Faceless

by Alexandra Ivy

  He could see soot staining her face, but no visible injuries.

  “I’m fine.” She glanced around, her eyes filling with tears. “But my poor restaurant.”

  He grabbed her hand, urgently pulling her out of the building. “The fire trucks are on the way,” he assured her.

  She jogged next to him, glancing over her shoulder at the fire. “What about Ollie?”

  Noah didn’t hesitate. “Let him burn.”

  Epilogue

  It was a miracle that the weather decided to cooperate as Wynter stood on the hill behind her grandpa’s farmhouse. The afternoon sunlight drenched the fields and shallow dells, revealing the first sprinkling of wildflowers and the green leaves beginning to unfurl on the trees.

  Everything appeared fresh and new and magical.

  This was why her forefathers had settled here, she suddenly realized. This view. This rich, fertile land. This opportunity to make their claim for the American dream.

  A bittersweet acceptance settled in her heart, providing a layer of peace over her grief.

  The past two weeks had been a bleak effort to pick up the shattered pieces of her life. Not only her restaurant that was still drying out from the overenthusiastic spray of water from the fire trucks. But the unraveling of Oliver Wheeler’s secret life. He was currently sitting in jail, refusing to speak, but she was confident the police would find the evidence they needed to tie him to the crimes. Including her mom’s murder.

  And then there was her grandpa.

  Wynter had no idea how to deal with his betrayal. She couldn’t forgive him for the damage he’d caused, but then again, she couldn’t erase a lifetime of love. In the end, it didn’t matter.

  Two hours after Ollie had struck him on the head, Sander Moore had died. She never had a chance to speak with him, but Wynter had come to terms with the aching sense of loss.

  A part of her suspected her grandpa had willed himself to death. It was easier to slip away than to face the consequences of his dreadful behavior.

  The emotional toll might have been overwhelming if Wynter hadn’t had Noah at her side. She’d heard about someone being a “rock,” but she’d never actually had anyone in her life she could depend on. Not until Noah.

  As if sensing her thoughts, Noah moved to stand next to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She tilted back her head to study his face that had healed of the lingering bruises. The trauma of the past days would take longer to heal.

  On the other side was her dad, providing his own surprising reassurance.

  Since her grandpa’s death, the two of them had gradually started to talk. Edgar had admitted that he’d followed his wife to Pike. And that he’d even gone up to the cabin with the intention of confronting the two lovers. Instead, he’d returned to the hotel, using poor Linda Baker to forget his unfaithful wife. He’d been driving back to Larkin with Linda when the cops were trying to get ahold of him to tell him of Laurel’s murder.

  They’d discussed the fact that he’d never gotten over the death of his wife. And their mutual trauma to discover Sander was behind her death.

  Wynter had begun to hope that they might forge a new relationship. And maybe when she had her own kids they could—She hastily cut off the direction of her unruly thoughts, touching the bracelet she wore around her wrist. It was the bracelet that she’d found in her mom’s cabin. It was an unspoken acceptance of her beautiful, loving, tragically flawed mother.

  Noah was already hinting at a large brood of children. And the image of her holding their baby in her arms was enough to make Wynter melt in anticipation. But first she intended to plan a beautiful wedding, followed by an extended honeymoon at her mom’s cabin and then on to Miami for some sun and fun on the beach.

  “Are you ready?” Noah whispered in her ear.

  Wynter hesitated. He was referring to the urn she held in her hands. But when she nodded, Wynter was thinking of much more than saying good-bye to her grandpa. She was preparing to look forward to her future.

  “Ready.” She opened the top of the urn and tilted it to the side, allowing the ashes to catch on the brisk breeze. They swirled and danced through the air before lightly landing in the field below. “Be at peace, Grandpa.” Turning her head, she met Noah’s watchful gaze. “Let’s go home.”

  He smiled, turning to lead her toward the Jeep.

  There were a thousand tasks waiting for her attention. Wynter Garden, this farm, the greenhouses. Even her truck that was still waiting at the shop.

  Today, however, she was going to spend soaking in a hot tub, wrapped in the arms of a man who had taught her that true love wasn’t a dark, jealous emotion. Or a cold, distant punishment.

  It was two halves coming together in peaceful harmony.