Pieces of Summer

Here I am, slowly making a mess of my life with one shitty decision after another. I’ve proven the judgmental bastards of this town right more than I’ve proven them wrong. Dragging Mika down with me isn’t an option. But letting Mika think I didn’t give a damn… Or letting her think I moved on that quickly… That’s not an option either.

She wants closure. I’ll fucking give it to her. She deserves that much.

Looking around, my eyes catch the lone bald eagle statue, and I just stare at it, feeling more guilt well up inside me. Whit is studying me when my gaze comes back to her, and she slowly moves out of my way.

“Be smart about this, Chase. Don’t break a girl who’s already broken.”

Chapter 21

MIKA

As she watched the bowling alley burn to the ground with all the things that tied her to this town, she wiped a tear away from her cheek. Detective Norris looked at her with pity weighing heavily in his eyes, while she watched the flames fight against the force of the firemen’s hoses, struggling to stay alive and take down every last memory before they could put it out.

In a way, she felt relieved, and a sense of satisfaction hit her. The man who had killed her husband couldn’t have survived that fire. He stole her bowling alley like he stole Thomas’s life. Without proof, no one could do anything about it, not even the cops. The forged will had held up in court. He’d taken everything from her.

Now he was burning alive inside all because her husband was such a procrastinator and never had that faulty wiring fixed. In a way, it was poetic justice, because it was like he was avenging his own death from beyond the grave.

She could leave this town now. She could break free. She could move on.

And Clyde James would burn in hell while her husband watched over her from above…

Still no closure. This is the fifth alternate ending I’ve put in. Each one gets worse and worse. The entire book is worthless if I can’t get the ending right, and this story will never freaking have the closure it needs if I can’t end it.

In all actuality, it’s just my closure that’s lacking. Fixing the bowling alley up hasn’t done a damn thing to help me move forward. Going there only makes it worse.

Groaning, I shut the laptop and stretch, standing and moving over to my murder board to see if I can somehow get an idea from there.

“Mika?”

The voice in the house freezes me to my spot, and a chill rides up my spine.

“Mika?” the voice calls again, but I visibly relax when I realize who it belongs to. Well, I relax for about a second.

Damn it. Why is he here? And how did he get inside?

“Mika?” he calls once more.

I could totally hide in the closet. Would that be too weird? It would only be weird if he found me hiding in there.

Just as I decide to risk it, Chase is filling up the doorway to my office, breathing heavily as his eyes land on me.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hi,” I say like an idiot. Just to be really awkward, I give a tight wave.

His lips twitch as he moves into the room, but his amusement falls when he takes in the walls full of corkboards and clear glass boards that are free-standing within the room. The glass boards have marker all over them, along with some pictures taped on. The corkboards are loaded with various index cards that are pinned in place with strings running from one to another.

It looks like a bunker for a conspiracy theorist who is trying to prove there was a second gunman…

“Damn,” he says under his breath, taking it all in.

I continue to stand in place, frozen to my spot as he invades my sanctuary.

“This is pretty amazing,” he says in awe, reading over one of the boards.

I’d tell him thanks, but it seems odd to do so.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him instead, annoyed with how shaky my voice is.