Epilogue
HAILEY
It had been two days since the confrontation with Mark. Lucas and I were making dinner in the kitchen. I’d told him about my idea of leading some vet groups on ski trips, adding to his offerings. I wasn’t a counselor and knew nothing about how to help anyone with any kind of psychological care, but I could ski. I could be the guide and ensure everyone was safe and had fun.
He’d loved the idea and Cy had agreed it would be a great addition. Lucas and I had gone to the office, had phone conferences with the contracted psychologists, and plans for adding ski activities to the winter schedule were taking shape.
My life was taking a different direction, but I was excited. It held promise. Hope, and not just for me. I’d be helping others and doing it with the men I loved. It was real now, and it felt amazing. Fun. And by fun I meant falling more and more in love.
Cy came in from doing chores in the stable. He didn’t give me the usual kiss I’d been expecting. When I turned to face him, I froze.
“What’s the matter?”
He looked like the Cy I’d first met, the rifle-toting, angry man who’d thought I was a hooker. Lucas lifted his head from the inside of the fridge, slammed it shut.
Cy dropped his cell on the counter. “My father’s dead.”
My thoughts swirled. Dennis Seaborn was dead.
“How… what… how?” I asked, sounding like an idiot.
“That was a lawyer in town.” Cy ran a hand over his beard, shaking his head. “I’m next of kin. Hell, I’m the only kin he had.”
“How?” Lucas asked.
“He had pancreatic cancer.”
“Holy shit.” Lucas let out a harsh breath. “I only saw him from the truck when we went to his house, but he didn’t look sick, only… old.”
Cy nodded in agreement. I’d only seen a picture on the news and it had been a mug shot. He’d looked like a weathered, unhappy, late-fifties version of Cy.
“He had scheduled a Whipple procedure. I have no idea what that is, but some kind of surgery. He didn’t make it off the table.”
“Did he tell you he was sick?” Lucas asked.
“Not a word.”
I went over to him, wrapped my arms around him, hugged him close. He might be big and brawny, but I’d learned he was vulnerable, too.
His hand settled on my head, stroked down my braid. “That’s not all.”
I pulled back, looked up at him.
“He left me three million dollars.”
I stepped back, stared. I glanced at Lucas, who looked as stunned as me. As Cy.
“What the fuck?” Lucas whispered.
“That was my first thought,” Cy said. “The lawyer said he’d come into some money recently. He’d set it all aside for me. The instructions were clear.”
Lucas paced the kitchen, then slapped his hand on the counter. “You don’t think—”
“He manned up,” Cy said.
“I don’t understand,” I murmured, watching both of them carefully. While they looked confused, they seemed to know things I didn’t.
“That’s what he said to me when I asked why he’d admitted to killing Erin.”