“I was having a miscarriage. A very early miscarriage.” It comes out like a strangled breath, yet glaringly clear.
My vision blurs as my stomach drops in a free fall. One where it never lands, it just continues falling and falling and falling.
“I—I didn’t even know I was pregnant.” Her voice cracks, and the words seem to catch in her throat, but sheforces them out. “By the time I found out, it was already…over.”
Her gaze drops and when it lifts to meet mine, it’s shiny with tears that spill over in silent waves. My chest constricts, my heart struggling to pump under the magnitude of her confession.
“It was yours, obviously,” she whispers. “We were going to have a baby and I didn’t even know. I was so self-absorbed and wrapped up in my own shit, I didn’t notice I had missed my period. It was like the universe knew I was already a bad mom, and took the baby away just to show me how unworthy I was to begin with.
“I never told you because at first I couldn’t even process it. It was like I left my body. I wasn’t—I wasn’t there. I had completely disassociated.”A hollow, tear-laced laugh escapes her as she wipesunder her eyes. “You were the first person I wanted to call, but I didn’t know how to handle what was happening while also taking back the breakup. It was like something in me fractured that day.”
Her tears continue to fall, heavy droplets cascading down her cheeks.
“My professors pity passed me thanks to my mom and some carefully worded threats and then she took me home for the summer. I was like this ghost of a person. I hardly remember it, yet remember it so vividly it hurts. I’m sure that makes zero sense?—”
“No, I get it.” I clear my throat. “I understand. In my own way.”
Our gazes hold, a small sliver of time stretching between us. Life, losses, years slipping by, it’s heartbreaking. Something to grieve all on its own.
“I was there…that day you showed up. And I just couldn’t. I couldn’t see you when I was still so gone, so far away from myself I felt like a stranger, just going through the motions of what felt like someone else’s life. I didn’t know how to be the girl you loved anymore. I knew if I saw you, it would break me. It would break me to have to explain, and I wasn’t strong enough to do that. I didn’t want you to know, because even saying it out loud made it so much more real. I couldn’t. I’m sorry. I couldn’t do it.” Her voice grows thicker, barely coherent. “I’m a terrible person. I’m a coward,” she chokes. “You have every right to hate me. I shouldn’t have kept it from you. And then I was such a bitch because even ten years later, I still didn’t want to tell you—to deal with it. I’m not a good person.”
I can’t take this anymore. Watching her punish herself. It’s torture.
Instead, I gather her in my arms and hold her. Feel the tremors of her cries pass between us, absorbing them.
“I don’t hate you.” My hand runs up and down her spine. “I don’t hate you,” I repeat.
Maybe if I repeat it enough times, she’ll actually believe me.
CHAPTER 44
Dominic
I’LL WAIT
19 YEARS OLD
They say time heals all wounds, but whoever came up with that was either delusional or had a hell of a lot more patience than I do.
The last month has been the slowest, most agonizing stretch of time in my life. Ever since Ellie ended things, it’s like I’ve been moving in slow motion, trapped in a fog so thick I can barely see in front of me. The sun rises and sun sets, the world keeps turning, but I’m stuck. Stuck in the exact moment she told me we were over. I can’t focus, can’t make sense of anything. Everything feels hollow. Ellie isn’t just in my thoughts; she’s everywhere. In every song on the radio, every laugh I hear in passing, every memory that surfaces when I least expect it. And at night, when I close my eyes, she’s waiting for me. Her face lingers, haunting and comforting all at once. And the worst part? I crave it. I ache for those moments when I can see her again, even if it’s only in the fragile space between waking and dreaming.
If losing Ellie wasn’t enough, life decided to hit me withanother punch to the gut. A week after everything fell apart, my parents dropped the news; they sold the house. The house I grew up in, the one they promised they’d never leave. Now they’re packing up and moving to Arizona. Which leaves me with one final trip to Red Mountain, one last chance to get my things—and maybe get Ellie back.
That’s how I ended up here, pacing the driveway of the Ledger family home like some kind of stalker. For an hour now, I’ve been working up the nerve to knock on the door. My heart’s racing, my palms are sweating, and every logical part of my brain is screaming at me to turn around and leave. But I can’t. I can feel her here, like she’s an extension of me. It’s irrational, I know, but it’s the kind of irrational that makes me certain I can’t give up just yet.
Before I can convince myself to act—or run—the front door swings open. Leanne steps out like she’s been watching this pathetic display long enough. She walks toward me with purpose, and I freeze, rooted to the spot like a kid caught stealing cookies before dinner.
“I take it you’re here for Elyse,” she says. It’s not a question.
I nod, shoving my hands deep into my pockets to hide the nervous tremor. My eyes flick to the upstairs window, where the curtain sways ever so slightly, as if someone had just been there.
“She doesn’t want to see me, does she?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
Leanne doesn’t answer right away. Instead, her smile fades, replaced by a look of pity that twists something deep in my chest. “Come on,” she says, nodding toward a stone bench overlooking the vineyards. “Let’s sit for a minute.”
Reluctantly, I follow her, the crunch of gravel beneath our feet the only sound. The view from the bench is beautiful, the hills stretching out endlessly, rows of grapevines glowingunder the afternoon sun. But I can’t appreciate it. Not when I’m this close to the only person who can tell me what the hell went wrong.
Leanne waits a beat before speaking. “I’m sure this feels like the end of the world, but I promise you, it’s not.”
