Conceal

“How can I not have known . . . ?” I finally say as my sobs settle down.

Preston leans forward in his chair.

“He lied to you, Willow. He used your weakness and preyed on you. It’s not your fault.”

“I don’t understand. It feels like my world is a lie, and there is a big gaping hole in my heart,” I admit on a sigh. “I don’t miss him; I hate him, but why do I feel like the void—”

“It’s hard to find out that part of your life is false. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to feel grief. You lost your mother, you lost your father, and for all intents and purposes, you lost your husband. You lost the life you thought you had. You will grieve, and you have to have realistic expectations about the amount of time required to heal from this grief. It won’t happen overnight. When you left, it didn’t make it go away just because you no longer saw it.”

“What do I do?”

“Take one day at a time. Forgive yourself.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You blame yourself. These nightmares, of your father’s blood on your hands, mean you blame yourself for his death. For letting your husband into your life. But it’s not your fault. None of it is. There is only one person to blame. Him. You need to forgive yourself. It’s not your fault,” he says again. His words hit me in the gut. This whole time, I was making myself physically stronger but never mentally.

I might know how to defend myself now, but I never tried to heal my heart. My brain.

Jaxson was right.

I needed this.

It might take months. Hell, it might take years, but I will rebuild what my husband took away from me. I will emerge like a phoenix. New. And stronger.

It might be a long road, but I’ll get there.

I know I will.

* * *

With the weeks that have passed, Jaxson and I have become closer. I still see Preston once a week, and it helps to talk through the nightmares. I also spend my free time training. Every day, I become a little stronger. I am almost back to the way I was before my picture frame went missing.

Almost.

Today, I have a few errands to run. My hair color is growing out, and I need to buy another box to redo it. Just because months have passed and Riley hasn’t found me doesn’t mean I can grow complacent. I have grown more lax, no longer wearing clothes two sizes too big, and I don’t wear a hat, but my hair color is the one thing I won’t change back yet, even though I’m stronger, it helps me move freely around the city and still feel safe.

I hop in the shower and get ready to leave the apartment.

With my body wrapped in a towel, I reach into my duffel and go to grab a shirt.

I really need to unpack, but I don’t want Jax to think I’m moving in and taking advantage of him.

I’m fishing around in the bag when my hand touches something.

My chest constricts. It feels like there is a vise around my heart, and it’s tightening.

What the hell?

I wrap my palm around the item.

Its cold surface sends a chill up my spine.

I didn’t pack this.

How did it get here?

A ringing in my ears grows louder and louder until it is so loud, I feel like my eardrums will burst.

My hand is now in front of me. But I’m too scared to look at what I have clutched in my hand.

It can’t be.

But as much as I refuse to look, I know it.

I would know the size and shape of the item anywhere.

My ring.

My palm opens and confirming my fear, the platinum band glares at me.

My ring is in my hand.

The ring I left in my house.

The ring I left in my house when I left.

He’s found me.

* * *

Jax isn’t here when I arrive at the warehouse. I need to tell him what I found. I think about going to his office, but the more time that passes, I think about how crazy I sound.

There must be some reasonable explanation for why my wedding band is in my bag. The day I left, I was frantic and a mess. Could I have placed it in my bag and not realized it?

Yes.

I could have.

He hasn’t found me. Again, it’s paranoia having its way with me.

It’s the only thing that makes sense.

If Riley was here, I’d be dead already. Why take my frame? Why leave the ring?

No. It makes no sense.

I’m being silly.

Signing on to my computer, I use the fake account to see what is happening back home. I’m not dumb enough to think Riley would post anything, seeing as he has no social media account, but I can look into what my company is up to.