Page 9 of Commit

I tell Barry, and he whips out his iPad to take notes as three dots flash on my phone.

Starling says she loved cherry blossoms. She thinks we should plant a cherry blossom tree for her and scatter her ashes there.

I tell Barry what they want.

“I might know someone who can help with that, actually. He has plenty of saplings on his farm. I’m sure he won’t mind parting with one for this.”

“Thanks, but I have a cherry blossom tree at home.”

“We did the same with my grandmother. She loved yellow roses, so we scattered her ashes around a rose bush and placed a plaque beside it. Even though she was cremated, we wanted her near my grandfather, so we planted the bush at the cemetery where he was buried. Do you know that rose bush went crazy over the years? I’ve never seen anything like it. Year after year, the roses would bloom, and each time, they’d come back better than the year before. That was forty years ago, and the bush is still going strong. I like to think it’s because she’s happy.”

Then that’s what we’ll do. I reply to Landon before sliding my phone back into my pocket and discussing the rest of the arrangements with Barry.

When we’re done, I stand up and shake Barry’s hand before pulling out a wad of cash. “You have my number, so if you need more, just message me.”

“Will do, but this should be plenty. When do you want the service?”

“Honestly, as soon as possible.”

“Alright, I’ll text you when I have things ready.”

“Thanks again, Barry.”

“It’s what I do, Pete,” he says simply before seeing me out.

Driving home, I think about what I’ve agreed to. It would seem like second nature to most people to bring their son into their home, but for me, it’s like taking on a Mogwai from the Gremlins movie. Feeding him after midnight might not cause me any problems, but me breathing the same air as Abbot might be enough to set him off.

Then I think about having a teenage girl in my house.

The last time I interacted with a teen girl, I was fucking one. Of course, I was a teenager myself, but times have changed since then. From what I gathered from Landon, this girl is coming with a huge truck full of baggage.

I’m man enough to admit I’m way out of my depth. I can do what Landon wants and provide a safe place for her, but he is seriously underestimating my ability to fuck things up. Most of the time, I don’t give a damn. I’m too stuck in my ways now to change. I am who I am, and everyone else can fuck themselves. But there’s a part of me that cringes at that right now. This girl doesn’t know me, but she’s important to my boys. The last thing I want is for her to be terrified of me.

That means trying to get to know her. If someone does come looking for her or Abbot, I need to be confident that she’ll come to me and tell me. She won’t if I don’t build some kind of relationship with her. I need her to trust me a little. As easy as it is to say, I think the reality will be far harder.

When I get home, I park in front of the house and climb out before heading for the door. I pause, taking everything in, trying to imagine seeing it through my son’s eyes for the first time.

I only bought it a few years ago, when the need to wander had finally subsided. The house itself wasn’t what sold me on the place, though. It was the land and how secluded it was from everything else. It’s like someone came along and dumped my house in the middle of nowhere, and honestly, that’s just how I like it.

Redwoods surround the house, which, I guess, is more than just a house. It boasts five bedrooms and seven bathrooms. The first floor has my office and den, a living room, the family room, a den, the dining room, and a state-of-the-art kitchen, while the basement houses the gym, game room, and home theater. Upstairs on the second floor are four bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. The main bedroom occupies the whole top floor and has a panoramic view of the property and the woods beyond it. If I’m having a shitty day, I can sit in my chair near the window and remind myself that there’s still some beauty in the world.

I let myself in and toss my keys on the table in the hallway before heading into the kitchen. I open the fridge, grab a beer, and chug the whole thing.

If there was ever a time for a drink, it’s now. I’ve gone from world-renowned hitman to stay-at-home dad in the span of a few hours.

Fuck it. Maybe more alcohol will help.

Chapter Three

Starling

Ikeep my mouth shut and my head down. If I blend in with the shadows, then hopefully people will forget I’m here.

I’ve never felt so out of place, and that’s saying something coming from someone who’s never really fit in. I don’t know or recognize a single person here, and none of them have introduced themselves or offered their condolences. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they came for the free food. I stare at the glass of water in my hand, wondering if I could sneak outside without anyone noticing. But that’s wishful thinking, especially with how many eyes I feel on me.

Maybe I’m paranoid. Or maybe I’m not. All I know is that I can’t wait to get out of this place and out of this fucking dress.

It seems especially cruel to be forced to wear something that belonged to the woman we just said goodbye to. Still, Landon insisted, and I know better than to argue. I might not be the smartest person in the room, but I know how to make myself less of a target. If that means doing shit I don’t like, like wearing a dead woman’s dress, then so be it.