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CHAPTER TWELVE

Jigsaw

I never had the chance to talk to Margot at the cemetery. Right after the service, Wrath pulled me aside—insisting we roll over to Remy’s bar with Ulfric and the remaining Wolf Knights.

I stayed long enough to choke down a burger and shoot the shit. When Dex announced they were moving the party to Crystal Ball, I ordered a bag of cookies and a buffalo chicken sandwich to go and said my goodbyes.

I’ve waited long enough.

Margot needs to hear this from me—tonight.

The Cedarwood home looks completely different now. Parking lot empty. No one lingering outside on the porch or on the sidewalk. Only one light on downstairs and one glowing faintly on the third floor.

I roll into my usual spot and cut the engine. The silence descends over me. After a few seconds, the faint night noises return—wind skimming across the pavement and rattling crumpled leaves on brittle branches, the crackling tick, tick, tick of my bike cooling.

When I make it to the back porch, it’s empty and dark. She usually meets me by now. Maybe she’s asleep? Or hasn’t come home yet? I glance at the garage, but the bay doors are all shut —no way to tell if her car’s there or not. No warm porch light on tonight, either.

She’s given me the code for the back door before, but it feels wrong to use it tonight—like I’d be breaking in.

I pull out my phone and send her a text.

I’m out back.

A second later, the lock gives a low, mechanical hum. I hurry up the steps and slip inside before it re-engages.

Downstairs is quiet and shadowy. Only a faint glow spills from under the door to her dad’s office.

Not wanting to run into him, I head straight for the stairs, pulling off my gloves as I go.

I’ve got the sandwich in one hand, and the cookies tucked under my arm like some kind of pathetic peace offering. Here’s a lukewarm, soggy sandwich and a handful of cookies—sorry I’ve been such a dick.

I reach the top step just as her door swings open.

There’s my girl. Standing in the bright light of her apartment, she radiates peace, happiness, and every other good thing I never thought I wanted.

I hesitate, feeling like a demon trying to sneak past the pearly gates.

“Are you coming in?” Margot asks.

“Yeah.” I hurry and cross the threshold. I push the bags of food into her hands. “I brought you something from Remy’s. It’s probably cold and soggy by now and the cookies are probably?—”

She stares down at the crumpled paper bags in her hands and smiles. “Thank you. I haven’t eaten yet.” She walks toward the kitchen and sets the bags on the counter, then turns toward me with raised eyebrows.

She’s not distracted by the food. Nope, she’s waiting for answers. I unlace my boots, toeing them off and setting them next to her shoes, then shrug off my cut and hang it by the closet.

By the time I finally face her, she’s got the sandwich on a plate, two glasses of sparkling water poured, and the cookies spread out on a napkin.

“You didn’t bring anything for yourself?” She gestures toward the sandwich as she hops up onto one of the bar stools.

“Uh, no. I ate there.”

She stares at me for a few beats, then picks up the smooshed sandwich and takes a bite. Her eyes close and her lips gently curve as she slowly chews.

“Still warm.” She dabs at her lips with a napkin. “And only a little soggy.”

I blow out a breath. “Good.”

“I hope you’re not here just to talk about the condition of a chicken sandwich, though?”

I love the gentle way she calls me out on my bullshit.

“No.”

She takes another bite and side-eyes me while my mind races to put the last few days into words that make sense.

By the time she takes a sip of water and sets her glass down, my tongue’s still frozen.

“Okay.” She swivels her stool to face me. “Let’s start small. Where’ve you been the last few days?”

“Around. Took a ride to Maine.”

“What’s in Maine?”

“Ocean. The beach.”

Her lips pinch with annoyance. “The closest beach to us is actually in Connecticut. New Jersey, Rhode Island, and Cape Cod are all also closer. While I love Maine, why did you go there?”

“To clear my head.”

She takes a long, deep, irritated breath.

“Okay. Let’s try this again. You left here the other night and said Z needed help at Crystal Ball.

So what kind of stripper emergency made you cut off contact and ride all the way to Maine to ‘clear your head’…

” Her voice trails off and she frowns. “Did you discover that you knocked up a stripper or something?”

The idea’s so absurd that laughter explodes out of me.

Margot’s frown deepens.

Oh, shit. She’s seriously worried about that. I reach over and wrap my hand around hers, squeezing gently. “No. Absolutely not.”

She sighs. “So, what happened?”

“A…family thing.”

“Is Jezzie okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. Still having fun at her job.”

“Good.” She picks up a fork and knife, pushes the bun off the sandwich and cuts a small piece of chicken off.

“My half-brother showed up looking for me.”

Her fork clatters against the plate.

