Mia
Present Day
Gabriella and Gracie don’t say much on our stroll down Pine Street, and I’m grateful. I’m trying to get my thoughts together.
Seeing the flashback with Beckett and Clay has triggered me, and I’m trying to stop my insides from shaking.
It doesn’t take long to get to the eclectic bakery-cafe and coastal store. Art, jewelry, and other knickknacks fill the front of the building. Bicycles that are statement pieces hang on the ceiling with price tags. Beach clothes fill a few racks, while every picture on the wall has a sticker that it’s for sale.
The smell of fresh cinnamon buns, coffee, and other breakfast items hits me when I step inside. At the back is a counter to order. People eat and talk at tables with mismatched chairs. Those who don’t have their food have metal holders with numbers on them.
Gabriella hands me a menu before we step up to the counter.
“What do you normally get?” I ask, looking at the expansive list of choices.
“Everything is good, but the crème brûlée French toast is amazing,” Gabriella says.
“It’s so good,” Gracie boasts.
I put the menu back in the holder. “I’ll have that, then.” I step up to the counter and order. Gracie and Gabriella both order it as well. We pay, they hand us a number sign and coffee cups and motion to the side wall that has numerous coffee urns.
“I’ll snag a table,” Gracie says and hands Gabriella her cup. We pump the coffee into the cups and sit down with Gracie.
They both stare and smile at me. I shift uncomfortably, not sure what to say.
“So, where have you been hiding all these years?” Gabriella asks.
I almost claim I haven’t been hiding but stop. It’s what my grandparents were doing, for some reason unknown to me. “In Michigan.”
The girls both look surprised. “Why Michigan?” Gracie asks.
I throw my hands in the air. “It’s where my grandparents sent me.”
“Where in Michigan?” Gabriella asks.
“On the Upper Peninsula.”
“Who did you stay with?” Gracie asks.
“No one. I was at a boarding school run by nuns.”
Gabriella gapes at me. “All these years?”
“There is a small college I went to as well.”
“In the middle of nowhere?” Gracie asks.
I have to take a deep breath to try and calm myself. “Yeah, I suppose that’s one way to put it.”
Gracie furrows her brows. “But why did they send you there?”
“They said it wasn’t safe for me to be here.”
Gabriella tilts her head at me in question. “What wasn’t safe?”
“I don’t know. They never told me.”
“And it’s safe to be here now?”
Talking about the last ten years reminds me of how much of a waste my life has been. I’m suddenly angry at all their questions and butting into my life. “I don’t know. Maybe you should ask your brother,” I snap.
Gabriella’s eyes widen.
Gracie glares at me. “Beckett’s fixing your house so you can be safer. He would never harm you.”
I sarcastically laugh. “Your brother killed my brother.”
“No, he didn’t,” Gracie practically spits.
Blood boils in my veins. “He went to prison for over ten years and never once claimed his innocence.”
Gabriella looks away.
Gracie says, “You were young and probably don’t remember, but Beckett loved Clay as much as he loves Ryland, Hudson, or Connor or either of us.” She motions between Gabriella and herself. “He would never have done that.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “How dare you sit there and tell me what I remember. Almost all my memories of Clay have Beckett in them.”
“So you know he couldn’t have done it, then,” Gabriella softly says.
“Then why doesn’t he deny it?” I cry out, drawing attention from others nearby.
“We don’t know. I was hoping you would tell us.” Gracie scans my eyes.
I stand up, my chair falls over and bangs on the floor. But I don’t care, and I don’t even attempt to pick it up. I point at her. “This is why you invited me out? To claim your brother’s innocence?”
Gabriella stands and puts her hand on my arm. “No. I’ve missed you. I’m so happy you are alive and here.”
I shrug away. “Don’t touch me.”
She grimaces.
“You were the only one who was there that night. Don’t you remember anything?” Gracie angrily asks.
All the patrons in the restaurant gawk at us.
“Beckett knows exactly what happened, Gracie. All I remember is a bonfire, my brother’s cries as he took his last breaths, and Beckett yelling for me to get down. Other than that, I don’t know what happened, and your brother won’t tell me. Why don’t you ask him, if you want the truth, and then you can fill me in.”
Gracie’s face lights up. “If he yelled for you to get down, then you know he couldn’t have done it.”
I angrily glare at her. “Then why doesn’t he deny it? Why doesn’t he tell us what happened?”
“Because he’s covering for someone!” Gracie exclaims.
“Who?” I say, disgusted.
“I don’t know, but that has to be it,” she insists.
“I’m done with this conversation.” I spin and leave the restaurant, but both Gracie and Gabriella follow me.
“Mia, wait up,” Gabriella yells.
“Leave me alone!” I scream back, trotting down the street.
We’re near my mailbox when Gracie calls out, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to know the truth.”
