Chapter 47 #3
For kissing someone I never had the right to touch.
Not when I have someone who loves me wholeheartedly.
Someone who’s been so patient with me while I pieced together my whole damn life—literally.
Who welcomed Emilee and me into the world he shares with his family—folded us in, made room when their bond was already so tight—bending instead of breaking.
Love like that doesn’t come along often.
Especially when it’s stretched to breaking point.
Elijah’s serious black eyes burn with love as he removes the empty water bottle from my hand. He parts his shirt and places my palm over his heart—the same way Gabriel had in the limousine.
A familiar thump, thump pulses beneath my hand, and a wave of emotion crashes over me… Gabriel told me this is where he holds his family.
Without a doubt, this is where Elijah houses his too.
One love. One home. One family.
One powerhouse of love.
I know exactly what Elijah is telling me without words: This is where Emilee and I belong too—housed within these chambers of love.
And that’s exactly where I want to be.
But to live there, I have to let go.
Which brings me back to the very beginning, when a child was born, marked by a puzzle piece on her palm.
Her name: Ana.
The artist behind the puzzle tattoo: Meera.
And the mystery of Meera was set into play.
The players? Me and Gabriel.
The price? For me, it was my dignity—trusting someone I thought I loved, only to be fooled into such a twisted game.
But for Gabriel, it was so much more. His friendship with Meera cost him his marriage, a whole lot of money, and his pride.
Yet, he chose to stay in the game.
Even if it meant sacrificing his marriage.
All to keep his family safe. And keep a secret he should never have kept in the first place.
But everything he did was out of love. Gabriel loves his family—deeply. He’d set himself on fire if that’s what it took to keep them safe. Hell, he’d become the fire if he had to.
Looking back, I’m so thankful that he stayed in the game. Because now we all have each other, and truthfully, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
I’ll probably never understand what was going through Meera’s head when she constructed this puzzle. It’s shameful to think that she never even considered the damage this sick game could inflict on her daughter… on Ana.
That poor child was robbed of knowing me—her biological dad—and being raised alongside her sister.
But Gabriel stepped up. He made sure Ana wasn’t deprived of a family. That she was always surrounded by two parents who loved her so fiercely, they would do absolutely anything for her happiness.
And that’s exactly what Gabriel did—shielded her from the ugly.
For that, I am grateful.
In many ways, it’s ironic—puzzles are meant to be assembled, not dismantled.
Yet, Meera set out to do both. Maybe that’s what Gabriel meant when he said Meera had an uncanny ability to draw a picture within a picture—to craft something beautiful on one side and something quietly unsettling on the other.
But that’s art, right? Something Meera was undeniably brilliant at.
Still… to weave art into real life? To blur the lines, only to tear them apart again? To design an entire puzzle around a birthmark—just to manipulate the one person who vowed to keep her daughter safe? Who vowed to love her.
That’s not just brilliant.
That’s seriously fucked up.
Which makes me wonder about her mental state. Maybe Gabriel’s suggestion—that she had two personalities—wasn’t as far-fetched as I first thought.
What if her sketches weren’t just pictures within pictures… but thoughts layered over thoughts?
Clarity hidden in chaos.
I glance down at my wrist.
It’s the only puzzle piece that’s different from the rest. A stand-alone. Like a bridge to another fragment of her mind.
I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but… what if Meera started one puzzle—and Mimi began another?
What if there’s a whole other side I haven’t seen?
Another layer. Another secret.
Waiting to be revealed.
Is that even fucking possible?
And if so… then what?
What else could she possibly be trying to tell me?
Fuck, I can’t go there.
Because if I do… if I even entertain this idea of a split personality, then it means there’s still one more piece to this puzzle. One more connection I haven’t made.
And goddamn it, I’m afraid to even look.
I trace my fingertips over the strange shading in the tattoo.
“Could be rain,” Gabriel had suggested.
And Noah… “Do you see the rain?”
Oh god no.
No. No. Noooo…
My eyes burn.
I squeeze them so tight that stars burst behind my lids.
I take a breath, then another.
In. Out.
Trying to ground myself. Trying not to see.
But I know I’ll have to open them eventually.
I just… can’t.
Not yet.
I’m not ready to look into the rain.
Not ready to face what’s hiding behind it.
Because what if—when I finally do, when I finally really look—all I see are…
Tears?
“… and we hope you all enjoyed your evening at Gravity.”
The DJ’s voice tears through my thoughts, ripping me out of the storm in my head.
I pop my eyes open, startled. Rattled by my surroundings, like I just crash-landed back in reality.
Crash.
Plane crash.
Mom… Dad…
Rain… Tears…
“Remember to drive slow as you make your way home tonight,” the DJ adds, his voice sliding into something more deliberate. “There’s a reason for crooked roads, folks.”
My sister’s words echo in my mind as I glance up at the DJ packing up for the night.
“There’s a reason for crooked roads, baby brother. Treasures are found where few dare to wander. Take a chance, Alex.”
Elijah’s fingers gently curl around mine, pulling my hand away from his chest.
“Everything alright?” he asks, voice soft but steady.
I nod, but my chest tightens.
Because suddenly I’m seven years old again, staring out a rain-slicked window, waiting for my parents… waiting for a plane that never made it home.
Waiting.
It was the day I learned that love doesn’t always land safely.
For years, I cried nonstop. So many tears.
I remember them running into my dreams—alongside my parents—arms wide, faces blurred by my tears. But then… a faint whisper… a soft voice in my ear: love always finds a way.
“Yes,” I answer on a long-winded sigh.
Elijah squeezes my hand, his eyes searching mine—curious, steady… but above all loving. “Let’s go home, baby.”
Something inside me settles at his words. Like maybe, for the first time in a long time, I know where home really is.
I deserve this kind of love.
It’s taken me longer than I care to admit to even say that, let alone believe it. But standing here, with Elijah’s hand in mine, his voice grounding me… I feel it. Not just the love, but the truth of it. He holds my heart like something worth keeping.
Like I’m worth keeping.
We belong here.
All of us.
Gabriel too.
I’m done with straight roads. Done with straight, period.
I’m even done with my pretty dancer who appeared out of nowhere and ran rampant through my mind. I’m locking that door. Zipping that pocket up tight.
I’m taking a chance. And this time—
I’m going on an adventure of a lifetime.
From the corner of my eye, I spot the napkin lying next to a spill on the bar top. Instinctively, I know—there’s only one thing left to do before I walk out of here.
I let go of Elijah’s hand. Then reach for the napkin and crush it in my fist—like I’m trying to strangle something still breathing inside me.
Something beautiful and wrong.
Something that should have never touched my heart… but did.
With heaviness in my heart, I begin wiping up the mess on the bar… along with the one I’ve made of my life. Each pass of the napkin feels like letting go.
Lighter.
Freer.
I count to eleven under my breath. Then exhale—slow, measured. Releasing my guilt, my temptation, him…
My pretty dancer.
I turn toward Elijah. “Ready,” I say, meeting his eyes with a smile.
He nods, bending over to pick something up from the floor as I toss the napkin aside.
“What’s that?” I ask, watching him glance down at the paper before folding it in half.
“A poem… I think? I’ll just leave it up front in case someone comes back for it.”
He’s always so thoughtful—where I’d have crumpled it up and tossed it without thinking… he pauses, considers. That’s just who he is.
And somehow, that makes me fall for him even more.
I retake his hand, letting my fingers slide between his. “Okay,” I say, unable to hide my grin. “Let’s go home… and make this a night to remember.”
Behind us, on the floor where the paper had been, a second piece of parchment flutters loose—unnoticed.
My name is written on it.