Page 45 of Wicked Lies Grow Wildflowers

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

MAEREN

I love you I love you I love you . Those three perfect words replay in my mind over and over.

Xander told me he loves me. The feeling had been creeping in since before .

Before my world imploded. Before the lies ripped my happiness to shreds.

Before Simon assaulted me. Before my mother chose him over me.

She chose a monster over her own daughter.

She stood there and fucking saw what was going on and still chose him. And then she attacked me.

My head is throbbing, my face swollen, nose and eyes raw from the constant flow of tears and snot.

It’s been forty-eight hours since Xander put a bullet through my mother’s chest. Forty-eight hours since I saw her lifeless body hit the floor with her instantly fatal wound.

I can still see all of the blood coating my hands.

My feelings are all over the place. At first I felt devastated because she was all I had left of a family.

And then I felt relieved. And now… Well now I don’t know what I feel other than confusion and utter exhaustion.

I don’t want to feel like this, I don’t know how much longer I can feel like this.

I’m detached, empty, just a ghost floating through space.

Xander has been amazing at helping me, at being there for me, but is it enough?

Should it be enough? He lied to me since the fucking day we met and would have continued to lie if he hadn’t been caught.

If I hadn’t witnessed what I did, would he have ever told me the truth on his own?

How can we be in love with each other if I never even knew who he really was until now?

So much of what I knew about him was a facade.

And there was so much I didn’t know. He may not have been lying to me when he swore he wasn’t leaving me the notes and flowers and trinkets, but what he did was so much worse.

He was leading a double life right under my fucking nose and I was too naive to see it.

But he didn’t mean to hurt me, I remind myself.

If anything all of the secrets were to keep me safe.

Pulling the blanket tighter around myself, I curl my knees up to my chest. My bed is my safe place, my solace.

I don’t want to face the world. I don’t want to pretend everything is okay, and I don’t want to lie.

I’m so fucking done with all the lies. My mother’s death was staged as a domestic dispute, which I guess at the end of the day was all it really was.

Xander’s team, well technically his boss’s team, was able to work with the police in order to keep the real reasons behind everything under wraps.

The official story to the public is that while Xander and I were both attending my family’s Thanksgiving dinner, my mother’s boyfriend tried to sexually assault me.

When caught, he threatened my life with the turkey’s carving knife.

Once he made a move to actually kill me, Xander intervened to save me.

Simon died of a single gunshot wound to the abdomen.

My mother died the same way when she turned on Xander and I.

Horrifying and tragic. Xander is the hero, and I’m the damsel in distress.

And all I have to show for it is a faint cut still healing on my neck, along with a lifetime of trauma made a thousand times worse.

Yay me. I should probably go to therapy, but at this point I think my therapist would have to get a therapist, and there’s just too much for me to contemplate unpacking it all so soon. But maybe someday.

The good news is Simon died nameless. His identity as The Skinner wasn’t revealed to the public on behest of Mark as he thought the media getting ahold of that info would be too risky.

He thought that the public's general obsession with violent crimes would lead to people digging into connections that could link back to the Marino family, and that would make things messy. Because of Mark’s generous donations to the police department, they’ll do just about anything he says, which happens to be a good thing in this instance, especially because it’ll keep me out of the public eye.

Mostly. Simon was just a random car salesman, not an interesting tidbit about him.

The bastard wasn’t humbled in life but he’s surely humbled in death.

I’m just an unfortunate orphaned daughter who’ll fade out of people’s memory soon enough once the next tragic death takes place.

I do feel some grief over the five women Simon murdered.

Those are the only ones who have been found, at least. Their families will never see Simon suffer his consequences and will never feel like they have justice.

I couldn’t change that outcome though, and I find comfort in knowing Simon will never hurt anyone else ever again.

One thing that won’t be fading anytime soon is my anger at Xander, and he knows it.

I may have confessed my raw feelings of love to him in an incredibly vulnerable moment, but we are far from fixed.

How can we be? It’s been less than a week and I’ve got a good month left of tumultuous emotions and grudge holding.

And we haven’t really discussed everything in detail.

I haven’t had the mental capacity for it.

My brain still can’t comprehend my mother being dead.

“Hey baby, do you want me to call the funeral home for you today?” Xander asks cautiously.

Right. That . I’m really, really hating the role of only child right now. All of this responsibility for the house and funeral arrangements has befallen me.

“No, I can do it.” I gather myself enough for the agonizing phone call and spend the next forty-five minutes going over the details of what to do with my mother’s body.

She didn’t have a will, so everything is my decision.

I know my mother would have wanted to be buried in some stupidly ornate casket with a funeral procession consisting of everyone who’s ever met her, but honestly—fuck that and fuck her.

I choose to have her cremated, give a general obituary for the newspaper, and that’s that.

This feels like a good “screw you mom, you were always the absolute worst, have fun being dead” gesture.

When I end the call, sobs overtake me once again, while Xander just holds me, letting me fall apart on my living room floor.

That’s the thing about grief, it doesn’t always make sense.

There are no hard and fast rules. Leanne Butler may have been mommy dearest, but she was still my mother and that loss cuts deep, whether I’ll miss her or not.

It’s going to take a while for me to reconcile my feelings and reach peace.

A week passes and I’m finally starting to come out of the fog I’ve been stuck in.

I’m starting to eat again, just small meals here and there, but it’s something.

Showers have become a source of comfort where I can cry and collect my thoughts simultaneously.

I always walk out of them feeling a little more alive, my head a little clearer.

I get dressed every morning and comb my hair, brush my teeth; I’m going through the motions.

The office gave me two weeks of bereavement leave, considering the circumstances, which was generous of them, and I definitely need it.

I couldn’t imagine trying to hold real conversations right now, or act like the whole city doesn’t know my name.

Sage has been calling and texting but I’m not ready to see her yet.

She might be a little offended that I’m choosing Xander, but he was there .

He knows every detail of that night, the whole truth.

And I’m not sure I want to ever share the real story with anyone else.

I do, however, need Xander to answer a question that’s been nagging at me. I think I’m ready for the answer now.

I brace myself and straighten my sweatshirt as I exit the bathroom to find Xander sitting on his couch.

He’s hardly left my side, staying home twenty-four-seven.

As if he’s afraid to leave me, like I’ll bolt on him or hurt myself.

Both valid concerns at this point, but I need to do this, regardless of how it makes me feel.

If he’s not willing to be completely honest with me then there isn’t anything left of us.

I just hope this doesn’t end that way because I know I can’t handle another loss, especially not him.

“I have one question, and I need the truth.”