Andrew’s vision wavered, and he realized he was crying. To think he might have destroyed their lives in one single, stupid moment. He wanted to rush outside to prove to himself that his fears were overblown, but he was in turn terrified to see them justified. The front door both beckoned and repulsed him.

Wiping his tears, he muttered, “Fuck it.”

When he tried to turn the knob, it slipped in his grasp. His palm was slick with sweat. He had to rub it on his pants in order to just open the door.

Keep it together. It’s going to be okay.

His legs went wobbly as a newborn deer when he stepped onto the porch. Buttons nearly knocked him down as he bounded out the door, heading straight for his favorite pissing tree.

Tiny rocks littered the narrow porch.

Leaning on the rail, Andrew looked into the woods, temporarily relieved there wasn’t a body rotting on the ground, chest splayed open from the gunshot.

Which way did I shoot?

It had been in the direction of where their car was parked; that much he was sure of. He felt guilty at his happiness that he hadn’t blown out the windshield or buried a bullet through the hood into the engine.

Slowly, he stepped off the porch, Buttons uttering a quick yap and coming to his side. For the dog, it was a fun moment to be outside. Andrew wished for the dog’s ignorance and innocence. Andrew offered up prayers to a God he no longer believed in, making promises he knew he’d never be able to fulfill in return for not finding a body.

Enough early morning light was penetrating the tree canopy for him to see well beyond the cottage. He held his breath as he walked around, waiting to see his worst nightmare come true at any moment. He kept his eyes on the ground, looking for spatters of blood.

Oh God, if there’s a blood trail I have to follow, I don’t think I can do it.

His heart fluttered as he explored, Buttons scampering about. Only when he’d been at it for a full half hour did he allow himself to finally exhale, leaning against a tree because he wasn’t sure his legs could hold him up anymore.

Buttons kept looking back at the cottage.

“Yeah, I know you wanna go back inside, bud.”

He hadn’t shot anyone. He wasn’t going to jail. He wasn’t going to have to leave Kate.

Andrew sank to the ground, the exhaustion of the past night flooding his system. He’d be perfectly happy going right to sleep out here, the rough bark for a pillow, bugs crawling all over his body. He was just so damn tired.

From his vantage point, he could see the side of the cottage. The roof was filled with rocks big and small.

“Son of a bitch.”