She turns to fully face me and rests her hand on my thigh. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

I stare into her eyes, ashamed to admit how fucked up Cain’s visit has me.

“Because when you asked if I knew whether it was possible that I had other siblings out there, I lied .”

She blinks as she absorbs the truth.

“The girl who helped me leave,” I continue, “was pregnant when I left.” I close my eyes in disgust. “She was a kid herself. Only sixteen at the time.”

Margot wrinkles her nose.

“Yeah, I know,” I say, acknowledging her obvious disgust. “I met him when I went back for Jezzie.”

I explain every part of that day in as much detail as I can remember and when I’m finished, Margot doesn’t run screaming from her apartment or ask me to leave.

She slides off her stool, pushes her way between my knees and slides her arms around my middle, squeezing me tight without saying a word.

After a second or two, I wrap my arms around her, holding her close. The painful wires that wrapped around my lungs the night Cain showed up slowly unwind and I can finally breathe .

“I love you, Jensen,” she whispers in my ear.

I shared some of the most evil things I’ve ever done, and she still loves me.

“Why didn’t you just tell me, though?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you about Cain.” I shrug and shift my gaze to the floor. “I should’ve just told you before.”

“We…haven’t been together very long. I don’t expect you to disclose every secret in your past to me all at once.”

“This was kind of a big one.”

“Maybe. But it was wrapped up in a lot of complicated feelings and painful memories.”

“Memories?” I let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t actually have a lot of those. So much of my childhood’s a fucking blur.” I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my finger between them as if that might reveal something.

Margot’s warm hand wraps around mine and drags it away from my face.

“That’s because your brain wasn’t allowed to make childhood memories.

You were trying to survive. Instead of storing memories, you were avoiding danger.

You were bracing for impact because you probably never knew what would trigger you father’s punishments. ”

And just like that, Margot has described exactly how I felt as a kid. “Even when I thought I knew what to do to avoid punishment, I’d still do something that needed ‘correction.’”

“Because it was never about you or what you did,” Margot says. “It was about your father’s need for control.”

I turn that over in my head. She’s right, but it’s still hard to accept.

“I wish you’d told me,” she adds. “We’re both adults, I would have understood.”

“Eh.” I tilt my head. “Emotionally, I’m basically a teenager in an adult’s body.”

Shaking her head, she pulls away, but a small smile plays over her lips. “That you’re aware of your emotions at all says you’re more mature than you realize.”

“I did a shitty thing, Margot.” I gently squeeze her hand and lift it to my lips, brushing a kiss against her knuckles. “You’re the kindest, most compassionate person I know. And I did something so fucking heartless by turning my back on that kid.”

“You know me better than that, don’t you?

I’m always on your side no matter what.” She trails her fingers through my hair, gently stroking.

“You didn’t even know him. You left the farm before he was born.

I can understand why you wouldn’t feel connected to him.

Your dad impregnated a…teenager.” Her voice lowers to a conspiratorial whisper.

“I can see why you’d have trouble processing that and seeing Cain as a sibling. ”

I hadn’t thought of it quite that way. I nod slowly, letting her words settle.

“You know everything about me,” she continues, “and you’ve never judged or turned away.”

“This is different. You kill in defense of the innocent. I hurt someone who was innocent.”

“Hurt? How?”

Hasn’t she been listening? I shrug and glance away. “Tried to forget he existed. Took him away from his sister. Sent him and his mother away instead of—I don’t know. Doing more?”

“Jensen.” Sympathy and exasperation color her voice. “What were you, nineteen? Twenty? Cain had a mother. He did have someone to look after him. Seems like you took care of Ruth and her son in the best way you could, given the situation.”

She pauses, her eyes searching mine. “Besides, Jezzie and her safety was your priority. I think you did the right thing. Getting her far away from that place and all those bad memories was probably the safest solution.”

“That’s what I thought at the time too.”

“Good.” She pats my leg. “So, you already know the answer.”

I lean back, letting her words settle into the spaces where guilt has lived for so long. I’m not ready to let go of it, yet.

“Some of the best—and only—memories I have from my childhood that don’t involve punishments are with Rooster. Or Rooster’s mom.”

Margot tilts her head, listening closely.

“She was the kindest woman. Always tried to include me in stuff. I think my dad freaked her out, but she still came to pick me up for trips to the beach, or the fair, or whatever.”

“I’m surprised your dad let you go with an ‘outsider.’”

“I think he hoped to pull her into his ‘flock,’ honestly.”

“What happened to her?”

Pain knots in my chest, sharp and deep. “I thought Rooster’s life was perfect. But home was hell for him too—just in a different way.”

She nods once as if that’s a sufficient explanation and she won’t pry into someone else’s story to satisfy her curiosity.

That alone makes me love her even more.