I turn. “You don’t think I want to know the truth? Your siblings are all alive. My only one is dead, but your brother, who’s never denied anything, won’t say a word about what happened that night. That’s the truth.”
“I know he didn’t do it! He couldn’t have. There isn’t a bad bone in his body.”
“Then why won’t he talk? Why does he keep putting all of us through so much pain?”
“If you remember him as a kid, then you know what I’m saying is true,” she claims.
“Gracie! What are you doing?” Beckett’s voice booms behind me, and we all turn.
“I’m trying to get to the truth,” she sternly says.
His eyes become slits. “Stop.”
Tears fill her eyes. “Beckett, it’s been ten years. It’s time you told us the truth.”
“Don’t you ever talk about this in public again,” he barks.
“Why? Talking about it behind closed doors isn’t getting us any answers,” she insists.
“Gracie.” Gabriella tugs on her arm.
“Shut up, Gracie,” Ryland calls from behind me.
Connor and Hudson approach us.
Beckett’s shoulders tense. “Are you trying to get more people killed?” he quietly asks and glares at her.
“What does that mean, Beckett?” Gabriella asks.
He takes a deep breath. “This is the last time I’m going to say this. Do not talk about this ever again. Not in public. Not in our home or anyone else’s. Do you understand me?”
Gracie gets in his face. “Then tell me the truth.”
“Drop this,” he grits out.
“No—”
“Gracie! Enough!” Hudson barks.
She points between Hudson and Ryland. “You two. You’re just as bad as Beckett, hiding the truth all these years. Stop lying to us all!”
I spin to look at them, my mouth gaping open. They know something?
Both their jaws harden, just like Beckett’s does whenever he goes around my questions. “You both know something?” I ask.
They shift uncomfortably.
I step closer. “What do you know?”
“Mia, drop it,” Beckett demands.
I ignore him. “Tell me. I deserve to know the truth!”
Connor waves at Ryland and Hudson. “You two have been hiding something?”
“Keep your nose where it belongs,” Hudson hisses.
Connor reddens. He pokes Hudson’s chest. “Stop acting like I’m a kid.”
“Step back, Connor,” Ryland instructs.
“Shut up. You’re just as bad.”
“Connor,” Beckett growls.
“Everyone stop fighting,” Gabriella shouts.
“They just have to tell us the truth,” Gracie puts in.
“Enough! Stop putting Mia in more danger!” Beckett shouts.
Silence.
Beckett mumbles, “Fuck.”
My heart beats faster as my stomach does somersaults. “What are you talking about?”
He exhales, and his eyes harden. “Go inside, Mia.”
“No. Tell me.”
He clutches my arm and steers me into the house.
“Let go of me, Beckett.”
When we get inside, he doesn’t release me until we are in my bedroom, and he shuts the door. I expect to see his hardened eyes, but instead, I see pain and worry. He cups my cheeks. “Stop asking questions. Please.”
“You have to tell me the truth.”
“Please let it go,” he whispers.
“I can’t.”
He shakes his head.
“Tell me you didn’t do it, Beckett. Tell me you didn’t pull the trigger.”
Opening his eyes, he stares at me, saying nothing.
I grasp the sides of his head. “You couldn’t have. You...” My breath shortens, and my heart pounds against my chest. A flashback of that night is clear as day. “You jumped on top of me.”
Beckett blinks as tears fall.
I touch my rib cage where I have a scar from the bullet that hit me that night.
“I didn’t get down. You yelled at me, then jumped on top of me. He tore you off me and shot me.”
Beckett wipes his face.
“Why have you let everyone believe you’re a killer?” I whisper.
He looks away from me.
I grab his chin and jerk his head back. “Tell me why.”
His jaw clenches, and he takes a deep breath.
“Tell me,” I demand again.
“Drop this, Mia. Nothing good can come of it,” he sternly advises and turns and bolts out of the room.
I follow him. “Beckett.”
He doesn’t turn around.
Gracie and Gabriella are sitting on my couch. Connor, Ryland, and Hudson are installing a new window.
“Beckett!”
He opens the front door, steps out, and shuts it behind him.
In shock from the truth, I gape at the door.
Gabriella puts her hand on mine. “Mia, are you okay?”
I look at her and whisper, “He didn’t do it.”
Her eyes widen.
“I knew he didn’t do it,” Gracie cries out.
Ryland storms into the house. “This is the end of the conversation. I’m not telling any of you again.”
Gracie glares at him. “But—”
“Enough! There are reasons for things. Let it lie.”
Over ten years he endured prison, and he didn’t do it.
Ten years stolen from him.
Ten years of experiencing only God knows what.
Beckett’s voice rings through my head. “Prison is lonely.”
Five. Ten. Fifteen minutes pass. I stand up.
“Where are you going?” Gabriella asks.
“To find your brother.”