“How are you?”

“I don’t know. Okay, but also terrible.”

I nodded. “They told me you weren’t injured.”

“No, just a little bruising, but it’s not bad.”

A wave of emotion crashed over me. My chest felt like I was trapped under a pile of bricks, the weight crushing my lungs.

“Asher, I—”

“I’m accepting the plea bargain,” I said, interrupting her. I needed to get this out. “First-degree manslaughter. Eight years in prison.”

Her lips parted, and for a second, she didn’t speak. “So… that’s it?”

“That’s it. No trial.”

“You mean, it’s official? It’s done?”

“There’s going to be another hearing. After that it’s over.”

“Can you change your mind? Can you tell them—”

“No. This is my best option.”

Tears filled her eyes and I forced myself to maintain eye contact. To not look away. “But… eight years?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Swiping beneath her eyes, she took a deep breath. Straightened in her chair. “Okay. Eight years. It could have been worse, right? This is fine. We can do this.”

I put my hands on the table so she could see the handcuffs. “No, Grace. We are not doing this.”

“What?”

“I have to do this. This burden is on me, not you.”

She shifted away slightly, eying me with suspicion. “What do you mean?”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to say. What I had to say. “None of this is your fault. And I’m so fucking sorry, Grace. But it’s over. You’re not going to wait for me, and we’re not getting married when I get out.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t want this any more than you do. I don’t want any of it. But I have to live through it. I don’t have a choice. And I refuse—I fucking refuse—to ruin your life any more than I already have.”

“You haven’t—”

“Listen to me. Please.” My voice broke and I swallowed down the emotion threatening to choke me. “You have to take that ring off and move on. Go back to school. To WSU—don’t stay here in this town. Finish your degree and then start your life. I can’t give you a future. Not anymore. You have to go out there and live your life. Find someone who makes you happy. It’s what you deserve.”

She stared at me with her mouth slightly open, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Grace, you have to let me go.”

I needed to cut this short. Letting her go was the hardest thing I was ever going to do, and if I stayed with her much longer, I’d crack. I couldn’t afford that. If I walked through those prison gates wounded and bleeding, they’d rip me to shreds.

I had to be hard. Impenetrable.

“Spangler?”

“Asher, don’t.”

The deputy opened the door and poked his head in.

I stood.

“Asher.”

Spangler’s eyes flicked between me and Grace. I jerked my head in the direction of the holding cells, and he nodded.

I stepped out ahead of him.

“Asher, don’t do this.”

He fell in step behind me. I didn’t ignore Grace’s pleas for me to wait. I heard them. Let them sink in. They were a conviction and punishment all their own. The price I had to pay for what I’d done.

17

Grace

The courtroom was packed. Only a handful of people had been here for the arraignment, but today it seemed like half the town was stuffed into the bench seats. The air was thick and stuffy, the temperature uncomfortably warm.

Gram sat next to me, holding my hand firmly in hers. Levi sat on her right, holding her other hand. She was seventy years old, sitting in a courtroom waiting to hear the fate of her oldest grandson. You’d think her hands would have been clasped with ours to give her strength. But she was the one supporting us. Her strength giving us hope.

The rest of Asher’s brothers were in a line on my left. Logan couldn’t seem to sit still. His leg shook next to mine, but I didn’t tell him to stop.

As for Asher, he hadn’t looked back. Not even once.

I’d told everyone about the plea bargain, so they knew what was coming. We also knew there was a chance the judge would impose a different sentence than the recommendation in the plea deal. It could be longer. This could all be about to get worse.

Or maybe the judge would go easy on him. Perhaps six years instead of eight? Maybe five?

I’d been silently praying, pleading, hoping for a shorter sentence. Willing the judge to show some mercy. To give Asher a break.

I hadn’t told his family everything else Asher had said.

To take off my ring.

Go back to school.

Find someone else to make me happy.

Move on.

Let him go.

He’d broken up with me.

In the moments after he’d been led away by Deputy Spangler, I’d been numb with shock. I’d left the sheriff’s office in a daze, my heart in my throat.

Instead of going straight home, I’d driven around for a while. Finally I found myself stopped outside the old house on Evergreen Street.

It was about then that I’d gotten mad.

I’d flown out of my car, seething with anger, and started throwing things. Rocks, sticks, pinecones, anything I could find. I’d yelled, and cried, and hurled things at the side of the house.

Fortunately, I hadn’t broken any windows.

I was still mad. Furious, in fact. I was hurt and angry and frustrated. I’d been assaulted, and that one vile act had been like a bomb going off, ripping my life to shreds. I didn’t want anyone to be dead, but this entire thing was his fault. If he hadn’t dragged me out of that bar, none of this would have happened. He’d still be alive, and Asher wouldn’t be facing criminal charges and prison time.

We’d be planning a wedding. Not sitting in court, waiting for a judge to tell us how bad the future was going to be.

I shifted on the hard bench, but there was no getting comfortable. Gram squeezed my hand and I squeezed back.

We’d listened to the details of the plea agreement. The charges and suggested sentencing. Sat through the prosecution’s statement, followed by the defense. There had been explanations of the law and how it had been applied. The prosecution had given the reasons Asher deserved to be incarcerated. The defense had outlined the arguments for leniency in sentencing.

And now it was time for Asher to speak.

The judge called on him to stand. He got to his feet, still not casting a single glance behind him.

“Mr. Bailey, do you understand the charges brought forth against you?”

“Yes.”

“And are you making an intelligent and knowing waiver of your rights and making this plea of your own free will?”

“I am.”

“Mr. Bailey has entered a plea of guilty to the charge of manslaughter in the first degree, as agreed upon by the state. The court has taken the sentencing recommendation into account. Asher Bailey, this court sentences you to eight years in a state penitentiary.”