There’s a haze that lingers in the aftermath of tragedy. A subtle but constant reminder that nothing is ever going to be the same again. You can’t rewind. Can’t go back. You just have to make sense of the pieces that remain.

I lost a friend. Someone I trusted. Someone I cherished. He wasn’t perfect and he made his mistakes, but he made up for them by being there when I needed him the most. What he did to keep Cam out of prison was more than enough to deserve my forgiveness. And that’s what he got.

The feeling of my hands being soaked in his blood is something I’ll never get out of my head. It’s burned into my mind like a horrid memory that will forever leave me traumatized. But as much as I want to scream and cry and rip my hair out, I can’t.

I can’t feel anything except fear.

I’m scared for all of us. For myself. For my brother. For my best friend. For my husband. The image of him lying there, with blood pooling from his stomach—it’s directly linked with the dread of what comes next. And the worst part is I can’t even make sense of it all. I don’t understand what happened. All I know is that everything was fine, we were having a great night, and then Monty was dead.

I wasn’t lying when I told police I don’t have any idea what happened to him. Honest. I don’t. Other than the fact that my husband can add taken a life to his list of sins, but that’s not something I was about to tell them. Hell, it’s barely something I can tell myself. It was an accident. I know that.

But there’s this little voice in the back of my mind, repeating all the horrible things Hayes has said about Monty.

THERE’S A FINE LINE between calm and chaos when it feels like your entire life is on shaky ground. Just a breeze from the wrong direction could send it all crashing down around us. All we can do is hold on for dear life and hope we make it out alive, and I’m trying to. But that doesn’t mean I’m not breaking inside—worried about what could go wrong next.

“Laiken, you have to stop!” Hayes yells at me, his patience hanging on by a thread and ready to snap.

I roll my eyes, holding the remote away from him. “I don’t have to do anything! We were cleared by the cops, so what fucking harm does it do? It’s not like I’m making you watch it.”

“Because it’s not healthy,” he says as he kneels in front of me. “You can’t keep obsessing over this. It was an accident.”

“Then why did we just leave him there? Why not try to get him help if you did nothing wrong?”

His fingers run through his hair as he sighs. “And then what? You think his family would just be okay with it? Say shit happens and move on?”

I scoff. “Can you imagine what we’re putting his mother through? It must be torture, not knowing where her son is or what happened to him! This is wrong, Hayes, and you know it.”

The guilt is eating me alive. It’s ripping me apart from the inside out. I can barely even look at myself in the mirror anymore. And yet, he’s fine. He’s the one that shot him, and he’s managing to hold it all together. Could he really have hated him that much, to the point of not caring that someone died at his hands?

Hayes goes to grab the remote again, just as a picture appears on the screen and my stomach sinks. “Wait, look.”

It’s Monty’s boat, shipwrecked into the rocks. Chunks of it are missing and almost half of it sits under water, with the part that’s not only being held up by the rocks it’s resting on. I turn the volume up to hear what they’re saying.

“We have new information in the case of missing twenty-year-old Montgomery Rollins. His boat was found wrecked almost one hundred miles up the coast from where he was last seen. Police had this to say in a press conference.”

The video switches to the chief of police standing at a podium. Other officers and officials stand behind him, but it’s the sight of Monty’s parents that breaks my heart. His dad holds his mom as she tries to keep herself from crying, but you can see the way she sniffles. They both look absolutely devastated.

“After the discovery of Mr. Rollin’s boat, we believe we have enough evidence to declare Montgomery Rollins deceased. After a thorough investigation, it is our professional opinion that the cause of death is accidental drowning. The events that transpired Friday night are believed to be as follows. After an argument with his girlfriend, Mr. Rollins appears to have gotten into his boat and went for a drive to let off steam. At some point, he fell overboard and due to his intoxicated state, was unable to get back to the boat. Our hearts go out to the Rollins family, and we ask that you respect their privacy as they grieve the loss of their son.”

The newscasters come back onto the screen, talking about what a devastating loss it is, and then moving on to his father’s campaign as if it’s at all relevant. They’re not even the slightest bit affected, but why would they be? It’s not like they knew him. Or knew what it’s like to be in his presence.

Tears flow down my face as I mourn the loss of my friend. I cry for the life that was taken too soon. I cry for the pain his parents are experiencing. I cry for the people that will never know what really happened or have his body so they can lay it to rest.

