Page 58 of Shattered

Delia looked at me, shocked. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Because Elena was talking about my letters. Letters I’d written when I was sixteen and stupid and couldn’t keep my feelings contained anymore. Letters I’d hidden in my room at the Santoro house and thought I’d destroyed before I left for college.

But she was calling me her husband.

“Mom, I don’t understand.” Delia’s voice was gentle. Patient. “Jake wrote me letters?”

“Yes! No.” Elena’s confusion was growing. “Not Jake. The other one. The boy. The one who stayed. The one who was always there.” She looked at me again. “You wrote them. Tell her. Tell her about the letters.”

She was looking right at me. Calling me Jake. Mixing up the names completely.

“Mrs. Santoro,” I started.

“Tell her!” Elena’s voice rose, sharp with urgency. “Tell her Jake is the wrong choice. She’s thinking about going back to him but it’s wrong. It’s all wrong. The letters prove it. You love her. You’ve always loved her.”

Delia’s face was pale. “Mom, you’re confused.”

“I’m not confused about this.” Elena grabbed Delia’s hand tighter. “Jake is wrong for you. The letters say so. He wrote them. He wrote how much he loved you. How he’d always love you. Don’t go back to him, sweetheart. Don’t make the wrong choice.”

Then something in her eyes shifted—went distant, the clarity slipping like sand.

“Where is Jake?” she asked suddenly. “Did you marry him yet? Is the wedding today?”

Delia’s face crumpled. “No, Mom. The wedding didn’t happen. Remember?”

“Oh.” Elena looked around the room like she was seeing it for the first time. “Where am I? This isn’t my house.”

“You’re at the care facility” Maria said gently from the doorway. “You’re safe. Everything’s okay.”

We stayed another twenty minutes while Maria helped Elena settle. By the time we left, Elena had forgotten we were there—forgotten the letters, the wedding, everything.

In the parking lot, Delia finally looked at me. “She’s completely lost it.”

“It’s the disease.”

“I know.” She leaned against my car. “But she was so insistent—about the letters, about Jake being wrong. She really believed it.”

“She was confused.”

“Was she though?” Delia studied my face. “Was she though?” Delia studied my face. “The way she looked at you… calling you Jake… it was like she knew something but couldn’t get the words right.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Couldn’t confirm it without revealing everything. Couldn’t deny it without lying.

“My mother was right about one thing,” Delia said quietly. “Jake is the wrong choice.”

My heart stopped beating.

“I’ve known it for days,” she continued. “Maybe weeks. But I couldn’t admit it because admitting it meant acknowledging something I wasn’t ready to face.”

“Delia—”

“Jake is familiar. Safe, in a twisted way. Even though he hurt me, I know him. I know what being with him looks like.” She was staring at her hands. “But you… you’re terrifying.”

“I’m terrifying?”

“Yes. Because choosing you means starting over completely. It means trusting someone new. Building something from nothing. And if it doesn’t work, if you leave too—” Her voice cracked. “I won’t survive it, Axel. I barely survived Jake. If I choose you and you leave, it’ll destroy me.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You don’t know that.”