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“You here to preach to me then?” she asks with a sneer on her face.
“I’m here to tell you that I forgive you for what you did to me. I’m also here to let you know that my dad lived. And that I forgive you for shooting him too.”
“Arrogant. That’s what you are. Thinking I care about your forgiveness.” She spits the words out, her cheeks crimson.
“I’m not doing it for you,” I tell her. “I’m doing it for me. Because I want to move forward with my life, and in order to do that, I need to not be weighed down by the past few weeks.” I glance up at Gibson. “I’m ready to go.”
He offers me a single nod, then reaches down and takes my hand.
“You’re making a mistake!” she screams at us. “She’s wrong for you, Gibson! She’s only going to break your heart like Kleo did! Like Manny broke mine! She has to pay! She doesn’t deserve you!”
Gibson stops walking, but I tug him forward until we’re at the bottom of the stairs. Then I keep him moving forward. Step by step, until we’re at the top. As soon as we are, I turn and wrap both arms around him.
He does the same, clinging to me. His heart is racing beneath my cheek, his body trembling. “She was right there the entire time,” he says. “She knew every step we took with the case. Every lead we chased.”
“She was good at hiding.”
“But she shouldn’t have been that good,” he says as he pulls away from me. “I should’ve known.”
“Gibson, no one did. I didn’t even realize it until she took the mask off. It was a good mask she wore.” I press a hand to his chest. “But it’s in the past now. And I really want to move forward. Ineedto move forward.”
* * *
“You doing okay?”I ask as I step into the living room. It’s an early Saturday morning, and even though he’s been doctor-cleared to go back to doing work around the ranch, my mom has insisted my dad stay laid up for at least another week.
“I have a stomach full of your momma’s French toast. I’d say I’m doing just fine.” He smiles warmly at me as I take a seat beside him on the couch. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” I smile.
“Another nightmare?”
Not seeing a sense in lying, I nod. “I just can’t get it out of my head. The way it felt to feel the air leach out of that box.” Tears sting my eyes again. “Dad, every time I close my eyes, I’m terrified I’m going to wake up back there. Buried in the ground.”
He sets his plate aside. “Come here, honey.”
I lean in to him as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. “She almost killed us both.”
“But the good Lord saw fit to save our lives,” he says. “And I thank Him for that every day.”
“I thank Him too.”
He kisses the top of my head. “You are so strong, Lani Hunt. Strong and wonderful. You will make it through the healing, and when you do, you’ll be on the other side of what may very well turn out to be the worst few weeks of your life.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t get much worse than that,” I reply. “I’ve had enough trauma to last me lifetimes.”
He hugs me tightly. “You’ll make it through, my darling. Because you have God standing beside you, holding you up when things get hard.”
“I know. ‘Fear not the fire,’” I say, quoting one of my favorite songs. “Because He’s in it with you.”
“Exactly.” He squeezes my shoulders again.
“I’ve decided to go home today.” I straighten up. “Or, back to the apartment. At least until my house is finished here on the ranch.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
I nod. “I need it, Dad. I need to get back to normal.”
“Then I want you to have what you need.”