I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white as I sped toward the cemetery. The confrontation with Julian had left me raw, exposed, like an open wound that refused to heal.
"How dare he?" I muttered through clenched teeth. "How dare he accuse me of keeping Violet's death from him?"
Rain pelted my windshield, mirroring the tears streaming down my face. The wipers worked frantically, much like my heart that couldn't seem to find its rhythm since Julian had stormed out of my cottage.
I needed to see my daughter. I needed the peace that only sitting by her grave could bring me. Even if that peace lasted just moments before the crushing weight of reality returned.
The cemetery came into view, its iron gates standing sentinel against the darkening sky. I parked haphazardly, grabbing the fresh bouquet of lilies—Violet's favorites—from the passenger seat before stepping out into the downpour.
