“Makana means ‘gift,’ right?”

Ransom had explained his baby sister’s name once we’d left the studio two days ago. But when we hadn’t come up for air until the next night, Kona’s pervy radar was on high alert. He kept hinting and remarking about the way we walked, and how relaxed we were with each other. Asking questions about his new baby was about the only way I had to distract him.

“That’s right,” he said, bringing the baby to me. “Beautiful, just like her mama.” Kona winked at Keira who watched me closely as I sat down with the baby. Kona lingered, just a little, couldn’t seem to stop kissing her forehead or rolling around that single curl that twisted at the top of her dark, thick hair.

“She is,” I agreed.

“Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on,” he whispered, but kept his attention on his daughter as he spoke. Then, Kona smirked. “You come in here looking like you haven’t slept in days, just like Ransom did this morning, and yet you’re both smiling like you have the most wonderful secret. I’m not blind.”

“But you are nosy,” Keira said, pretending to be distracted by the quick click of the television as she pointed the remote at it. “Get over here and let her enjoy the baby.”

He laughed as he obeyed, maneuvering his massive body next to his wife’s. I couldn’t hear what they were saying in those low whispers, and I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know, so I kept my attention on the tiny baby in my arms.

Her skin was precisely the color of Ransom’s and her mouth was Kona’s, thick bottom lip and pronounced dip in the cupid’s bow. But her eyes were not narrow like any of the Hale men. Like Koa’s eyes, Makana’s was rounded and I suspected both she and her older brother would have lighter eyes, eyes more like Keira’s.

“Have you guys brought Koa in to see her?” I asked, adjusting that sleeping bundle to my chest.

“Yeah,” Keira answered, nudging Kona when he stole the remote from her. “Leann brought him in yesterday.” She gave me fake frown. “He wanted to know where you were and was completely disinterested in his little sister.”

“Sorry. I’ll go by and see him today, maybe take him for some ice cream when Ransom gets back.”

“He’d like that.” Keira said, snuggling against Kona’s chest. She didn’t look directly at me, but still smiled like her thoughts were distant. I wondered what she thought seeing me hold her daughter and hoped there wasn’t some weird ideas forming in her head about the future and more babies sleeping against my chest. Me zanmi, non! I was only nineteen.

“Where is Ransom?” Kona asked, his focus supposedly on whatever football game happened to be showing on the hospital TV at the moment. “I figured he wouldn’t let you out of his sight after all that time…ow, Wildcat, easy with the elbows.”

I ignored their bickering and Kona’s prying and rocked the baby when she started to fuss. “He said he had to take care of something on St. Charles and he…” The clatter of the remote on the floor stopped me cold. Kona jumped up from the bed, and stared straight at me. “What?”

I’d seen that fear in Kona’s eyes only once before, and that was three days ago when we had no idea what would happen to Keira. “What did he say exactly?”

“He said there was someone he had to talk to.” I shifted the baby when she started to whine. “I asked who and he said it didn’t matter that it wouldn’t take him long to get to St. Charles and back, then he’d meet me here.”

Keira rested against her bed, frowning as Kona slumped next to her.

“Modi, Kona, what the hell is going on?” The baby was fully awake and I gave her to Keira when the woman stretched out her arms.

“How long ago?” Kona asked.

“Just about fifteen minutes before I got here.”

His jaw tightened, but he nodded and I swore I could almost make out him working through whatever plans ticked around in his head. “Wildcat…” he told Keira, holding her face still to kiss her.

They looked at each other for a few seconds, holding each other’s gazes like they spoke a language with small twitches on their mouth and slow blinks.

“He has to do this,” Keira said, holding Kona’s wrist.

“What if he…” Kona’s voice cracked and he dismissed the slip in his composure with his hands over his face.

“Warren is mean, but he isn’t stupid. No matter how much he hates Ransom, he would never be careless.” When Kona continued to frown, Keira pulled his face back up, holding his chin. “He has to do this,” she repeated, moving her fingers over her husband’s face.

“Okay,” Kona said, but he didn’t sound convinced. He sounded, in fact, a little lost.

“Hey, come on now,” I said, wanting to break the tension in the room. I had no other ideas how to fix this, or what the hell Ransom was up to. “Whatever it is…”

“He’s gone off to see Emily’s father.” Keira’s voice was low and she leaned back against the mattress with her baby on her chest and her eyes closed.

“What?”

She shook her head, like she also wasn’t convinced that Ransom should be left on his own as he sought whatever forgiveness Emily’s father might give him. “He told us, before he went to you that he wanted to apologize. He said it was a bridge that needed to stop burning.” Keira winced when Kona grunted, when the big man gripped the edge of the mattress like it was the only thing keeping him in the room. “Kona didn’t want him going on his own.”

“Maybe it won’t be…” but I didn’t finish that thought. I’d seen that man’s eyes the day we were in Tremé. He’d stared at Ransom like he wanted to rip him limb from limb. There had been a cold, angry hatred flashing in that man’s eyes. “Kona…” I started, suddenly petrified that what I’d finally found might soon be taken from me. “You aren’t going to stop him?”

