Page 47 of Beyond Redemption

Trenton looked up at me, then slowly stood. I could see the forced control in his eyes, his chest rising as he fought the adrenaline in his veins and the rapid thud of his heart, jaw set to the point of strain.

I’d seen Trenton angry before. I’d practically raised him and had seen his every expression, mood, meltdown and victory. This wasn’t him angry. He was using every ounce of self-command he had to keep from completely losing control.

One thing I could be sure of, even now, he loved Olive more than he hated me, and he was fighting every instinct to stay with her.

“C’mon, kids,” Camille said, standing with Oliver in her arms. “Wanna play on the bunks?”

The younger kids nodded, excited. The twins hesitated but followed her out.

Trenton waited, then turned back to me. “You don’t get to explain it again,” he said. His voice was tight, controlled in a way that didn’t match his body. “I’ve heard your reasons. I understand your reasons. That’s not what this is.”

I stayed where I was, shoulders squared, hands open at my sides. Not defensive. But ready. Trenton could lose the battle with himself at any moment. Camille saw it, too, that’s why she took the kids and left the room.

“What this is,” he went on, “is you deciding—by yourself—that I could live the rest of my life thinking Olive was dead.”

My throat tightened. I didn’t interrupt.

“She died,” he said. “That’s what you let me believe—knowing I’d just lost Dad and was still grieving the miscarriage. You stood there and watched me carry an empty casket. You watched me spiral. You watched me break. You watched it affect my marriage, the way I experienced the birth of my child, fatherhood. And you never thought, maybe—just maybe—, you could trust me with the truth?”

I was glad Liis was outside with Olive. This wasn’t her fight. This was blood.

“You didn’t have to put us through that,” Trenton said, stepping closer. Not into my space, but close enough. “You could’ve pulled me in. You could’ve pulled Falyn in. You could’ve found a way to keep it quiet. You know damn well we can keep our mouths shut.”

“As I explained outside, we didn’t have time to develop another option,” I said. “A plan that required flawless execution from everyone, including children, carried unacceptable risk.”

“There it is,” he snapped.

“Trent…” Abby warned.

He scoffed at her, then glared at me, his eyes full of disgust. “Risk. Your favorite word.Youdidn’t trustusto keep Olive safe?MyOlive. Camille’s Olive. Taylor and Falyn’s Olive. It wasn’t your decision to make!”

“The Bureau gave her new documents, a new life, and they did it because I asked them to,” I said, pointing my finger at my chest. “Itwasmy decision, Trent. It’s the only thing that’s kept her alive thus far. It’s not that I didn’t trust you… I didn’t trust the variables.”

He laughed—short and ugly. “Oh, so now it’s the math. As if the people who love Olive and our misery are part of a fucking equation.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you thought, though! Tell me I’m wrong!” His hands were clenched, knuckles whitening. “You always fuckin’ do this, Tommy. You wrap up the hard shit in logic, so you don’t have to feel anything.”

“That’s not what this was.”

“You didn’t have to put us back together,” he said, pointing. “You were on the East Coast while the twins asked Travis every day when Olive was coming home, and then why she wasn’t. Do you have any idea what it’s like to hurt like that—grieving your father and having to hold it together for your kids as they realize death doesn’t follow the rules and that kids die too?” he said, his voice ragged. He pointed to Travis. “Hedoes. It wasn’t you who had to pretend you didn’t see it when Falyn covered her mouth and cried herself to sleep so her husband wouldn’t ask her for the millionth time how he could help. That wasTaylor. You didn’t help Camille pour the whiskey down the sink before I drank it all. You didn’t sit in my shop at three in the morning, staring at Olive’s drawings like they were the only thing you had left. You didn’t take Taylor’s calls when he panicked every time Falyn shut down or spiraled or when she served him with fuckin’divorce papers.” Three times, he pounded his finger so hard into his chest I could hear it. “That was me!” he roared.

Trenton took a few breaths, willing himself to calm down, his next words softer and broken. “You didn’t talk Tyler down when he called, frantic about Taylor, because he was afraid he was going to lose his twin who was in the darkest fucking place we’d ever seen him.” He pointed to his chest again, looser as the exhaustion set in. “That was me.”

The sheen in his eyes made me hate myself, but I held it together.

“You think I didn’t understand that it hurt you? That you would grieve? I did. I thought about it all and still decided it was the best way to keep her safe.”

“She wasn’t yours to save!” he growled. Falyn stood up, touching his arm, and he forced himself to relax. “You stole time, Tommy. You stoleyears,” he said, his voice breaking. “Helping her pick out things for her dorm. Celebrating test scores and grades. Birthdays. Christmases. Thanksgiving. Finals. Her first love. You…” He shook his head, disgusted. “You, who didn’t care if he had kids or not—who had one on accident, as a fuckingoops—experienced those things instead of me. Instead of Falyn. Instead of Shane and Liza. Do you have a clue what that did to them? They had to bury both their children. They almost got a divorce. Falynhasfiled for divorce! And you were just going to let Taylor lose the love of his life?”

“Trenton!” Taylor yelled. “Enough!”

Falyn covered her mouth with the back of her fingers, her eyes wet.

Trenton realized he’d said too much and paused, his hands perched on his hips, staring at the floor. He sniffed once. “Two and a half years of Olive’s life we’ll never get back. I… Part of me fucking died with her, man. I helped raise her. I promised to always keep her safe, and I thought I didn’t. I thought I let herdown,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “All those tears, the whiskey, the fucking nights on my knees, praying to God, wonderingwhy!” His entire body shook on the last word, his fists at his side, his face bright red, and the veins in his forehead and neck bulging. “And for what?” he spat. “She’s still not safe.”

Of everything Trenton said, that hurt the most. His words were indisputable. I’d made the decision to put my family through unimaginable pain, and here we were, positioning for war.