Hayes wraps his arms around me and holds me while I sob, whispering everything I need to hear as he keeps me together.

It’s going to be okay.

We’ll get through this.

I’ve got you.

And I know he does. He always does. But the guilt hurts. It’s utterly destroying me. All I can do is lean on Hayes and hope he’s enough to get me through this.

AN OVERACHIEVER IN LIFE and in death, it doesn’t surprise me that Monty’s memorial service is beautiful. The church is decorated in black and pale red flowers, matching the black pews. If he were here, I know he would love it. But he’s not here.

There’s no casket.

No urn filled with his ashes.

According to Hayes, he’s out in the ocean somewhere, becoming a five-course meal for a shark, most likely. So, all we have to honor him and the life we lost is the massive-sized picture of his smiling face front and center.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Hayes asks.

I shake my head. “No.”

He sighs but doesn’t fight it as he goes to join Cam and Mali who have already made their rounds. It’s no surprise to me that he doesn’t want to say goodbye. He hated Monty. But he’s here for me, and that’s what matters.

Stepping up to the picture, I put my hand on it. It doesn’t feel real, him being gone. That I’m going to wake up tomorrow to a call from him, asking if Mali and I want to go shopping or just hang out because “rich kid life is boring sometimes, believe it or not.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I am so unbelievably sorry. We should have stayed with you. We shouldn’t have left you. You didn’t deserve this.” My eyes fall closed as I try my best not to break down. “I miss you so much, and I will never forget you.”

Kissing my fingers, I press them to his cheek.

I’m still crying as I go sit between Hayes and Mali. My best friend gives me a sad smile and holds my hand in hers. It’s a small act of solidarity, telling me she understands and feels it, too—something I don’t have with Hayes. He’s trying to be supportive and doing his best to console me, but he doesn’t get it like she does. And I can’t help but mentally note how unaffected he looks—like he’s not part of the reason there’s a funeral for him in the first place.

HAVE YOU EVER NOTICED the amount of people who come out of the woodwork when someone dies? The people who haven’t talked to them in years but suddenly, now that they’re gone, it’s like they were the best of friends? Yeah, they piss me the fuck off. I tried not to pay attention to it as we sat through the service, choosing to focus on honoring Monty instead, but that’s over. All I can see now is the hundreds of people here that probably never knew him at all.

Let’s be honest, half of them are probably only here to get closer to Monty’s dad. You can tell who they are by the things they say.

“Montgomery was a fine young man.”

“I met Montgomery during charity work last year.”

“The loss of Montgomery is a tragic one. He had such a bright future ahead of him.”

Yeah, if they knew him, they’d know he hated the name Montgomery. He said it sounded pompous. And other than enjoying the benefits of power, he had zero plans of going into politics like his father.

We step outside the church and start to head to our cars when a detective stops us. His badge sits on display on his hip, and he smiles kindly.

“Mind if I have a minute of your time?” he asks.

Mali’s brows furrow. “Someone took our statements when he was reported missing.”

He nods. “I know, and I have them. I’m just following up on a few things.”

The four of us share a look, but it’s Cam who shrugs. “Sure. I don’t know what else we can tell you but ask away.”

“Great.” He pulls out a notepad. “So, you said you guys were at the docks that night. Around what time would you say you got there?”

Hayes hums. “Like six or six-thirty. Somewhere in there.”

“Okay. And what was the plan for the night? Were you all just going to be drinking or did you intend to take the boat out?”

Mali goes to answer, all of them trying to make it so I don’t have to say anything. They saw what a wreck I was after we were interrogated. But before a single word can come out of her mouth, Monty’s mom comes over.

“Detective, I appreciate you doing your job,” she says, “but it’s not necessary. There’s no way these girls were involved in my son’s death. Please leave them be so they can grieve their friend.”

He gives her a curt nod and turns to us. “I apologize. I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Mali and I say in unison.

Hayes puts a hand on my lower back. “You want me to give you a minute?”

I love how he always knows exactly what I need. “Please.”

He gives me a small smile and kisses the top of my head. “Cam and I will meet you guys at the truck.”

With that, the two of them leave and I finally get to hug Monty’s mom. Her and his dad were far too occupied when we got here, and I didn’t want to be a bother. But my heart breaks for the woman standing in front of me.

“Mrs. Rollins,” I say sadly, wrapping my arms around her. “I’m so sorry.”

