Sachi knew from her father’s talks with the deputies involved in her shooting case a few months earlier that the person who’d loaned Jackson the truck he drove from Montana to Florida had paid for Jackson’s cremation and then scattered the ashes here at the graves of the mother and son.
The friend had also written a heartfelt letter of apology to Sachi and Mandaline for their inadvertent role in the attack, swearing that if they’d realized what he was up to, or had known where he was going, they would have called law enforcement.
She believed them. She had no reason not to, despite her father’s cynical view that they were trying to avoid a civil lawsuit.
That wasn’t something she was interested in pursuing anyway.
Sachi leaned down and tucked the other bundle of flowers against Michelle’s side of the headstone. Then she straightened, hands clasped in front of her, and stared at it for a moment.
Her men stood behind her, silent and supportive, their loving energy washing off them and through her.
“I’m sorry our paths crossed the way they did, Michelle. I know you didn’t blame me or my mom for what happened. The note you left said that much. I hope you’re at peace. I also wanted to tell you that I don’t hold you responsible, either. And while I will never absolve Jacob or Jackson for what they did, I do offer forgiveness. I can’t hold on to my anger and let it ruin my life the way it ruined Jackson’s.”
She took a deep, ragged breath and held her hands out in front of her, palms pressed together in a gesture of respect, and offered a slight bow. “Namaste, Michelle. Brightest blessings. I hope wherever you are, that your soul, and the souls of Jacob and Jackson, are at peace. Aho.”
Across the cemetery, a small flock of cardinals, male and female, took flight.
Sachi closed her eyes. Thank you, Mom.
With her arms hooked through John’s and Oscar’s they made their way back to the rental car and headed north toward I-90.
“Which way do you want to head, sweetie?” John asked. “East or west?”
She smiled. “East. I want to see Devils Tower.”
“Then east it shall be,” Oscar said from the backseat.
As Sachi settled in the passenger seat, her hand resting on John’s thigh, she glanced over the seat at Oscar.
Over the past couple of months she’d managed to develop a filter so their blue auras, and her own—which she now saw outside of a mirror—weren’t so distracting. She could almost filter them out the way she could other people’s auras.
Oscar smiled at her. “Mom and Dad asked me again about coming out there for Thanksgiving.”
“I think Ruth thinks she’s going to talk us into moving out there,” John said. “She’s been giving me hints.”
Sachi laughed and faced forward again, staring out the windshield at the road ahead of them. “Not a chance in hell of that. Florida is our home.” She was looking forward to spending this Thanksgiving with her father, the first one they’d spent together since she’d left home.
Maybe another Thanksgiving they would fly out, but this year, she wanted to be with her dad. Her men had agreed with her, and Lorie was going to join them all at Mandaline’s house for the first Thanksgiving they’d be hosting there.
She hoped Oscar’s parents’ feelings wouldn’t be hurt, but that was currently the least of Sachi’s concerns. Their friend, Libbie, who ran the bakery, was at the top of her thoughts.
The two hunks Libbie had recently rented an apartment to were meant to be with Libbie. Sachi could see it in their auras every time she was around the three of them, and Mandaline had verified that with observations of her own.
She suspected a jug of her special homemade spiked Samhain cider would be a helpful gift for the three. She’d have enough time when they returned to Florida to make a batch of it. It’d be over two weeks before Samhain.
“Whatcha thinking about so hard?” John asked her.
She smiled. “Oh, just plotting and scheming.”
“Libbie?” Oscar asked.
“Yep.”
“You and Mandaline are bound and determined to shove her at those two guys, aren’t you?” John asked.
“I sense a return of Dildous,” Oscar quipped.
She grinned. “What do you think?”
“Oh, boy,” the men said.
As she settled back in her seat, Sachi felt the smile on her face. It felt good.
It felt right.
Being happy felt right.
And she realized for the first time that, ever since meeting the men, she no longer felt lost.
THE END
TYMBERDALTON.COM
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tymber Dalton lives in the Tampa Bay region of Florida with her husband (aka “The World’s Best Husband™”) and too many pets. Active in the BDSM lifestyle, the two-time EPIC winner is also the bestselling author of over fifty books, such as The Reluctant Dom, The Denim Dom, Cardinal’s Rule, the Love Slave for Two series, the Triple Trouble series, the Coffeeshop Coven series, the Good Will Ghost Hunting series, and many more.
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Tymber Dalton, Lost Bird
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