Chapter 17 #2
“Let them,” Dakota said. “I’ll tell them exactly what kind of person Faith is. The kind who shows up. Who fights for people. Who—”
“Who told you revenge was underrated,” I interrupted, the memory hitting like ice water. “When Dakota was going through hell. That’s going to come up, isn’t it?”
Ryker’s expression darkened. “You said what?”
“It was a joke. Kind of. Not really. God, they’re going to crucify me with that, aren’t they?”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Ryker replied, but I could see the wheels turning, already strategizing damage control.
Just then, the back door opened, and Blake stepped through, still wearing his scrubs. His dark eyes immediately found me, scanning for signs of injury or distress.
“How’s your head?” he asked, moving toward me with single-minded focus.
“Blake, I’m fine—”
But he was already examining the bandage, gentle fingers probing around the edges.
“Any blurred vision? Nausea? Dizziness?”
“I’m fine, Blake. Seriously.”
His hands stilled, but his gaze drifted past me to take in the cramped backyard.
Then the peeling paint on the fence. The rusted gate latch.
Blake was a chronic worrier, the kind who catastrophized every potential danger within a five-mile radius.
It was exactly why I’d never invited him over before, and why I always drove to his place instead.
I’d known the moment my penthouse-living, safety-obsessed brother saw this neighborhood, he’d lose his mind.
Right on schedule.
“You’re moving in with me,” he announced.
“No, I’m not.”
“This neighborhood is a disaster waiting to happen.”
“This neighborhood is affordable.”
“It might be dangerous.”
“Blake”—Tessa’s voice was gentle but firm as she placed a hand on his arm—“I know you mean well, but just because homes are in need of TLC, it doesn’t mean the neighborhood is unsafe. You’re letting your fears become irrational. Let Faith make her own choices.”
God, I loved her for that. For him, too, even when he was being impossibly overprotective.
“Speaking of choices,” Tessa said, her eyes sparkling with barely contained excitement. I recognized the pivot for what it was—a deliberate subject change to pull Blake’s focus away from me. “We have news.”
“Tessa,” Blake warned.
“Oh, come on. They’re family.”
Blake sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Fine.”
“We’re trying for a baby!” Tessa burst out, practically vibrating with joy.
She meant well. And baby news was certainly more exciting than my impending murder trial. But the words hit me like a truck. A baby. My brother might have a baby.
And I might not be here to meet them.
Axel’s face scrunched up in exaggerated horror. “Oh God, TMI!” he groaned, covering his ears. “Nobody wants to think about Blake doing the deed. It’s like imagining your parents—”
“We get it, Axel,” Blake cut him off.
I had to admit, Axel’s dramatics softened the ache in my chest. When he locked eyes with me, I sensed that had been his goal all along. Sarcasm was Axel’s love language.
“Do you though? Because announcing you’re actively trying to procreate is basically saying, Hey, everyone, we’re having lots of—”
“AXEL,” multiple voices shouted.
But Scarlett was laughing so hard, she nearly spilled her wine, and even Jace was pressing his lips together to hide a smile.
“I’m just saying, keep that information to yourselves. Some of us are trying to eat here,” Axel pressed.
“We haven’t ordered food yet,” Jace pointed out.
“I’m eating mentally. In preparation.”
“Are you twelve?” Blake demanded.
“Are you ninety? Who announces baby-making at a bonfire?”
Dakota reached back and swatted his arm, but she was smiling. “Leave them alone.”
“I’m being supportive,” Axel protested, not sounding the least bit sorry. “In my own way.”
Despite everything, I chuckled. But it died in my throat when I looked at Tessa’s glowing face, at Blake’s protective hand on her shoulder. They were starting their future. Building a family.
All the futures spread out before me. Scarlett and Jace would probably get married soon. Dakota and Axel would too. Blake and Tessa would have beautiful babies. And I’d be … where? Behind bars? Missing every moment?
Grief hit me like a wave. A deep, visceral mourning for losses I hadn’t even experienced yet. For tiny fingers I’d never hold. For first words I’d never hear. For birthdays and bedtimes and all those ordinary, precious moments that would happen without me.
Then underneath the grief, something uglier twisted in my chest. Jealousy. If I went away, they would continue on nights like this, having bonfires, dinners together. They would get married, get pregnant, have babies, raise their families, and I would miss all of it.
It was reprehensible to feel jealous. I wanted them to move on.
They deserved full, happy lives, and the world wouldn’t stop spinning just because I was forever confined to a six-by-eight-foot cell.
Being jealous was wrong because it meant that some part of me wanted …
what exactly? Time to freeze? People to not move on with their lives if I couldn’t move on with mine?
How selfish.
“Congratulations,” I managed, my voice only cracking a little. “That’s wonderful.”
“You’ll be the best aunt,” Tessa said, and I had to look away before she saw my eyes fill with tears.
I caught Ryker watching me across the fire.
He wasn’t smiling like the others. He was just …
studying. Like he could see every terrified thought racing through my mind.
His hand twitched, like he wanted to reach for me, but couldn’t cross the distance between us. Not here. Not with everyone watching.
“Five more minutes,” Ryker said.
Five more minutes of normal. Five more minutes of pretending. Five more minutes before we dived into the nightmare my life had become.
I pulled the blanket tighter and watched my friends laugh around the fire, memorizing every detail. Just in case this was the last time.
I wanted to rewind the clock. Go back to Blake and Tessa’s wedding, when my biggest concern was whether the best man would notice me.
Back when Ryker was just the gorgeous, untouchable lawyer who made my pulse race.
When the most dangerous thing about that night was the possibility that we might hook up …