Don't Close Your Eyes (Don't Look Series Book 2), page 25
That extra fifteen minutes changed my life. Took something from Taryn and me that we can never get back.
Three hundred and sixty-five days ago, when Taryn and I got home, our temples sweaty from toting our backpacks through the neighborhood like pack animals, the beat-up car I’d seen way too often around town was parked outside our house.
Inside was a macabre tapestry of crimson stains and the moans of chest-rattling death. No matter how many days pass, I won’t ever forget walking into that kitchen. Seeing my parents eviscerated and bleeding out on the tile floor.
I will never forget.
But with every new day, the sharp pain slicing between my ribs lessens. My lungs are able to take in just a little more air without being pierced and deflating. The nightmares come less often, fewer nights end with my chest heaving, flailing as I try to wrest myself from brutal hands and tangled blankets.
The memories of Mom and Dad that surprise me now—in something Taryn says, in something Justin or Karen does by way of their tentative grasp on parenting—don’t steal my breath or leave me gaping and dizzy like they used to.
I’ll never forget, but I will go on living.
Taryn and I are building new lives for ourselves with Karen and Justin. With Esau and Noah. With Fiona and Dariel and Viv and Marisa. With photography and theater and milkshakes. Justin has promised to teach us to water ski this summer, once the boat is repaired. Karen has been drilling us in self-defense on the off chance we ever need it again and don’t have a hot curling iron within easy grabbing distance.
The time-lapse I took of the milky way last night came out close to perfect.
Which is why, when Karen and Justin approached us, mumbling that there was an opening at the wedding venue—a cancellation that would allow them to have their special event on this day—a top contender for one of the worst days of my life—I didn’t say anything. I listened, waiting for the sting to rise. The pain to cut. When it did, it was manageable. I could handle it.
They asked Taryn and I if it would be okay to get married one year after my parents had been killed, on the dot. Taryn and I met each other’s eyes, a long look connecting between us. We told them yes.
Karen looks fantastic in the white silk pant-suit she decided to wear instead of a dress. Taryn watched a couple of tutorials online and figured out how to pull our agent’s hair into a chic chignon at her nape.
My twin and I are wearing knee-length dresses in a pretty eucalyptus green. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it was inspired by the tall, graceful trees in the grove behind our house. A place I spend a lot more time in, taking photographs and listening to music, now that I’m not worried about a shadow watching from behind every tree. Taryn’s blond hair is up in a crown braid. She whirls around, breathless with excitement. She adores weddings.
Gauzy white curtains covering the large window to the bride’s room dance in the air conditioning, granting me glimpses of the emerald lawn outside where Justin, Esau, and Noah wait in their suits. Two rows of chairs face the white-painted arbor draped by a vining rose bursting with peachy flowers. Noah says something to Esau that has him straightening the tie at his neck. My boyfriend takes his glasses off and cleans them on his coat before slipping them back on. Justin asked them to stand up with him, not for the lack of potential groomsmen he had back at the FBI, but because of what this day means to Taryn and me. Noah catches my grin through the window and mouths, “Wow.” It’s my favorite compliment he ever gave me, because it was the first. It’s one he repeats often when he and Esau pick Taryn and me up for double dates. Okay, date singular. It was a blast, but Taryn and I don’t have to do everything together, not anymore. Especially not dating our boyfriends. Sometimes a girl just wants time away from her mirror image, especially when it involves milkshakes, anime, and a cute guy. Am I right?
I slide into the mirror a few feet behind Karen, making sure my hair is holding the style Taryn crafted. My brown tresses are up in a crown that matches my sister’s, a few wisps loose around my temples. Crisp, spanking new Converse adorn my feet. A gift from Justin and Karen for our special day. Because they’ve made it clear that this day isn’t just about the two of them. It’s about the four of us officially becoming a family. Justin and Karen? They’re adopting us. Making it legal as soon as the courts say they can. So pretty soon, we won’t be a family just in our own hearts, but on official government paper too. I smile up at Karen from my spot on the ottoman when she turns from the mirror. “How do I look?” she asks, her quiet smile in place.
“Fantastic. Gorgeous. Justin will faint dead away when he sees you.” Taryn slaps the back of her hand against her forehead, staggering back as if physically struck by the sight of the bride’s elegance.
