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I’m frozen for a fraction of a second, barely noticing Lucia take off while I watch Gail. “Fuck me,” I murmur under my breath. She’s wearing a snug dress that hugs her curves, and there’s more roundness to her belly that wasn’t there the last time I saw her.
Seventeen weeks pregnant, and she’s glowing like the break of dawn after a long, dark night. It’s not just the baby—it’s everything. Her presence fills up the empty spaces inside me with something warm and terrifying. Happiness.
“Hey,” I force out, my voice rough as gravel.
“Hey, Soren,” she says, approaching me with a hesitant smile that almost knocks the wind out of me. Her black and white hair dances in the wind, and those piercing blue eyes are fixed on mine, looking for answers I don’t know if I have. “What are you doing here?”
Driven by the sheer need to touch her, I close the distance between us, my arms encircling her with an urgency that borders on desperation. “God, Gail.” I keep it to a whisper, afraid if I speak any louder, this moment will shatter.
She leans into me, her arms sliding around my waist, tentative as if she’s testing the waters. But then she melts against me, and it’s all I can do not to crush her to me and bury my face in her hair.
“Is everything okay?” she murmurs against my chest.
Of course it’s not okay; nothing has been fucking okay since she left me and Mickey.
Swallowing hard, I step back, breaking the embrace. “You look incredible,” I rasp.
“Thanks.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous tick I’ve come to find endearing. “Why are you here?” There’s suspicion mixed with hope in her voice.
“I needed to see you,” I admit, because playing games feels like a piss-poor idea when every second without her feels like a penalty I didn’t earn. “It’s been too long.”
Gail nods, chewing her lip in that way she does when she’s mulling something over. Damn, if it doesn’t make me want to lean in and kiss the worry away. But I hold back, knowing this moment isn’t about what I need—it’s about what she needs. And right now, she needs honesty.
I tilt my head toward my car. “There’s somewhere I wanna take you if you’re up for it?”
Her hesitation is a palpable thing, hanging heavy between us. “Where?”
“Somewhere we should’ve gone weeks ago.” I keep it vague; the less she knows, the better. For now.
“Okay,” she breathes out, her trust in me a lifeline I’m terrified of breaking.
“Thank you,” I murmur, leading her to the car. The door shuts with a thud behind her, and as I slide into the driver’s seat, I feel the weight of her gaze on me. I don’t meet her eyes, can’t afford to get lost in them, not when I’m about to lay bare my soul.
The engine roars to life under my command, and I guide the car onto the road with practiced ease. Every mile we cover is one step closer to a reckoning, a crossroads I’ve avoided too long. And as each second ticks by, I realize that no matter how this ends, nothing will ever be the same again.
“Are you really not going to tell me where we are going?” Gail’s voice slices through the quiet, tentative yet laced with an undercurrent of steel she doesn’t know she wields.
“Is it… bad?” Her question hangs between us, and I can hear the unspoken fear. She’s scared of my world, of the shadows I dwell in. But I need her to see it, all of it.
“Depends on your definition of bad.” My words are cryptic, even to my own ears.
We roll up to the graveyard, and it looks like every other final resting place—stone angels judging silently, flowers wilting on forgotten graves. My heart’s thrumming so loud I’m convinced she can hear it.
I get out of the car and jog around to the other side, opening the door for her. “Soren,” she hisses. “Unless you’ve taken me here to kill me, you best start talking.”
“We’re almost there, then I promise I’ll tell you everything.” Taking her hand, I lead her along the rows until we stand before my twin’s grave, his name etched into the granite. “Meet Ryan.” My voice is rough, filled with gravel.
“Oh!” she whispers. “Will you tell me about him?”
“Ryan was… he was a damn trouble maker.” I half laugh, half croak. “Whenever we got into trouble, it was from an idea he’d had.”
“Sure it was,” Gail retorts.
“When he died, part of our family died too,” I confess, the words rusty. “Mom and Dad blamed me. So, I ran away, and ended up living with Nana. You’ve probably read all this shit online, but I needed to tell you myself.”
Her eyes well up, blue pools reflecting loss and empathy. The tears spill over, trailing down her cheeks, and it rips a hole straight through me. I pull her in, wrapping my arms around her trembling frame. Her warmth bleeds into me, a stark contrast to the chill of death lingering on the headstones.
“Hey,” I whisper, my lips grazing the top of her head. “I got you.”