“No, Aly Cat,” he said through an exhale that seemed forced. “No. There are some battles you have to let your children fight on their own.” He looked down at the baby nestled against Keira’s chest. “Even if it scares the hell out of you.”

The house reminded me of something MTV would rent for Real World. It was sick rich, with ridiculous things like two ballrooms and a media room with a screen nearly the same width of the wall that lifted and lowered beneath the floor with the push of a button. The house itself was similar to the one Dad owned for years before he made the final move to the lake house—Greek Revival with large, secured wrought iron fencing around the entire acre lot and massive columns running along the front porch. There were two balconies off the back of the house and a pool with slick, blue tile along the bottom.

This was no home, never had been. From the looks of it as I sat on the curb, working up the nerve to actually get out of my car this time, not much had changed since the last time I had stepped foot on the property, well over a year ago.

Today I didn’t hide beneath the oak limbs and wisteria vines. Today I’d be right out in the open.

Mr. Warren was walking around the yard with his gardener when I pulled up to the sidewalk, pointing to the weirdly shaped bushes that lined the walkway. Some were shaped to look like lions, others were trying to mimic the round bodies of elephants and, by the glare the man gave to the gardener, he wasn’t happy with any of them.

I could have waited until his mood was better, but I was pretty sure that day would never come. Even when I was with Emily, before the naked texts, Warren had been harsh, very snobbish and always an asshole; he had never liked me, period. But, I wasn’t doing this for him. He likely wouldn’t hear me anyway. I was doing this for me, for Aly. To silence that voice for good so we could start realizing our potential, together.

I got out of my car and slipped through the open gate, catching the gardener’s eye as Warren continued to berate him. The worker knew who I was. He’d been working in the backyard the day I’d snuck out of Emily’s bedroom at six a.m. I had no idea if he’d ever ratted me out, didn’t much matter now, but as I approached and I caught his gaze, a small grin moved across his mouth.

“Comprende jackass? No frayed leaves, no bare limbs sticking out on the bushes. For Christ’s sake, as much as I pay you, you’d think you could manage that!”

Yep. Still an asshole, that hadn’t changed. I cleared my throat and Warren whipped around to glare at whoever had the audacity to interrupt him. When he recognized me a split second later, I knew instantly this had been a mistake.

If possible, that already red face got brighter. “Arturo,” he started, his voice hinting at a barely contained enraged tone, “Call the police.”

“Wait,” I said, holding up my hands, palms out, and Arturo didn’t move. “Please, just let me say what I need to say and you will never hear from me again.”

Warren turned around fully, breathing through his nose so quickly that his nostrils flared. “What exactly do you think you could say to me? Huh? There isn’t a fucking thing I want to hear from you.”

He looked older up close, and even though it had only been a week since the festival, I could have sworn he’d aged even since then. “Mr. Warren, I just wanted to say…”

“What, you little shit?” He pushed me then, full of fire and venom and I let him, I took each tap on my chest because I needed this final punishment. I would let him tell me he hated me, that he wished I’d died that day on the lake. After all, that’s what I had prayed for out in that water. I was ready to hear all that from him.

“I…I’m sorry.” The words came out faster than I could help and when they did, that angry expression on the man’s face fell completely. I dug Emily’s necklace from my pocket and offered it to him, but Warren only stared at the chain dangling from my fingers. He didn’t push me again. Instead, the man stepped back, retreated quickly up the stairs and into that ridiculous mansion. “Shit,” I mumbled running my hands over my face.

“Leave, chico, before that pendejo comes back.” Arturo moved his chin toward the gate and I sighed, realizing that my small apology would have to do.

“Thanks, man,” I told him, meaning I appreciate his kindness, but he only shrugged in return, nodded again and I turned, heading for the gate. I almost made it, came to within three feet and then I heard the slam of that front door and Arturo screaming something loud, a Spanish oath I knew didn’t mean anything good.

“Señor Warren, no! No!” Arturo’s voice elevated and then he grunted as he wrestled with his employer.

One glance over my shoulder and I recognized the glint of metal from the nine millimeter, the one the man had used to threaten me with before. I ran for the gate, making it to the large oak tree behind the sidewalk before the first shot rang out.

“Don’t run, you little shit!” Warren’s voice was manic, crazed and I leaned against the tree praying that some sense would come back to him. “Face me like a man!”

There was the gravel on the drive way crunching in the struggle of grunts I heard from Warren and his Spanish-cursing gardener and then, another shot sounded.

“Loco pendejo!”

“Please, Mr. Warren,” I said, inching around the side of the tree to watch him. “I know you hate me. I know I deserve it, but please, let me say what I have to. Man to man, let me face you.”

Arturo had wrestled the gun from his boss and Warren’s face had reddened in the exertion. “You come to my home after what you did? Disrespectful, arrogant…”

He was right. Head in my hands, I realized how this looked, how he’d see me as nothing more than a begging kid. You don’t win back your honor by forcing your hand. I knew that. I should have taken my lumps and moved forward. It was Warren’s choice to make here, not mine.

