Page 44 of A Sublime Casualt
For the life of me, none of it makes sense, and yet as it stands, it’s our new reality. “When did you plan to kill them?”
He glares at Phoebe a good long while before answering. “I could have kept them forever. Ashley needed to come home soon. I had a room prepared for her. She was down to her last few visits but was too prideful to realize I would turn on her. But as soon as you started poking around, digging into the past, discovering things that quite frankly I thought were undiscoverable”—he points to Phoebe—“I knew time was running out. I stockpiled kerosene in the shed behind the cabin. I was about to line the periphery when I heard your girlfriend outside.” He pauses, letting the grim nature of it all sink in. “I had killed Miles hoping to send you to prison.” He looks to Phoebe again. “And you there as well for stealing Lizzy’s identity. How perfectly romantic. If I had more time, I would have pegged you with their deaths.”
Phoebe and I stand there an unreasonable amount of time staring down the monster who took down so many worlds. We leave without whispering another word, simply walk on out and on with the rest of our lives.
* * *
On a Saturday in February,a week after Valentine’s Day, Paul Richard—Peavey, and Devyn Benedict are given the blessing of the courts to live with Phoebe and me. After the nightmare died down last December, I had Thomas look into Phoebe’s situation, and we were delighted—for lack of a better word, that the cops eventually ruled her stepfather’s death a drug-related homicide. I had never seen a fiercer embrace than that of Phoebe and her siblings—of course, they pulled me in and included me in their circle. We’re family now, just the four of us living in Wakefield in my tiny little house where we belong. Jackson has graciously agreed to move in with Gabby full-time, and over the span of many weeks, Gabby has opened her entire heart to Phoebe once again.
To celebrate our hard-won victory, Phoebe and I decide to treat our newfound family to where it all began for us, at the Hideaway Café. No formal charges were ever filed against Phoebe. With a little help from my friends on the force, we categorized the identity theft as nothing more than what Phoebe categorized it as all along—amistake. Joe was willing to welcome her back with open arms, but Phoebe had heard there was an opening down at the public library and she jumped at the chance to spend all day in her favorite environment. But this afternoon we’re happy patrons of the Hideaway Café, sharing French fries and peanut butter shakes—our new normal, the new us. And come tomorrow morning, we’ll all be back for the all-you-can-eat pancakes. A challenge has been issued, and each and every one of us is ready to compete.
Both Neil and Ashley were slammed with murder and kidnapping charges respectively, already locked up and awaiting their sentences. Lizzy is back to her old self, and dare I say, better. She’s mellow, reserved, centered in her own contentment of simply being free, being safe, being with family. Believe it or not, she’s agreed to give it another shot with Thomas, and that boy is walking on air. I hope they make it work. And I really think they will.
That night as Phoebe and I lie in bed, after we compete beneath the sheets for one another’s affection, I hold her tight and press a molten kiss to her temple.
“It could have been true,” I assure her. “Howard Hunter was a very bad man. He had enemies, more than one. I don’t want you to carry that guilt with you. I want you whole and happy and able to sleep well at night.”
She bubbles with laughter as she spins into me, her hair splayed over the pillow like dark shards of glass. “It could have been.” She tucks a kiss just under my chin. “But I’m whole and happy and able to sleep very well in your bed at night. So don’t worry about me. I promise I’m fine.”
I give her sides a quick pinch. “Good. And that brings me to my next point. I don’t want you to see this as my bed. It’sourbed. This is our house. And”—I slip my hand into the nightstand and come out with a small velvet box—“I want you to be my wife, Phoebe.” The moonlight washes her silver as tears pool in her eyes.
“Theo!” She wraps her entire body around me. “Yes! Yes!Yes!” she shouts, and someone down the hall thumps against the wall.
We share a quiet laugh.
“Thank you.” I land a soft kiss over her lips and linger. “We’d better clarify with them what went on in here tonight. You do realize Paul Richard is built like a linebacker. I’d hate to get on his bad side.” He let me know early on during our first meeting that Peavey was a nickname strictly for Phoebe’s use, and I happily complied. “One more thing,” I whisper, brushing my finger over my new fiancée’s cheek. “I bought four tickets to see Jeremy Newton at the Rock House in two weeks. I thought we might go as a family this time.”
She sucks in a breath and holds it. “You are magic, Theodosius Stavros, you know that?”
“You’re magic.” I dot her nose with a kiss. “And full disclosure, Theodosius is my middle name. My first name was changed once my father left the picture. My mother was gunning for Theo the entire time.”
“Really? So by all means demystify yourself. Who am I really looking at?” She takes a quick bite out of my bottom lip.
“Randal.” I can’t help but groan with the admission.
“What?” Her face bleaches out a moment. “Oh my God. Really?Randal?”
I offer up a sheepish nod. “Why? You’re not allergic to the name, are you?”
“Actually”—she tilts her head, her brows lifting as if she might be—“you are never going to believe this.” Phoebe tells me all about her morbid reoccurring dream, her future husband named Randal, already dead and waiting to greet her, and I can’t help but laugh.
“I guess that means we’re going to have one hell of a future.”
“We already are.” She pulls me in gently by the back of the head, her glowing eyes pinned to mine. “Welcome to your future, Theo. I’m ready to make all of your dreams come true.”
And she does.