Page 110 of The One
THIRTY-FOUR
Rhett
Fifteen Years Ago
Like a flip of a switch, everything had suddenly gone dark.
My entire life had changed.
And just when I’d thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.
Because four days had passed since I’d talked to Lainey. My calls to her cell went unanswered. When I tried her parents’ house, my call would either go to their answering machine or the phone would be picked up and then slammed down.
Lainey’s parents were making it clear they didn’t want to hear from me.
Which had started when Mr. Taylor thrust his head into the room at the police station where I was being interviewed.
He had pointed his finger at me from the doorway and said, “I never want you to see or talk to Lainey ever again—do you hear me?” before a police officer pulled him away.
According to the law, I was innocent. I’d passed the breathalyzer test. The preliminary blood test showed smalltraces of THC in my system from when I’d smoked the day before—a level not high enough to prove I’d smoked around the time of the incident. The witnesses—the ones who had called the Coast Guard—had confirmed that Penelope had jumped on her own, that I was in the captain’s seat when it happened, therefore I hadn’t physically forced her into the water.
Still, Mr. Taylor believed I deserved the death penalty. He’d said as much when he shouted, “Give him the electric chair,” in the hallway after the police pulled him away from my interview room.
Whatever I’d said to Penelope that made her jump off my boat was on me. I would have to live with that for the rest of my life.
Just like I’d have to live with the memory of this morning when, while hiding in the back of the cemetery, far from her parents’ line of sight but with a clear view of Lainey, I’d watched my girl pull free from her parents’ grip. I’d watched her crawl to Penelope’s casket. And I’d watched her beg for Penelope to come back. I’d never seen anything more gut-wrenching or heartbreaking.
An image that would forever live in my fucking head.
While she had pressed her face to the casket, holding it as though she were trying to hug it, I’d just wanted to put my arms around her. I’d wanted to whisper in her ear that everything—somehow, someway—would be all right. I didn’t know if that was true, if she’d ever be able to move on after a loss like this, but they were words Lainey needed to hear.
And I was determined to say them to her.
Which was why, hours after the funeral, I was at her front door, ringing the bell.
I clenched my fingers, listening to the sound of stomping feet on the hardwood floor, each step getting louder. I held my breath as Mr. Taylor’s face appeared in the doorway. He still hadon the black suit he’d worn to the funeral, the same way I still had on mine.
“I told you to stay away! Get off my front step and get the hell out of here!” Every time he emphasized a word, a piece of spit came flying toward me.
I didn’t care how angry he got; I wouldn’t back down, nor would I let him push me away.
“I need to talk to Lainey, sir.”
He held the top of the door, looking at me with complete disgust. “I don’t care what you need! Leave! Now!”
“You don’t understand. I need to talk to her. Please. A couple of minutes—that’s all I’m asking for.”
“Idon’t understand?” He took a step toward me. “I understand that I put my daughter in your care, and according to the witnesses, there was yelling and screaming on your boat before she stormed off and jumped into the water. Your engines should have been off if you were idling and there was concern that she might jump?—”
“I didn’t know she was going to jump.”
I couldn’t even count how many times I’d said that over the last four days.
When the Coast Guard had arrived at the boat.
At the police station.
To my parents.
