She leads me through a garden, around a water fountain, into a short iron gate, mimicking the one on the outside, and suddenly, I’m staring into my father’s hazel eyes.

My vision grows foggy, but I don’t blink, and then Monti lets go of me. Once she does, she folds my fist closed, and I know what she’s left inside.

The key.

My father’s headstone is one to be admired.

It’s four feet tall and diamond-shaped, the photo in the center one of him holding me in his right hand, Monti in the left.

At the bottom of the design, there is the large stone box that this key and this key alone can unlock. Engraved along the top are the words free thyself today, love thyself tomorrow.

There’s a peace dove carrying a sword beneath it to symbolize the end of war.

My father’s war came from within, and one day, it took over. He brought his battle to an end the only way he knew how.

And I’ve spent my entire life hating him for it, judging something I didn’t fully understand because it was easier than believing I wasn’t enough to keep him here.

I know now it was never about me or my sister, it was never really even about my mom.

It was about him, and I can’t fault him for that.

I don’t want to.

I want to miss him, but I don’t know how.

And I want to love.

I want to feel.

I want Ransom.

I can’t stop it, everything inside me shatters.

My dad, my friend, my future, all gone.

Sobs rack through me at an unyielding pace, shaking my body and stealing my breath. Tears heat my cheeks and when my sister pulls me into her, I don’t fight it.

I hug her to me.

But that’s not what shocks me.

It’s when my mother’s hand suddenly appears on my shoulder, and I look up to find moisture building in her eyes, our stepdad standing at her side.

She lowers to the grass, white pants and all, and both Monti and I freeze.

But only for a moment, and then we fall into her arms.

Chapter 33

It’s after three in the morning when there’s a knock on my bedroom door, but I ignore it, listening to the waves in the distance, the cold air coming through my open bay doors, bringing goose bumps to my skin.

I look over my shoulder as it opens to find my mom standing there, her pantsuit still on, hair perfectly in place, and I would almost say her makeup was freshly applied.

She hesitates, taking cautious steps inside, and joins me on my bed.

“I’m really sorry about Juliet,” she says quietly.

My eyes fall to my comforter, and she understands it for what it is.