I nod automatically.“I’m fine.”
I’m not fine.I’m a live wire inside my own skin.But if I tell him that, he’ll worry even more.He already looks like he’s bracing to hold the sky up for me.
So I pretend.
And he lets me.
For now.
Hawk helps me up, his hand steady at my elbow.
We walk back down the hallway in silence.I feel his eyes on me, worried, searching, but I keep my gaze fixed ahead.If I look at him too long, I’ll break.
Back in the waiting room, I glance again at the shelf of dusty books.My chest tightens.
“You sure you’re okay?”Hawk asks again.
“Yeah,” I say quietly.“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
I swallow.“About how some rooms never leave you,” I say.“No matter how far you run.”
He nods, like he understands, but he doesn’t.Not really.
He doesn’t know what it’s like to be sixteen, to have your father hand you a choice that tears your soul in half.To live every day since then trying to atone for it.
He doesn’t know that tomorrow morning, while he’s still asleep, I’ll drive to that address in the pink envelope and offer myself to the man who helped ruin my life in exchange for the girl I swore to protect.
He doesn’t know that every time he looks at me like I’m something precious, I feel the weight of what I’ve done pressing harder on my chest.
And he doesn’t know that no matter what that vial of blood reveals—whether I’m dying or not—I’ve already decided how my story ends.
I’ll trade my life for Belinda’s.
Gladly.
But tonight…
Tonight, I’ll let myself have one more moment of peace.One more night of warmth before the cold takes over again.This time forever.
Hawk slips his hand into mine as we walk back to the waiting room, and I let him.His palm is rough and steady, and for a second I can almost believe I’m just another woman leaving another doctor’s office.
But I’m not.
I’m a woman with ghosts that never stop screaming.
And the girl I couldn’t save is waiting for me in every shadow.
If this is the last day I ever see the sun as a free woman, at least I’ll remember how it feels on my skin.
What I don’t tell him is that the hardest part is yet to come.
Because tomorrow morning, I’ll put on the blue dress the Chef asked for and I’ll go to him.
Alone.
And I’ll make sure that this time, someone else gets to walk away.
I try to sniff back tears.
I’m unsuccessful.
