Page 37 of Whirlwind (Seattle Blades #4)

T he scene I walk into at Kit’s grandmother’s house is not the one I was expecting. She’s ghostly white and struggling to gain control of herself, in a full-on panic attack, a crumpled piece of paper in her hand.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” I move to sit on the floor in front of her. Willa is next to her, an arm wrapped around her friend. She looks horrified, and I just know, whatever has happened is worse than I can imagine. “Kit, breathe with me.”

Cupping her face, I softly blow out air, hoping that she’ll exhale with me. I rub my thumbs along her temples and keep whispering to her. It’s long minutes, but she starts to regulate. A few moments later, she pushes the paper into my chest.

“She’s dead,” she gasps.

“Your grandmother? Yeah, sweetheart, I know.”

“Read it,” she says, shaking her head wildly until I take the paper and look at it.

Kitpu,

There is a long list of things I should have told you. It’s almost as long as the list of reasons I never did. Let me start with some of the easy ones.

I love you. You’ve been the greatest joy in my life, the brightest light. I regret that I didn’t tell you that every day. And that I was terrible at showing it. My weak excuse is that I didn’t know how.

I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. It was my job. The most important job I ever had, and I failed. You should have been protected, you deserved that. I’m so proud of you for protecting yourself, for leaving this place, and never looking back. You were always stronger than anyone gave you credit for.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth in life, instead I took the easy way out and wrote you this letter. Hopefully, you won’t hate me for it, but I’d understand if you do.

Promise you’ll never feel any guilt for how you feel about me or the complicated relationship we’ve had, Kit.

You’ve learned to put your own happiness and peace first, and I could never ask for anything more than that.

You are a woman of value, of worth, who is deserving of every good thing you want out of life.

And you are those things because of the choices you made.

You are you because of you, not because of him. Do you understand?

I hope so.

Now comes the hard part. The secret I’ve kept from you because your father said I had to. He threatened to take you away if I ever told you, and I stupidly believed him. I also didn’t want to be the broker of more pain for you, which I can admit was selfish of me.

With this letter, you’ll find the name and phone number of a detective in Billings, Montana. Jack Silva is retired now, but he’ll answer any questions you have.

Nimii didn’t leave you, my sweet girl. Not intentionally.

She went to Montana for the funeral of a childhood friend. While there, she planned to find work and a place to live. A place for you both to escape your father who had shown his true colors by then.

She went missing, later found murdered.

I’m so sorry you never got to meet her or learn what a sweet woman she was. She loved you more than anything in this world.

When your father found out her plan was to come back and pack you up, he hated her for it. Instead of blaming himself, he blamed her and then you.

He erased her from his life because it was easier for him. Maybe he thought it would be easier for you, too. I can’t say.

Her name was Nimii Marian Ray-Ashcroft. I don’t believe she had much family by the time she met your father.

Hannah Markle is the name of the friend whose funeral she went to Montana for.

She has a brother who handled the arrangements for your mother’s burial in Montana. Your father didn’t bring her back here.

I hope it’s enough of a trail for you to find any answers you’ll need. It’s all I have.

This will be hard information for you to process.

I’m thankful you have a support system now to help you.

Nimii would love that for you, too. Though I didn’t get to know her as much as I wish, I’m certain she would be as proud of the woman you are as I am.

Please live with that knowledge strong in your heart, Kitpu. You have always been wanted and loved.

Don’t follow in my footsteps. Stay on your path. Live for yourself, live without regrets and fear. Shower your love on others and take the love they give you with the same exuberance.

It’s the most important thing in life.

I’ve loved you always,

Grandma Anna

Holy fuck.

No wonder she’s such a mess.

“I’m so sorry, Kit,” I say.

Sorry isn’t a big enough sentiment, but what do you say in a situation like this? How is she supposed to handle finding out her mother has been dead for over twenty years from a death bed letter?

Jesus, the shit she’s been through in her life would bring anyone to their fucking knees.

“Why is he so horrible?” she asks, speaking about her father.

She’s calmed down since handing me the letter.

Silent tears fall from her eyes; other than that, her anxiety has subsided.

Or rather, morphed into despair. She still looks like the saddest woman I’ve ever seen.

I’d do anything to change that. What, though?

There’s nothing that can take this away from her.

“I don’t know,” Willa says.

“What do you want to do?” I ask, rubbing my hands along her thighs to comfort myself as much as her. The heaviness is a cinderblock on my chest. The shock of it all is difficult to process, for me, and I’m much more removed from it than her.

Finding out you’ve been lied to your whole life by your entire family is a soul-crushing level of bullshit.

Her father has a lot to answer for, and she still hasn’t seen him.

Not only will she be facing him for the first time in a decade, but it will be with the knowledge that he didn’t tell her that her mother is dead.

“My thoughts are all over the place,” she confesses. “Right now, I want to eat pizza. I want to watch something stupid and mindless until my brain defrags and I can think coherently.”

“We can do that,” Willa says. “Stupid and mindless. You leaning toward something in particular?”

“ Schitt’s Creek ?” Damian suggests, but she shakes her head.

“ Love Island ?” I ask.

“No, I can’t take all that screaming and cheering tonight.”

“ Midsommar ,” Willa chimes in.

“Fuck. Yes, that’s it.” If this conversation was happening at any other time, I’d be laughing my ass off.

Because what the actual fuck? Midsommar is anything but mindless.

Though, Kit doesn’t relax the way most people do.

Easy television is true crime documentaries and the goriest horror movies.

If a pagan cult flick that violently murders people is how she sorts through her brain, who am I to tell her differently.

We all sit on the floor around the television, pizza boxes spread out in front of us while the movie plays.

There isn’t much conversation, and all three of us watch Kit for any sign that her anxiety is taking hold again.

Other than how she normally retreats into herself when she’s contemplating something, she seems okay.

I can’t imagine how I’d react in the same situation.

Truth be told, I’ve never had real trauma.

The worst I’ve been through is a breakup, which is trivial to anything Kit’s been through.

But I imagine I’d rage. At life for being cruel and unfair.

At a father for keeping such detrimental information.

Yeah, I’m sure I’d rage.

I want to rage for her, bury everyone that’s ever caused her offense. This sweet, unexpecting woman who only wants to exist in the world as who she is. A brilliant mind, a heart full of love, and a little bit of chaos to keep things interesting.

My heart hurts when I look at her. It hurts for her, and it hurts that she’s not mine. She should be mine. I believe we’re meant to be. Kit is my person. All the messy thoughts I had the night of the gala are gone. I’m clean. It’s clear to me.

This woman is my future. She’s all that matters.

“What?” she whispers.

“What?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“You’re staring at me,” I say.

“Oh my God,” she says with an eye roll. A soft smile tries to play on her lips. It’s enough to let me know that she’s going to be okay. Whatever she learns from her father, about her mother, she’s going to be okay.

Whether we will be, or not, remains up in the air. But she’s going to be okay. And that’s all I can ask for right now. The rest…I’ll fight for.

Until the day I fucking die, I’ll fight for Kit Ashcroft.