Page 83 of Powerless
I want to peek over and see who’s texting her. Woodcock hasn’t stopped and her dad hasn’t either. But she’s playing mad at me right now, so I don’t ask.
As we pull up to the sprawling, fancy racehorse training facility, I chance another look at her. All the blood has drained from her face, and her eyes are stuck to the screen, finger suspended above it, shaking.
I glance back at the perfectly paved circular driveway, careful to turn wide enough that I don’t catch a corner with the trailer. This place looks expensive to fix.
Where Wishing Well Ranch is all wood posts, dirt roads, and rustic finishings, this place is glass, white vinyl fence posts, modern touches all over the place.
There’s a fucking chandelier hung over the entryway to the barn.
And below it is Violet.
Smiling.
And sobbing.
As soon as I put the vehicle in park, she runs to the truck, blotchy face popping up beside me as she wrenches the door open.
I’ve barely put my Blundstones onto the asphalt when the words burst from her lips. “They found him! He’s safe!” Safe comes out as a sob, and she launches her tiny body at me, arms tight on my neck as I lift her off the ground.
They found him. He’s safe.
They found him. He’s safe.
They found him. He’s safe.
The words echo in my brain. If I repeat them enough times, they might actually sink in.
I feel the wetness from Violet’s tears. The little sister I still have. My chest cracks open. Because I’ve been so focused on how Beau’s disappearance felt to me, I forgot to think about everyone else.
I’ve been selfish. So fucking selfish.
“They got him. They got him, Jas.”
My arms lock around her as she cries into my shoulder, my own eyes filling. “Where? How?” I murmur against her hair.
“I don’t know. We’ve all been trying to call you, but it goes to voicemail. No reception, I’m guessing. All I know is they found him and he’s getting medical attention. I’m sure dad will hear more.”
We both sigh, and I slowly drop her to the ground. She’s so small, but somehow looks even tinier right now.
Her head turns, and she sees Sloane standing at the front of the truck, watching us, tears streaming down her face. “He’s okay?” Her voice breaks and her hand flies over mouth to hold back the sob.
Violet nods, holding her arms open to her cousin for a hug. Sloane flies toward her, the two women holding each other and crying.
I wipe my nose and tip my head up to the sky, hoping the tears welling might leak back into wherever they came from.
The sky is perfectly fucking blue, like Sloane’s eyes. Not a cloud as far as the eye can see. Not for the first time, I wonder what Beau is looking at right now. Bright hospital lights? An aircraft carrier of some sort? The back of his eyelids?
I see Cole, Violet’s husband, approaching us. Appearing all dark and foreboding—but he isn’t. Well, unless you’re the dumb sucker who slighted his wife, then he has the same switch Beau does as a military member.
The switch that flips and they turn into the man who can kill you with their bare hands.
He gives me a nod as his hand slides over the back of Violet’s head, and I itch to touch Sloane with the same comfort, the same possession.
When his wife turns into him and disappears into the cage of his arms, it’s Sloane who turns to look up at me.
“He’s okay,” she says again.
I nod, feeling my throat go thick and the bridge of my nose sting.
