Chapters (29)
- Sebring
- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Epilogue
- About the Author
There was hard behind Knight’s eyes. Life lived that scarred him in a way that would never leave. He might give it to his girls, where it was safe to allow it to show, but right then there was no light in his eyes. Not like the pure blue light Nick could shine on me.
Light that, if it hadn’t been a lie, would have been beautiful.
“Can you explain what’s happening?” I asked Knight.
“Delivering a message,” he repeated what he’d said earlier.
Before I could ask for more information, he lifted his hand toward the TV, a hand that had my remote in it.
“You get the message, what’s next is up to you,” he finished just as music filled the room.
Chords on a piano playing over a ticking clock.
Something about that soothing sound, so contradictory to my current situation, made my eyes shift to the TV.
Playing on it was a video of someone driving down a road. The view was not of that someone, but out the car window.
It was a pretty road that had high, green grass swaying against the shoulder.
A voice I recognized started singing just as there was a cut in the tape and then we were still in a car but it was driving through a town. Obviously a small town. An old town. American flags waving on slants outside pretty little houses. Covered sidewalks in the town proper with hanging signs for storefront businesses. Window boxes. Tubs of flowers. Tended shrubs. Sparkling cars parked at slants leading to the sidewalks.
The tempo of the song changed and we were back on the road with the green grass undulating.
Hills in the background.
No.
Mountains.
Mountains.
I stopped breathing.
The tempo increased again and the car turned down a drive.
Unconsciously, I walked to the back of the couch.
I did this because I needed to.
I needed to curl my fingers on the back in order to stay standing.
The tempo changed again as the video cut and we were out of the car, walking. Walking up a path to a house.
A house…
A pretty little house, homey, rustic, lived-in, tucked amongst a forest of big green trees. A pretty little house painted barn red with white trim with big tubs of flowers, window boxes and tended shrubs at the front.
A house in the mountains.
The music built to a crescendo as we took a tour of the house. Its wood floors. Its kitchen with a big farm sink and lots of old appliances that needed to be updated (but I hoped they never were). Its bathroom with an old claw-footed tub.
My breath caught.
A cozy living room with an abstract painting over the fireplace, the predominant color of the painting an ocean of blue.
There were little bedrooms with not much in them.