Page 167 of Ly to Me
“I promise.”
Her eyes searched mine. “Where’d you go?”
“His time was up, sweetheart.” I kissed her forehead. “No one is ever going to touch you and live to tell about it.”
“He’s—”
I nodded. “It’s all over.” She wrapped her arms around my neck, shaking with relief. “It’s all over.”
Epilogue
Lyra
2 Months Later
Nora nudged into my chest, crinkling the note in my breast pocket as I placed flakes of hay into her bin. It was yet another note I’d add to my collection after reading it a few more times. I leaned against her stall and pulled it out, unfolding it carefully.
Image of a note, which reads: My little Ly, Told Leo I could only work for a few hours today. Heard that bar down the road is hosting another dance night, one with a cake andDolly Parton selections added to the playlist. Can’t wait to see you when I get home and wish you a proper happy birthday before the rest of the town has a chance to. Love, Your Car
B snorted from her stall when I was done, sending bits of hay and dust into the air directly above me. It’s funny how I thought I was a problematic woman when Carver had two mares in his barn the whole time.
Laughable, really.
“I should threaten you both with a stallion.” I pocketed the note and stood, brushing the hay from my shoulders. “How does that sound?” Both horses stomped.
I could almost hear my husband asking why I finally decided to splurge on a male horse, having no interest in spending the millions we had sitting in the bank before. With Jamie giving us the facility without a single dime going his way, we had more than either of us knew what to do with. The thought made me grin as I flaked off another chunk and brought it to the donkey.
“Here ya go, George.” I bent in, rubbing the top of his head, which I could tell he hated. He was a typical ass, both in the sense he was a donkey and a jerk. But, apparently, having one animal named ‘Dick’ and the other ‘Ass’ wasn’t flyin’ with my husband. George was easily agreed upon as a fitting name. One Car’s dad would be happy with.
Almost like the gift I had planned out for my husband. Alright, maybe not almost. Not even close. But I knew he’d love it once it was done. And as a white lifted truck pulled into the driveway, I dusted my hands and headed toward the house.
“Car should be home soon,” I hollered at Grant as he gathered a bag from his backseat. I thought I heard him muttering to himself about Car murdering him, but I shrugged it off as I entered the house, leaving the front door wide open.
Grant came in and got to work setting out what he needed on the dining room table, now complete with six brand new chairs around it. We still hadn’t replaced the frames we shook from the hallway walls, which was probably for the best. They would’ve been destroyed damn near every other day. The most important photos—one of Carver with his parents, and the other of him and I on the day of our graduation—were anchored in place with a nail gun.
“We’re waiting for him to get home, right?”
“If he walked in and saw me spread-eagle on the couch, do you think—”
“Alright. Waiting. Got it.” Grant’s shoulders fell like that was a relief.
An old Ford truck came into view through the windows. “He’s pulling up now,” I said.
Grant nodded and pulled out a case. “Do you have a particular one in mind?”
I didn’t need to look at the case. I’d been researching what I’d like and wanted for over a month now.
“Grant.” My husband’s eyes were on me, though he said his friend’s name. Then he finally looked at what was set up on the table, and his fist tightened at his side. “What the fuck is all this?”
“The triangle,” I finally replied to Grant.
Car’s eyes widened. “Fuck no.”
“I tried tellin’ her you wouldn’t let me.”
“You want that?” Car asked and I immediately nodded. His jaw worked as he stared at the sterilized needle still in a bag. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
“You could damage the nerves, and if I teach you, I’ll have to be looking anyway.”
