.” He stares down at his own hands as if he might be guilty of the same thing. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

Without warning, he falls into my arms, not crying but just existing. Just breathing and letting me hold the weight of all he’s learned.

“You came from the kindest woman I know,” I tell him gently, rubbing his back. I don’t know what else to say, though I wish there was more that I could. I want to comfort him, but I don’t know how. I don’t know how to do any of this. So we stand there in each other’s arms, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Eventually, when he pulls back, he says, “That was him, wasn’t it? In the garden? The body we found was my dad.”

I give a small, sad nod, feeling guilty for a crime I had no part in. “I think so, yeah.”

He shakes his head, staring off into the distance. “I don’t remember him, you know? Like, I remember that he existed, but I have no real memories of my parents ever being together. It was always just Mom and Vera.” He puffs out a breath of air. “What are we supposed to do?” His hand swipes down his face, eyes wide as he looks my way again. “If we call the police about the body, if they figure out who it is, Mom could go to jail. This changes everything.”

A rock settles in my stomach. He’s right. These consequences go far past Vera now.