Nixon nodded and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with a sleeping Chase and a note that was burning a hole through my hand.
I closed the door to the room and walked over to the chair. With shaking hands, I opened the journal entry.
I can’t protect her anymore. I want to. But I can’t. I don’t know what the hell to do. Mil, if you’re reading this, you’re either a sneaky bitch, or I’m dead. What other reason would you have to go through my stuff? You’d want clues. You’d want to know about our family’s history even though I’ve sent you as much information as I can without getting totally blacklisted.
It sucks.
Life sucks.
I’d die happy if I knew you were happy. Funny, I’d always thought of myself as being a purely selfish individual, until my father married your mother. Then this fierceness took over, this desire to shield you from the ugly of the world. Your fifth birthday you wanted a pony and got yelled at for being such a child. Remember? Later that day, I asked Nixon if Mo had any old pony toys. She did, of course, because the girl was obsessed with horses, just like you. I wrapped up two ponies and put them under your pillow.
For five years I did that.
Five years you had ponies under your pillow. You were devastated when you turned ten and found out that there was no such thing as a pony fairy.
I wanted to keep you innocent like that.
I wanted you to always believe in the pony fairy. Funny, because when you discovered it was me — your eyes were as big as saucers, almost like I was your hero, when I knew I would end up being the exact opposite. Things with Dad were getting progressively worse, the nightmares, The Cave. All of it. It made me sick.
And then a girl was brought into the cave who looked just like you.
I lost my shit.
I beat Father within an inch of his life.
That’s when I knew I would have to kill him. I went to Tony Abandonato for help. You know what he did? He sold me out.
I would never be free.
But I knew one day you would. I know I’m getting off track here, but I guess… wow, if I could say a few last words. What would I want to say? Most people don’t get to plan their own funeral, and I know this is depressing as hell. But my wish? My desire? Is that you find a man crazy enough to put ponies under your pillow. A guy that loves you just as you are, a guy that makes you laugh with your whole body. Someone who would sing you a song, just because he thought it would bring a smile to your face. A man that would take a bullet for you.
I saved the white horse for last.
It’s somewhere in my room. Who knows if it’s even there anymore? I could be eighty, and you could be reading this now. At any rate. I figured the white horse would be last. For when you got married. I’d give it to the lucky bastard as a joke then punch him in the face for sleeping with my sister.
I hope you found him, sis. I hope you found someone who would make you happy. And I hope you find peace. Spending your life trying to find light within the darkness isn’t in vain — it’s why we have hope. When you’ve lost hope, you have nothing. I lost mine awhile ago. I hope to God you still have yours—
Phoenix.
The sobs started heaving so hard that I couldn’t control the whimpers coming from my throat. I hugged my knees to my chest and rocked back and forth. He’d died too young. He’d made so many mistakes. But he’d wanted — he’d wanted so much for me.
“Mil?” Chase whispered. “Are you okay? Sweetheart? Are you crying?”
He flinched as he pushed himself up onto his elbows and then reached out a hand.
I didn’t need to be asked twice. I launched myself into his arms and sobbed against his chest. I told him about the letter.
And Chase, my Chase, after a few minutes of silence said, “I’m going to find that damn white horse if it’s the last thing I do.”
I laughed. So did he. And it felt good to laugh. It felt good to be free. I said a prayer for Phoenix. A prayer of thanks — a prayer of love.
Chapter Fifty
Nixon
I fidgeted with my tie and slapped Tex’s hands away as I fixed my hair. I looked like a total idiot. A black suit? What the hell had I been thinking?
“You look hot.” Tex nodded. “She’ll totally marry you in this.”
“You’re not helping.”
Tex grinned.
“Ready?” Mo clapped, looking right through Tex to me.
“Yes. I think.” I started pacing. “What if she thinks it’s a terrible idea?”
“She won’t,” Mo said while Tex said, “She may.”
“Nixon?” Mil walked into the waiting room. “I think everything’s ready to go.”
“Thanks, Mil.” I was relieved the tension was gone between us. Well, as gone as tension can be when you’ve shot at the person your best friend married. Whoops. “Is Chase ready?”
Mil saluted. “Clothed in his best-man clothes and grinning like a fool.”
“Damn morphine.”
“He uh…” Mil’s eyes bore into mine. “He forwent his pain meds this last hour. He wanted to remember everything.”
“I bet he did.” I laughed. “Okay, let’s do this.”
I went into the small hospital chapel, followed by Mil and Tex. Mo was on Trace-duty. She’d lied to Trace and told her we were going out to a really nice dinner. She’d even taken her to a stylist so she could pick out a kick-ass dress. My way of apologizing, again, for a vacation that had ended up in bloodshed.
“Why are we here again?” Trace’s voice echoed down the hall.
“Oh, I thought we should say goodbye to everyone. They decided to hang out with Chase since he’s so bored.”
“Chase gets bored all the time. What else is new? And did they move his room?”
Chase chuckled from the front pew.
“Here they are!” The doors to the chapel burst open.
Mo may have overdone it with the surprise in her voice, but it was all worth it to see Trace’s face. Her eyes narrowed in on the flowers filling the room, and then she looked at Mil, dressed in a pink flowing dress, Chase dressed in a tux, Tex in a tux, and then me.
“What’s going on? Are we all going to dinner or something? And why are we in a church? Oh my gosh.” Her face paled, “Chase, you’re okay, right?”
“Ready?” Luca cleared his throat ignoring Trace. He walked to the front and held out a Bible.
Really, it was shocking that he was allowed to even hold a Bible, let alone conduct a ceremony. Then again, my whole life I’d played by the rules. I’d bled for them. I’d fought for them. For once, I wanted to break them. I was going to break Catholic tradition. I was going to break the whole long engagement tradition, and I was going to marry my lover, my best friend, in a hospital, with one of the scariest men I’d ever known conducting the ceremony.