Page 64 of The Guilty One

With Tate home, everything is back to normal. I’ve never seen the boys so happy. Having their dad back, everything is suddenly right in the world.

I, better than anyone else, understand how important family is. For years, Lane and I struggled to have children of our own, and when we became foster parents, our hearts were broken again and again when babies we loved and cared for and protected were taken away from us, given back to the very people who had hurt and neglected them, only for those same children to return to us years later, even more hurt and lost than before.

When we met Tatum, we were told he was a lost cause. A boy no one wanted growing into a man no one would know how to love. But I thought we did. I thought our love could save him. I thought, given enough time, we could fix him.

But we couldn’t. I saw that, though by then, it was too late. In every way that mattered, he was ours. He was surrounded by good boys, boys who cared, boys who tried despite their flaws. I hoped they’d influence him, but instead, he manipulated them.

It killed me to watch it happen, but despite everything, I loved him. He was my son in every way that mattered, and I would’ve gone to the ends of the earth to protect him.

I’m ashamed to say it now, but the day we learned he was dead, my first feeling was that of relief. I had spent years waiting for the day we’d get a phone call telling us that he’d killed someone, or taken a gun into a classroom, or something equally horrific. I understand now that there was nothing we could’ve done to fix him. Therapy didn’t work because he wouldn’t go to it. Unconditional love only made him angrier.

He was who he was before he found us, and there was no way we could’ve fixed him. It’s a hard truth, one I still struggle with, but it is the truth.

Which is why, when the boys came to me and told me what they’d done, asked for my help in going to the police, I told them no. I protected them because no one had ever protected them before. I loved them in a way only a mother can, and I was their mother.

I was their mother in the only way I could be, and had Tatum not forbidden the idea, had I not been afraid he might murder them in their beds if I did it anyway, I would’ve adopted them as soon as I met them.

There was nothing I could do to go back and fix that then, but I could protect them at that moment, and I did. Convincing Lane to go along with it wasn’t easy, but he understood. He loves those boys as much as I always have, and he’d do anything to protect them, too.

So we lied. We switched their identities. We made it all up as we went along and protected them with everything we had, and by some miracle, it worked. I said goodbye to one son—the guilty one—and protected the others.

I won’t say it was easy because it destroyed me, but it was necessary. Just as other things have been necessary. When Tate told me Bradley was going to tell, I knew it couldn’t happen.

I sent Lane, who couldn’t reason with him, and then I stepped in. I never planned to hurt him. It killed me. It still kills me. My nightmares will forever be tainted with the way he looked when I hit him with that rolling pin. Had I believed there was any chance I could convince him to change his mind, I would’ve, but he was a man in love. Therefore, he was a fool.

Lane doesn’t know. He can’t. No one can.

Just as no one can know that I was going after the others next. Not Aaron—I knew he was just as freaked out as Tate after talking to him—but Dakota needed to know there were consequences if he ever got any ideas like Bradley had. I wasn’t going to harm him, of course. I had no reason to. I simply wanted to fire a warning shot.

Keep your mouth shut and protect us all. Because my baby has babies now, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose the family I gave my blood and sweat and tears for over someone else’s guilty conscience.

I am not a monster. I am a mother, but when our babies are threatened, I’m not entirely sure there’s a difference.

While Tate and Celine tuck the boys into bed, I step out onto the porch to listen to the crickets chirping. It’s so peaceful out here.

I did that.

If I hadn’t acted, this family would be in shambles. I protected their peace, and I protected mine.

My phone chimes with an email, and I open it, reading through the message. It’s an automated review request from my favorite bookstore. Normally, I’m happy to review and help the authors I adore, but this time, I think I’ll keep my opinions to myself. I press the button to delete the email and am met with a pop-up.