She takes a deep breath, and I can feel every ounce of the pain she’s experiencing. “Oh, Laiken. Thank you so much for coming.”

“Of course. We wouldn’t miss it.”

As she releases me, she hugs Mali just as tightly. “Monty used to talk about you two so much. He would always say what great friends you were. I know he’d appreciate you being here. I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

Tears are already building in my eyes as Mali rubs her arm. “None of us can. I don’t think it’s really set in for any of us.”

She focuses all her attention on Mali. “I’m so sorry that your last interaction wasn’t a good one. I hope you’re not blaming yourself for any of this. That’s not what I want for you, sweetheart.”

Mali’s head drops. “I’m working on it.”

Mrs. Rollins nods in understanding. “Well, I’ll let you girls go, but please don’t be strangers. I’d love to have you over for lunch soon. Share some stories of Monty. But I understand if you’re not comfortable with that.”

I know I shouldn’t. Hayes will have a conniption when he finds out. But Mali isn’t the only one blaming herself, and if there is anything I can do to help ease some of her pain, I’m going to do it.

“That would be nice,” Mali tells her. “I’ll check my schedule and let you know.”

She looks pleased with that answer and turns to me. “Should I expect you too, dear?”

I force a smile on my face. “How does Wednesday early afternoon sound?”

Mali’s eyes widen as her head whips toward me, but she quickly masks her surprise as Mrs. Rollins beams.

“That would be fantastic. I’ll have the chef prepare lunch for one o’clock.”

“Perfect,” I confirm.

We both give her another hug while we say goodbye, and the second she walks away, Mali looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Uh, what do you think Hayes is going to have to say about that? Can you even handle that right now?”

I roll my eyes. “I have to, okay? I just do. And I don’t know what Hayes is going to say, but that’s for me to worry about.”

She seems unsure, but she lets it go. “All right. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

The truth is I don’t. I don’t have any idea what I’m doing, but that’s nothing new lately. I haven’t had a grip on things since Hayes’s birthday a week and a half ago.

But I know I’m going to have lunch with Monty’s mom regardless.

I owe her that much.

THE DAYS PASS AND NOTHING seems to be getting any better. As much as I try to let my life go back to normal, I can’t. I don’t even know what normal is anymore. But while I’m stuck in this never-ending nightmare, everyone else seems to go about their lives as if it’s just another day. Even Mali has managed to pick herself back up and moved on.

So why am I still so broken?

Hayes is trying to stay patient and understanding, but I see him slowly getting irritated. He can’t seem to make sense of why I won’t just let it go like everyone else, while I can’t wrap my head around how he can. I expected him to feel some kind of remorse. Regret for what happened because it being an accident doesn’t make it completely guilt free. But there’s nothing. Not a single tear has been shed for the life that was taken.

The arguments come more often, becoming part of our daily routine. He says that I’m nitpicking, and maybe I am. But I can’t help it. My mind is a constant mess, and I’m trying to cling to the life I once had, but I’m not even sure that life exists anymore. Or even if it still can.

IT’S WEDNESDAY MORNING WHEN I finally bring myself to tell Hayes about the lunch I’m having with Monty’s mom. Last minute, I know, but I figure if he’s going to try talking me out of it, this way I don’t have to hear it for long. He comes upstairs and sees me dressed, even though he knows I don’t have work today.

“Are you coming with me to the bar, babe?”

Well, here goes nothing. “No. I have plans before I have to be at the rink.”

He actually seems pleased with the fact that I’m getting out of the house when I don’t have to, but I’m sure that won’t last long. “Oh yeah? Going out with Mali?”

“No. Mali’s working today.” I pause. “I’m actually going to have lunch with Mrs. Rollins.”

All of his motions halt. “Mrs. Rollins? As in Monty’s mom Mrs. Rollins?”

“Mm-hm.” I try to sound as nonchalant as possible.

He turns to face me and I’m not sure if he wants to scream, cry, or panic. Then again, it’s probably all three. He’s trying his best to maintain his composure as he breathes slowly.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” He asks. “The pressure of that is a little much, no?”

I shrug. “Probably, but I already told her I was coming.”

“So? Pretend you’re sick.”

“Oh, so she can be upset about yet another thing in her life right now? No thank you.”

