Page 86 of Bought By Santa

I pretend not to hear them as I sit in the backseat with Will’s head resting in my lap. If I don’t focus on the bullet hole or the blood, I can almost imagine she’s sleeping. But… she isn’t sleeping. She’s dead—gone to a place where I’m not ready to follow.

“We should cremate her,” I reply, barely recognizing my own voice. “That’s what she wanted.”

“Now?” Nick asks, and I’m startled by the question.

Is that even possible? What am I thinking, of course it is. “Yes, now.” I reply. “I want it all taken care of today. And we need to tell Dr. Hargrove, and I need to call the—”

Nick clears his throat. “Can… Ruby would love to help if you’d let her. And I’m sure she would want to say goodbye.”

I nod stiffly. Even with the time I spent with Ruby at the hospital, I can’t say I care much for her. But Willow did, and she would have wanted Ruby’s help… I think. “Okay,” I agree.

Closing my eyes, I pray for darkness to take over, or a hole to open up and swallow the car. But of course none of that happens. And maybe that’s for the best because no matter how bleak everything looks right now, I’m not ready to say goodbye.

As I open my eyes, I look at Nick. He’s so much more than what everyone thinks; to me, he’s everything.

I’ve already embraced his darkness, so I can do the same for my own. Right?

Chapter 29

The Breeder

Nick’s voice is low and steady as he speaks on the phone, his words piercing through the haze around me. “Ruby, Willow is dead. Carolina wants the body cremated immediately.” The words hit me like a blow, and I feel myself slipping away, drifting into memories that come rushing back, unbidden and relentless.

I’m seven, and Will is just a year old, her tiny hands clutching my fingers as she giggles, her eyes bright with wonder. Iremember the way she used to follow me everywhere, toddling after me on chubby legs, her laughter filling the air like music. We’re in the garden, the sun is warm on our faces, and I’m showing her how to pick flowers without breaking the stems. She looks up at me with such trust, her little face glowing with love and admiration, and I feel like the whole world is perfect at that moment.

The memory shifts, and now Will is eight, and I’m fourteen.

We’re running through the fields behind the house, the tall grass swaying around us as we chase each other. She’s fast, so fast, and her laughter is wild and free, echoing in the open air. I catch her, finally, and we collapse together on the ground, breathless and happy, staring up at the sky as the clouds drift by. She’s my little sister, my shadow, and in that moment, everything feels simple and right.

“Carolina.” Nick’s voice pulls me out of my trip down memory lane. “Do you want… umm, Ruby’s asking if you need any help with Willow’s things?”

Do I? Yeah, I guess I do. I’m not leaving my sister, so someone has to gather it all. “Yeah, I do, actually.” My tone doesn’t sound like mine as I mention that Will’s room at Ability Acres needs to be emptied, and that they need to know she’s not coming back.

“I’ll take care of it.” Ruby’s voice rings out from the speaker on Nick’s phone. “Is there anything else you need?”

Rather than answering, I just shake my head as another memory surfaces, and I let it pull me away from the horrible present.

Will is eleven, and I’m seventeen. We’re at the lake, and while I’m sunbathing, she’s swimming. “Look, Caro,” she shouts excitedly, wiggling her legs beneath the water. “I’m swimming like a mermaid.” The sun sets behind us, turning the water into a shimmering gold, and I remember thinking how beautiful she looked, how full of life and promise.

But then the memories start to darken, the happy moments fading into the background as the accident looms closer in my mind. I try to hold on to the good times, the times when Will was free and happy, before everything changed. But the weight of what’s happened now, the reality of her being gone, pulls me back into the present, into the crushing grief that’s settled in my chest like a stone.

Nick is still talking, but his voice is distant, almost drowned out by the ache inside me. I stare at the wall we’re parked next to, trying to process it all, trying to hold on to the memories of who my sister was before everything fell apart. But it’s hard. The pain is too fresh, too overwhelming, and all I can do is sit here, lost in the past, wishing I could go back to those moments when we were both so young, so full of hope, and nothing could touch us.

The crematorium is quiet, the air thick with the scent of burning wood that clings to everything, filling my nostrils as I step out of the car. Nick moves ahead of me, cradling Will’s body in his arms with a tenderness that feels out of place in a world so dark. I follow him in silence, my legs carrying me forward even though I feel disconnected from everything, like I’m walking through a fog.

We enter the back room, the light dim and cold, reflecting off the stone walls that seem to close in around us. The air is heavy, oppressive, but he moves with purpose, his face set in that unreadable mask. An attendant appears, bowing slightly as he greets Nick, his words laced with respect, even deference. It’s clear he knows who Nick is—what he is—and he treats him with the cautious reverence that people like him command.

The attendant offers his services, speaking in hushed tones, but I barely register the conversation. I’m too focused on Will, on the stillness of her form wrapped in the soft white fabric.

I don’t know how long I sit on the cold stone floor, my back pressed against the wall as I stroke my sister’s hair, but itfeels like hours. Time seems to stretch and warp, each second dragging out into an eternity. My fingers move automatically, brushing through her locks like I used to when we were younger, back when things were simple and happy. But now, there’s nothing—no tears, no pain. Just a vast, empty numbness that swallows everything.

Nick joins me after a while, lowering himself onto the floor beside me. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close, trying to offer some comfort in the only way he knows how. But I don’t respond, don’t speak. I can’t. There’s nothing left to say, nothing that could make this any less real.

Instead, I begin to sing softly, my voice barely above a whisper as I cradle her head in my lap. The words come from deep within me, songs from our childhood, lullabies that our mom used to sing to us before bedtime. I sing them now, for Will, for myself—trying to fill the emptiness with something, anything, that could bring her back to me, even for a moment.

But the only sound is my voice, soft and broken, echoing off the cold stone walls. Nick holds me tighter, his presence solid and unyielding, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. I just keep singing, my hand moving through Will’s hair, wishing that I could hold on to these last moments before she’s truly gone.

I can’t do this. I just can’t. The thought chokes me, but tears don’t come. They’re trapped, like everything else inside me—my grief, my rage, a scream that’s got no voice.

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