“Please,” I tried again, slowly leaving the safety of the oak tree when Warren took a step toward me empty-handed. Another step away from that tree and I faced the man, only twenty feet separating us. “Please hear me out before you do something we’ll both regret.”

Warren was out of breath and angry—his splotchy complexion was pink and those eyes had darkened, filled with a frustration I could understand. He’d lost something precious because of me. I got that. If I’d been in his shoes, I’d want to strike out, destroy whoever had taken from me.

I held up my hands, walking toward him, my steps cautious. “Nothing I say will make up for what I did.”

“You’re damn right.” He didn’t move, let me come to him.

“I…I loved her.” That anger on his face, the same expression I’d seen from him that day in Tremé dimmed a little bit then, though he still looked ready to strangle me. I exhaled and stuck my hands in my pockets. “She was my first love.” He waited, eyes tight and I slipped my gaze down to the driveway. “I should have protected her.” I’d take his hatred. I’d take whatever he wanted to give me, but I wouldn’t do that looking at the ground like a coward afraid of his anger. Instead, I lifted my head and stared right into his eyes. “I wished…for a long time I wished it had been me that day, not her. Not Emily.”

“That would have been my preference.” Warren took a step forward, brushing off Arturo’s hand on his arm. “If I could get away with it, I’d put you in the ground.”

My jaw felt tight, but I tried to push down my anger, tried to understand the threat for what it was—loss, desperation. I relaxed the clench of the tight muscles around my mouth. “And then?”

“What?” Warren asked, still glaring at me.

The fear from minutes before came off of me like I’d stripped it away. When I spoke, my voice was calm, level. “Then what else would you have done? What would you do after you killed me because you lost your daughter?”

“Because you murdered her!”

“No!” I shouted, wanting to push the man back, to deflect his hand on my collar when he grabbed me. I didn’t. I could only clamp down my anger. “It was an accident. It was careless and stupid and it was my fault, but it was an accident. And I have spent every day for the past year and a half punishing myself for what happened.”

“It’s nothing to what I’ve felt! What we’ve all…” Warren said.

I let the man scream at me, but wouldn’t let him push me again. Then, I repeated something that Kona had told me after the accident. I hadn’t understood it at the time, I hadn’t wanted to hear it, I hadn’t wanted to hear any kind of advice or counsel from anyone, the hurt was too deep, too fresh, too huge. But now, I understood. Now I could see the truth in it.

“Grief joins you closer to another human being more than love.”

“Yes,” Warren shouted, eyes closing tight, “but grief hurts less.”

“I know that.” I touched Warren on the back, careful, slowly and the man did not jerk out of my reach. Warren kept his eyes on the ground. “It’s a burden I’ll carry with me, always.”

“Words. Those are only words,” Warren said.

“But I mean them.” Warren didn’t want to believe me, I knew that. He only wanted my blood on his hands and his daughter back at his side. But I couldn’t give him what he wanted and I wouldn’t live in the past. Not anymore. “Mr. Warren,” I said, holding his gaze again, “She…she was my first love, no one else will ever get that.” I swallowed, wishing that my voice didn’t break, that I could clear that clot from it. “Part of me died that day too. I…I wanted to die, I prayed so hard it would be me instead of her. I wanted it to be me and I…” I sniffled, encouraged by how Warren’s features began to relax. “I am so sorry I took her away from you. I am so…so unbelievably sorry.” And right there, standing on that perfectly manicured lawn, I cried in front of Pat Warren because I had loved his daughter more than breath. I cried because I had let her die. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do to bring her back, but if there was, I’d do it. You could kill me if you want but that wouldn’t bring her back and it would only reap more sorrow on the family you do have, which is the last thing Emily would want. But Mr. Warren, with everything I am, everything I’ll be, I’m so very, very sorry.”

When I couldn’t see anything for the tears clouding my vision, I wiped my eyes, covering my face in my hands.

Warren knelt down, picking something off the lawn that shined and glinted in the sunlight. “I…I can’t ever forgive you.”

“I never expected you to.”

“I’m just not that good of a person, Ransom,” Warren said, staring down at Emily’s chain. I looked up at him, but didn’t say anything. Forgiveness had nothing to do with whether a man is good or bad. If Warren needed to hold on to his anger, I couldn’t argue with him. It was his burden to shoulder.

It was only then that I noticed the people on the front porch—a boy with Warren’s mouth and long nose and Emily’s mother, a picture of what the girl I’d loved would have looked like if she’d survived that day on the lake.

Warren didn’t seem aware of either of them until his son met him at the bottom step and took the necklace his father offered him.

As I got back in my car and glanced in my rearview mirror, they disappeared inside and I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of my own heartbeat and the traffic up ahead. Nothing else would battle for space in my mind. Not anymore.

That was the day I silenced the voice forever.