His fingers lace into his hair and he tugs. “What if you break down while you’re there? You’re hardly what I’d call stable lately. What if you slip up and say something that contradicts our story? How do you not see what a colossally bad idea this is?”

With each question he asks, the angrier I get. “Will you stop acting like I’m some fucking damsel in distress?”

He huffs. “Well, you haven’t shown me anything different lately. Laiken, you don’t owe this woman anything.”

“Don’t I?” I snap. “Her son is dead! The body of the boy she birthed and loved and raised is decomposing in the ocean right now! And that’s if it’s even still in one piece. The least I could do is have lunch with her and exchange some stories for her to remember him by.”

He’s pacing back and forth across the room. “Does Mali know about this?”

That question strikes a nerve. “Don’t do that. Don’t bring my best friend into this like I need permission from either of you to do something. It’s just fucking lunch, H!”

“It’s a fucking risk is what it is!” His shoulders sag as he stares at me. “Why are you torturing yourself for this?”

“Because one of us has to!” I shout.

He exhales heavily, shaking his head. “Laiken, I love you but I don’t know what to do with you lately. I just keep trying and every morning I pray to God that you’ll get a little better today. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring back the girl you were before all this happened, but spending time with Monty’s mom is not the answer here.”

“No, it’s probably not. I don’t even think there is an answer for this.”

“So, what then? You’re just going to be miserable forever? Let his death hang over your head like a black cloud for the rest of your life? Can’t you see how unhealthy that is? Do you really think that’s what he would’ve wanted?”

I glare at him. “Oh, please. What do you know about what he would’ve wanted?”

He sits on our bed, holding his head in his hands. “I can’t believe this. He’s dead and he’s still causing fucking problems for us. Is this what our future is going to be? Constantly fighting over this? Because if so, I can see why fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce.”

Okay, ouch. Throwing the idea of divorce in my face while I’m grieving is not okay. But if he wants to use words as weapons, I can throw them right back. “Hey, you were the one who was all let’s get the government involved in our relationship.”

“And I wouldn’t trade it for a goddamn thing!”

Scoffing, I put a hand on my hip. “Let’s not kid ourselves here. You and I got married for two totally different reasons. Me because I’ve been in love with you for years, and you because the sex is good. What did Cam call it? Pussy on demand?”

It’s a low blow—one I know has no truth to it, but it hits its target dead on. He stands up and stalks toward me, looking angry and pained all at once. I hold my head high as he stands in front of me.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he growls. “There are a lot of things I will tolerate, but you questioning my feelings for you or the dire need to spend the rest of my life waking up beside you is not one of them.”

The two of us stand there, both furious but also both so fucking scared. And when he finally grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss that’s just as desperate as it is rough, I’m thrown back into everything he is.

My hands grip at his shirt, trying to pull him as close as possible as his tongue tangles with my own. He walks me backward until I’m pinned against the wall, and he shoves his hand under my waistband. There’s no teasing as his fingers immediately go for my clit.

I throw my head back as I moan. It’s been too long since I’ve had him like this. Too long since we’ve let each other forget about the world around us and just existed in our own little bubble.

“That’s it, baby,” he says lowly. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

His lips press against my neck as his fingers work their magic. Maybe this is what we needed—to fuck our frustration out on each other and experience that spark we’ve always had.

“Stay here with me,” he tells me. “Show me what a good girl you can be. Let’s get in bed and stay there all day.”noveldrama

Just like that, it’s like a bucket of ice water is poured over my head. I grab his wrist and pull his hand out from inside my jeans, shoving him away. He has never used sex as a tool against me, and I never thought he would, until now.

And judging by the look in his eyes, he knows he fucked up.

“Laiken,” he tries.

But I point at him as he tries to step toward me. “Don’t!”

My blood runs boiling hot as I glare at him, and he looks utterly defeated as he sighs. “I’m just trying to protect you.”

I huff in disbelief. “Why? You said it yourself. Fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce.”

THE BACK PATIO OF Monty’s parents’ house overlooks a large yard that’s perfectly landscaped. The hill it sits on makes it so you can see the ocean out in the distance. I remember thinking how beautiful the view was the first time I saw it, but now, I can’t manage to look at it for longer than a minute.

“It is so nice to see you,” Mrs. Rollins tells me. “How have you been doing?”

I force a smile on my face, knowing there’s no way I can tell her the truth. “I’ve been okay. Not great, but I’m just taking it day by day. How are you?”