“You two are too much.” Karen shakes her head, amused, and beckons. She takes one of my hands and one of Taryn’s in a firm grip. “I never saw myself as a parent. Never wanted to have babies of my own. Especially in my line of work, it was difficult to picture going home from the office to kids who needed me. But I want you girls to know that this past year has been, well it’s been a challenge”—she laughs—“But I’m so grateful Justin and I were assigned to your case. I’m so glad I’ve gotten the privilege of watching you two rebuild your lives after something no child should have to experience. I want you to know I love you both, so much.
“And I know this day might be hard for both of you, so if you need to step away, that’s okay. I wouldn’t have agreed to do this if I thought it would hurt either of you, even a tiny bit. I’m just so ready to be married. It feels like Justin and I have been dancing around this for a long while, as partners in all ways, and it’s time. I hope you understand.”
It’s a surprise to see the shine of happy tears in her eyes. I give her a quick squeeze, and then Taryn does. All three of us wipe at our cheeks, laughing.
“Stop making me cry,” Taryn orders. “Marisa will be furious if the makeup she worked so hard on doesn’t last through the ceremony.”
I swipe the wetness from under my eyes, moving toward the door when someone knocks. The wedding coordinator announces it’s time to start.
The three of us link arms as we take the steps out into the vineyard, rounding the house toward where stringed music plays. Taryn starts up the path first, grinning at all of our friends as she passes, a single rose cupped in her hands. She stops at the top of the aisle, whispering something to Justin that makes him laugh. With a wink at Esau, she takes her place.
Three hundred and sixty-five days ago, my family was shattered. Irreparable. I never thought I’d have that again.
I was wrong.
So when I start up the aisle toward my new family, joy spills through my body like helium, making me feel lighter than air. I promised Taryn I would stop counting the days since our parents were killed, and I’ll keep that promise.
Because today isn’t just day three hundred and sixty-five.
No, today is so much better.
Today is the start of something brand new. Something I never thought I could have again.
A new family.
A permanent place here in Hacienda with friends I’ve come to love.
A house that has become a home I call my own.
Today? It’s day one.
Acknowledgements
Whenever I sit down to write a new book, the difficulty of it catches me off guard. You mean I have to make up a story? Construct characters that make readers actually feel things? String together events that, when taken together, create an engaging thread that makes sense? It blows my mind.
This, my thirteenth book, was much the same. Lucky for me, I got to journey forth with characters I know and understand. Even so, I still got it wrong sometimes, which my lovely beta readers Sarah Lusby Johns and Christina Kobel pointed out to me in comments varying from, “This sucks,” to “FLIPPING FANTASTIC.” Thank you, ladies, for reading this story so painstakingly, and helping me patch the holes. Thank you for rooting for Audrey and Taryn, Esau and Noah, and the rest of the Hacienda gang. This book would not be what it is without your help.
Thank you to each of my writer friends who encouraged me on the days when I wasn’t sure this book would ever get done. Autumn Krause, you rock for spending hours writing and brainstorming with me in our local coffee shop. Chelsea Ichaso, thanks for lending an ear when I have silly questions. Diana Urban, thanks for your entertaining reels that made me smile on the days I contemplated giving up.
Deepest thanks to each and every one of my readers, bloggers, booktubers, bookstagrammers, and booktokers for talking about this book. For posting about it on the endless void that is the internet. For adding it or reviewing on Goodreads. Each and every one of you is invaluable to me.
Lastly, I could never write another word if it weren’t for my husband, Adam, who works his butt off for our family while I chase my authorly dreams. I couldn’t do this without your love, support, and teasing about how long it takes me to put out a book.
Also by Emily Kazmierski
Don’t Look Series
Don’t Look Behind You
Don’t Look Too Close (a prequel novella)
Embassy Academy Trilogy
Deadly First Day
Lethal Queen Bee
Killer Final Exams
Ivory Tower Spies Series
For Your Ears Only
The Walk-in Agent (a Julep Short Story)
The Eyes of Spies
Spy Your Heart Out
Spy Got Your Tongue
Over My Dead Body
Other Novels
Malignant
All-American Liars
About the Author
Emily lives in sunny Southern California with her husband and daughters. When she's not writing, she enjoys cuddling with her two dachshunds, Nestlé and Kiefer, making homemade ice cream, watching television, and enjoying the sunshine with her daughters and their flock of backyard chickens.
To learn more about Emily, visit her website: www.emilykazmierski.com
Emily Kazmierski, Don't Close Your Eyes (Don't Look Series Book 2)
