I stared into his panicked eyes and kept walking. It took everything in me to hold my fear inside my body. It took everything in me to seem somewhat calm. “I’m not scared of you, Tanner Michael Chase. I’m not.” I stepped closer to him and lay my hand against his cheek. His eyes dilated, and his breaths became heavy. “I see you.”

He closed his eyes, running his face against my hand. “Jesus, Liz. You’re all I wanted.”

My mouth hovered over his and I felt his hot breath against me. “I’m yours. I’m yours. We can run away with each other,” I said, my hands falling to his chest. “We can start all over.”

“Just us?” he whispered.

My forehead fell to his. “Just us.”

His free hand wrapped around my lower back, and I shivered at his touch. His fingers pulled up my shirt, and he felt my bare skin. “God. I’ve always wanted this.” He sighed against my neck, kissing it lightly, sending chills throughout me. His tongue slipped from his mouth and landed against my skin, licking me slowly.

We heard the sound of the shed doors opening behind us, and Tanner’s eyes shot open. “You bitch!” he hissed, looking betrayed by my closeness. He shoved me to the ground and held his gun up, seconds away from shooting toward Tristan, who had just disappeared into the shed. As Tanner went to chase Tristan, I grabbed his leg, making him fall to the ground with me.

The gun slipped from his grip, landing between us. We both leaped up to grab it, and we started wrestling with one another. The gun was clasped in both of our hands, and Tanner shoved me with his elbow, slamming it against my eye. “Let it go, Liz!” he shouted, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. Tristan had to get Emma out safely. He had to save my daughter. “I swear to God, I’ll shoot you, Liz. I love you so fucking much, but I’ll do it. Just let go. Please!” he cried.

“Tanner, don’t do this!” I begged him, feeling my hold on the gun slipping. “Please,” I pleaded, wanting this terrible nightmare to come to an end.

“I loved you,” he whispered, tears falling from his eyes. “I loved you.”

The sound of the gun firing one time was what I heard first. We wrestled one another. The second fire, I heard next. Then a burning sensation crept into my gut, making vomit rise up my throat. My eyes were wide, terrified by all of the blood. Was I bleeding? Was I dying?

“Lizzie!” Tristan yelled, hurrying out of the shed with Emma in his arms.

I turned to him, my body in a state of shock, completely covered in blood that wasn’t mine. Tanner lay under me, his body motionless as blood spilled from beneath him. Oh my God. “I killed him. I killed him. I killed him,” I cried, shaking uncontrollably.

By that point everyone who’d been inside my house was standing in the backyard. I thought I heard yelling, shouting. Someone said to call 911. A hand landed against my shoulder, begging me to stand up. Emma wasn’t breathing, someone said. Another voice told Tristan to keep doing CPR. My world was spinning. Everyone was moving in slow motion around me. The red, white, and blue lights in front of our house were burning into my soul. Professionals took over caring for Emma. Mama cried. Faye sobbed. Someone shouted my name.

There was so much blood.

I killed him.

“Lizzie!” Tristan said, knocking me back into reality. “Lizzie, baby.” He bent down and placed his hands around my face. My tears fell against his hands, and he gave me a broken smile. “Baby, you’re in shock. Were you shot? Are you hurt?”

“No, I killed him,” I whispered, turning my head to look at Tanner, but Tristan refused to let me.

“Baby, no. No. It wasn’t you. I just need you to come back to me, okay? Lizzie. I need you to put down the gun.”

I stared down at my blood-covered hands, which were still clenching the gun. “Oh my God,” I murmured, dropping the gun to the side. Tristan was quick to lift me up into his arms, away from Tanner’s motionless body. My head fell into his shoulder as I watched cops and paramedics rush over.

“Where’s Emma?” I asked, turning my head back and forth, searching the area. “Where’s Emma?!”

“She’s on her way to the hospital,” Tristan explained.

“I have to go,” I said, getting out of his grip. My legs were trembling, and I almost fell to the ground. “I have to go make sure she’s okay.”

“Lizzie,” he said, shaking my shoulders. “I need you to focus for one second. Your eyes are bugging out, your heart rate is through the roof, and your breathing is chaotic. I need you to let this paramedic check you out.”

His lips kept moving, and I narrowed my eyes trying to hear his words, but they just turned to mumbles.

My body went limp, my eyes crossed.

Everything faded to black.

“EMMA!” I shouted, opening my eyes and sitting up. A sharp pain shot through me and I lowered myself back down. My eyes glanced around the room, and I took in all the machines, cabinets, and hospital supplies.

“Welcome back, darling,” Mama said, sitting beside my bed. I narrowed my eyes, confusion pulsing through my head. She bent forward and ran her fingers through my hair. “It’s okay, Liz. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“What happened? Where’s Emma?”

“Tristan’s with Emma.”

“Is she okay?” I asked, trying to sit up, but the pain shot across my side. “Jesus!”

“Relax,” Mama ordered. “One of the bullets hit you in the side. Emma’s okay, we are just waiting for her to wake up. She has a breathing tube in to help her a bit, but she’s okay.”

“Tristan’s with her?” I asked. Mama nodded. My mind started to play catch up as I stared down at my body. My left side was wrapped in bandages, and my body was covered in blood, some that was mine, some that was… “Tanner… What happened to Tanner?”

Mama frowned. She shook her head. “He didn’t make it.”

I turned my head away and stared out the window. I wasn’t certain if I was filled with relief or complete confusion.

“Can you go check on Emma?” I asked. She kissed my forehead and told me she would be right back. I hoped she wouldn’t rush, though. Loneliness seemed right to me.

Chapter Forty-Three

Tristan

I sat beside Emma’s bed, staring down at a little girl who had been through more than any five-year-old should ever experience. Her small lungs were working hard as she inhaled and exhaled, her chest rising and falling. The small breathing tubes going through her nose brought back so many terrible memories. The beeping machines around her reminded me of the day I last held Charlie’s hand.