She puts her tea down on the table in front of her. “It’s hard. Parents aren’t meant to outlive their children. But I’m working through it with a grief counselor. I just keep telling myself that Monty would want me to be happy.”

“He would,” I agree with her. “How is Mr. Rollins doing? Is he taking it hard?”

Her lips purse and she looks away. “They were never really close, those two. And the results of the investigation are causing some trouble for him at work. With the upcoming elections, his opponents are latching onto it, claiming he let our son drink underage and drive a boat while intoxicated.”

Great. More guilt to add to the pile.

“That’s horrible. None of this was his fault.”

She smiles sadly. “I know that, dear. Everyone who matters knows that. It was a tragic accident and the result of bad choices on Monty’s part. But you know how politics can be.”

But that’s the thing. It wasn’t solely the result of his bad choices. A tragic accident, yes. And from Hayes’s explanation of what happened, a little his own fault. But it doesn’t lie entirely on him.

The pressure is intense as it pushes down on me, and I’m starting to realize why Hayes and Mali were so insistent on this being a bad idea.

It gets slightly easier as we pivot away from his death and onto happier stories—like how he snuck his mini horse into his bedroom when he was ten, only to freak out when it started to shit all over the place. I tell her about how we met because I accidentally tripped at a club and spilled my drink all down the front of him. I felt horrible, but he just laughed it off—and then proceeded to buy the shirt off the guy next to him for a hundred times what it was worth and buy me a new drink right after.

“Oh my goodness,” she laughs. “That sounds just like him.”

“He was very gentlemanly,” I say, smiling at the memory.

“That doesn’t surprise me. You were so special to him. Mali, too, but especially you.”

My brows furrow as I take a sip of my water. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

She gives me a small smile. “It’s just a mother’s intuition. He liked Mali. He was always smiling when he talked about her. But when he talked about you, I saw a look in his eyes that I’d never seen on him before. Like he was mesmerized by every little thing about you. He really loved you, Laiken.”

My stomach twists, and there’s a pain in my chest as her words set in. Hayes was right. All this time, he kept telling me that Monty wanted me, and I didn’t believe him. And what Mali told me that night, about how he only hung out with her when I was around, it makes so much sense now.

A whole range of emotions flood through me at once. I’m livid for my best friend, because that means he was using her to have an excuse to stay around me. What better way to ensure seeing me than dating my best friend, right? But I’m also full of regret. I can’t count the number of arguments Hayes and I had over this. How many times I called him delusional for thinking Monty looked at me as anything more than a friend. Meanwhile, he was spot on.

All this time he thought it was him that doesn’t deserve me, but really, it’s me who doesn’t deserve him.

I GIVE MRS. ROLLINS a hug, promising that it won’t be too long before I’m back, but that’s a promise I’m not sure I can keep. Learning that Hayes was right about Monty all along, and that he was in fact using my best friend, it doesn’t sit well with me. I’m seeing him in a whole new light, and it’s not a good look on him.

I walk out to my car and as I get in, I send a text to Hayes.

> Hey. Leaving lunch. Just want you to know that I love you and I’m sorry about earlier. We’ll talk tonight.

Putting my phone down, I start my car and go to pull out, when it vibrates. I smile to myself, thinking it’s Hayes, but as I open it, I realize it’s from a blocked number.

> How well do you really know the man you’re married to, Mrs. Wilder?

There’s an attachment with it—a voice recording—and when I press play, my entire body goes cold.

“You think I won’t do my own dirty work? That I won’t enjoy slamming your face repeatedly against the curb? You’re not the only one with connections, Rollins. I’ll strangle you and make it look like you fucked off to an island somewhere with a man named Ramon.”

I can feel as my heart cracks in half. The Hayes that I know is not the same one in that recording, but it’s his voice. There’s no denying that. And the little voice in my head, reminding me of all the rage he felt toward Monty—it’s louder than ever.

If I thought I was lost before, I don’t even know what to call this. Hayes is my rock. The love of my existence. And now I don’t know where to go from here. They don’t give you a manual on what to do when there’s a chance your husband could be a murderer. But when another text comes in, I realize all that might not be up to me.

> That’s only a taste of the things I have.

My thumbs fly across my phone as I type out my response.

> Who are you and what do you want?

>

> I want him to pay for what he did. Check the envelope under your seat for further instructions.