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Authors: Cathrina Constantine

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BOOK: Don't Forget to Breathe
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Epilogue

Somehow he finagled it, Dad had been granted immunity. He would not be prosecuted for withholding evidence and systematically exonerated by a voice mail message he’d saved on his cell: “
Paul, when Leo gets home from school we’re leaving for California. It’s been over between us for a while and I’ll retain a lawyer to discuss custody. I can’t stay in the Hallow another day. I should’ve explained sooner. I’m worried and…scared.” She pauses here, breathing raspy. “I thought I could handle it. There’s someone…he’s—” Then a clanging doorbell and pounding and Lily’s frightened whisper, “Oh God, he’s here.”
The message ended with a click, and Lily’s phone was never recovered.

Dad, completely shaken and couldn’t drive, hence Regina drove him home. They found me passed out in the hallway and Regina phoned 911 from my cell. He hadn’t provided the evidence when he was being grilled by the police. He thought it might incriminate him as a partner in crime due to his work discrepancies. He’d fled the murder scene, traumatized, dazed, and scared shitless.

It had been Ethan who tackled me in the attic that day when I unexpectedly showed up. The day I’d found Mom it had been Henry who said, “I’m not going to kill you. Not yet.” The feel of his clammy hands that covered my mouth and the tangible marijuana odor had been prevalent then and, the day Detective Dyl died. If the vase hadn’t broken in the Lucien mansion, deterring Henry, it makes me sick to think what would’ve happened. I deemed Mom had a hand in that. She’d been with me the whole time, and knew I’d be the next victim. She saved me and helped to uncover her killers.

It was over. Case closed.

People are flawed—big time. I learned it the hard way, a lesson that sliced a cavernous scar into my heart. A scar that swells and blisters on occasion.

In Dad’s defense, I’d been a prime witness to his self-punishment. He loved me. Would I ever forgive him for remaining silent, for leaving me alone, for being a coward? It had been complex to shorten Mom’s saintly pedestal. My love for her would be everlastingly.

***

The brisk autumn afternoon and Losson Park was aglow with the last vestige of colorful leaves. We’d gathered for the traditional Turkey Bowl, tag football game. My first year competing and I was hyped, much improved than cheering on the sidelines. Participating in the game I set my sights for my boyfriend.

“C’mon, Becket.” Reggie acted as defensive linebacker. “Throw the ball. I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re hurting, bro. My teammate will take it easy on you when she comes in for the sack. Won’t you, Leo?” He rascally winked.

“Sure I will, Reg.”

Becket shouted to his teammate, “Nona, go long.” The petite spitfire sprinted downfield to our makeshift goal, cans of soda lining the zone.

Reggie was hot on her tail and I made a bee-line for Becket. He lobbed the ball and crouched low, taking the full impact of my body into his arms. We tumbled and rolled onto pliable grass, laughing.

Crutched on his elbows, Becket gazed into my face, eyes vibrant and alive. He delicately plucked a piece of hair from my lips and whispered, “Leocadia, I’ll always love you.”

I smiled and shivered in anticipation, and to seal his promise, he kissed me.

 

The End

 

Acknowledgements

I was ecstatic when my publisher, SJ Davis at Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly, emailed me saying how much she loved ‘Don’t Forget to Breathe.’ It’s such a wonderful feeling to see your hard work coming to fruition. I’m truly grateful and indebted to SJ Davis for offering me this opportunity. Her ‘Yes’ made Don’t Forget to Dream a reality. To Elizabeth Anne Lance for her expertise in editing Don’t Forget to Breathe, which I know wasn’t any easy task. To Rue Volley for creating a phenomenal cover, which I absolutely am in love with. I’m indebted to everyone on the Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly Team for their hard work, support and encouragement!

To my family who put up with me when I turn into a zombie at the computer. To all my friends and support group and especially all my readers, I wouldn’t write without you!

 

BOOK: Don't Forget to Breathe
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