Page 6 of Darkwater Lane

“You’re right. When I learned about Callie’s murder, and the details of what happened, something in me broke. I was already dealing with PTSD from my tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, though I didn’t recognize it at that point. I was full of rage and pain and needed an outlet. I found that with the families of Melvin’s other victims. I didn’t see it at the time, but we were toxic for each other. That was the start of the Lost Angels.”

For a moment, I feel a familiar spark of anger at Sam for this. I know it’s not fair. I know he regrets what he did, but that stilldoesn’t erase the harm the Lost Angels have done over the years. The damage they continue to cause.

He leans forward, placing a hand on each of my kids’ arms. “The time I spent with you and Connor that summer…it’s what brought joy back into my life. Up until then, the only point I saw in waking up each morning was to get revenge. You three showed me another way to live. That I could actually have a future.

“I deeply regret that period of time in my life, and I’m sorry for my involvement in causing the three of you pain. But I’ll never regret moving to Stillhouse Lake because it brought you all into my life. And this family—my family—means everything to me. I love you guys.”

Lanny pretends to brush her bangs out of her face, but in actuality uses the opportunity to swipe tears from her eyes. “We love you too,” she tells him. Connor nods, agreeing with the sentiment.

In that moment, my heart is full—despite the podcast, despite the increase in threats that will inevitably follow, despite the turmoil being back in the public eye will bring. It amazes me how something as beautiful as this family could come from something so dark and twisted as Melvin’s murders.

It’s a reminder that we all have choices in life. We may not be able to control what happens to us, but we can control how we respond. Sam responded to the news of Callie’s murder by choosing hate and revenge. Even once he realized he was wrong about my involvement, he could have continued living in that shadow. Instead, he decided to choose happiness and possibility. He found a new family out of the loss of his sister.

The same is true about the podcast. It will upend everything, but it’s not like we haven’t been through that before. We’ve faced threats and survived. We can continue to do so.

Lanny was right. I shouldn’t give up on the promise to live on our own terms so easily.

I slap my hand on the table. “You know what?” I tell Lanny. “I’ve changed my mind. You should go on the field trip next weekend.”

Her eyes go wide with excitement. “Seriously?”

“We’ll work out the exact details as we get closer, but you’re right—the Lost Angels want to ruin our lives. We’re not going to let that happen.”

That night, I’m standing in the bathroom applying face lotion when Sam comes into the room. He stands behind me, his hands on my shoulders, gently kneading the tight muscles. I catch his eye in the mirror.

“Letting Lanny go to DC is the right call, isn’t it?” I ask.

He sighs. “There’s no right answer, unfortunately.”

He’s right, and we both know it. But I dislike uncertainty. I’m tired of the constant second-guessing, my brain always churning over threat levels, how to protect ourselves, trying to anticipate the unknowable. It’s exhausting.

I lean my head back, and he wraps his arms around my chest, resting his chin on my shoulder. We continue gazing at each other in the mirror.

“I’m never going to stop worrying about them, am I?”

He smiles softly. “Nope.”

“I just wish things could be normal. They deserve that after everything they’ve been through.”

Sam lifts a shoulder. “Normal is overrated.”

“I got an alert that the podcast released a teaser of their next episode. It’s about you and Leonard Varrus.”

A muscle twitches along his jaw. “You know what? Let’s not invite trouble from the future. We’ll worry about the second episode when it drops.”

“But what if they bring up all that crap about Leo’s blood beingfound in the Stillhouse Lake house and you being accused of his murder?”

He presses a kiss to my temple. “I have an idea, and it doesn’t involve discussing podcasts or murder––or anything else for that matter.”

I lift my eyebrows. “Oh?”

He pulls me back against him so that his front is flush with my back. Suddenly, I have a very, very good idea of what he’s suggesting. He flashes me a lazy smile, then drops his face toward the crook of my neck, instantly finding and nuzzling that sensitive spot that never fails to make my knees a little weak.

I wobble slightly, warmth flooding through me. His arms are tight around me, always there to support me. I decide he’s right. The podcast can wait. I have more important things to focus on instead.

3

GWEN

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