Chapter Twenty #4
Strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Even surrounded by all the visceral reminders of his loss, Seth pulled her back against his solid chest and held her tight. He buried his face in her hair and comforted her, even though he must be bleeding inside.
He finally faced Beck, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked. “I had a lot of dark days. Hell, years. The holidays are still hard. And I’m really not…good on Christmas Eve. I lost everything that day. But now…look what I’ve gained.”
His words made her cry harder. Because yes, he had them now. But that didn’t erase the pain. Nothing would.
“God, I’m sorry. So…fucking sorry.” Beck sounded closer, his voice thick with emotion.
“I’ve been riding you. Pushing you to get over it, move on, start a family.
Like it was something simple. Like grief was a switch you could just flip and—” His voice broke.
“I didn’t get it. Not really. Until now. ”
“You don’t need to apologize.” Seth turned her in his arms, then wiped away her tears with a gentle swipe and a shuddering breath. “You’ve been patient, and I’ve been slow. I know I have. Struggling to catch up emotionally—to want what you want. A family. A future. But I’m there now. I swear I am.”
Heavenly pressed her face against his chest, breathing him in. Beck moved closer, and suddenly they were all wrapped around each other, surrounded by Tristan’s sweet, terrible nursery—three people silently vowing to love and support each other.
At least as long as life allowed.
After a profound silence, Seth pulled back. His eyes were red rimmed but dry, like he’d run out of tears years ago.
“Come on.” His voice low but surprisingly steady. “Let’s finish this.”
They moved through the rest of the house in weighted silence—the bathroom with the yellow duck still sitting on the tub’s edge, the hall closet with its stack of photo albums, the kitchen that hadn’t been used in years.
“What are you going to do with everything?” Her voice came out smaller than she’d intended.
Seth surveyed the place with a too-practiced shrug. “Take a few things. I’ll sell the furniture with the house. The rest…I’ll leave to the new occupants to either donate or toss.”
Because he couldn’t be here anymore, couldn’t endure this again.
“We’ll help,” Beck insisted.
“Whatever you need,” she echoed, her chest aching.
“Thank you.” Seth’s smile was ghost-thin as he disappeared into the basement.
He returned with flattened moving boxes and packing tape. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the house before he let out a ragged sigh. Then they began the grim work of dismantling the remnants of Seth’s old life.
In the awful silence, Seth pulled the framed photos from the walls, his hands shaking slightly as he wrapped them in butcher paper.
From his home office, he gathered documents: the marriage certificate with slightly yellowed edges, Tristan’s birth certificate with tiny blue footprints stamped at the bottom, along with a taped lock of downy baby hair.
Then finally death certificates that made everything horrifically real.
They trekked back to the nursery next, grabbing the teddy bear, the baby blanket from the back of the rocker, and a soft blue onesie that read Baby’s Homecoming that nearly annihilated her newly forced composure.
After that, they filed back to the master bedroom like they were on a death march. Seth plucked Autumn’s wedding ring from the jewelry box on her bathroom counter, then his own band, wrapped in tissue paper, from his dresser.
“I don’t need these anymore,” he said softly, turning the rings between his fingers. “But I can’t throw them away.”
“You shouldn’t,” Heavenly said, her throat tight. “It’s part of your history.”
He merely nodded, as if it took too much energy to say more.
As Seth finished, Heavenly and Beck remained mute, silently supportive shadows following him from room to room in case Seth needed them.
When they finally returned to the living room, Heavenly settled onto the sofa, her eyes aching, her chest hollow. Had Seth felt like this for months? For years?
The guys taped the last of the boxes shut, and the doorbell chimed through the house.
Seth’s shoulders straightened, his jaw setting. “The Realtor.”
Beck and Heavenly stood as Seth led a professional-looking woman in her fifties through the house. Her kind eyes took in the empty walls where photos had hung, the gaps on shelves where keepsakes had been removed.
When their voices faded down the hall, Beck pulled Heavenly into his arms.
“I can barely stand being here,” she whispered brokenly against his chest. “How has he lived with this?”
“I don’t know, but I worry he’s lived with it more than dealt with it.” Beck stroked her back in slow, soothing circles. “It’s like he got his revenge, then mentally locked the past all away and tried to carry on as if the pain didn’t exist. But he can’t heal what he won’t face.”
“I know. I’ve lost people.” Heavenly still mourned her dad, still remembered sharply that day her mother ran out.
She even lamented the loss of her childhood home.
“But never like this. Never everyone at once.” She tilted her head back to look at Beck.
“How did he survive those first days? The first weeks? How did he even want to keep living?”
“I don’t know.” Beck’s eyes were dark with pain. “But we’re going to make damn sure he never has to face anything alone again.”
“I should have been more understanding.” Heavenly’s gut twisted with guilt. “When I pushed him about starting a family—“
“Stop.” Beck pressed a gentle finger against her lips. “I pushed harder than you did. We both fucked up. Now we know. And we’ll do better.”
Footsteps signaled the end of the tour. They drifted back toward the kitchen, where the Realtor handed Seth a handwritten list.
“Just minor repairs,” she was saying in a smooth, practiced tone. “Touch-up paint in the master bedroom, that loose railing on the back deck, the dripping faucet in the hall bath. Nothing major.”
Seth nodded mechanically and skimmed the listing agreement. The pen shook once in his hand before he forced it still and scrawled his signature across the page.
“Excellent.” The Realtor smiled. “I’ll have the sign up by Monday. This is a wonderful neighborhood, and the house is in great condition. I don’t anticipate any trouble finding a buyer.”
“Good.” Seth’s voice was flat. Empty.
After she left, he sagged against the kitchen counter and exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for hours. “Thank fucking god that’s over.”
Heavenly agreed. The house was haunted—but not by ghosts.
It was suffocating under the weight of memories and loss and all the futures that would never be.
She hoped desperately that a new family would buy it.
Young parents with a baby or toddler who would fill these rooms with noise and mess and life.
Who would chase away the shadows and let this place finally rest.
Seth checked his phone. “Uber’s five minutes out. We can head back to the city. Grab dinner. Maybe catch a show.”
“Whatever you’re up for, man,” Beck said.
They returned to the living room and sat close together on the couch, not speaking.
There was nothing left to say. But their bodies said everything—Beck’s hand resting on Heavenly’s knee, her fingers woven through Seth’s, the way they leaned into each other like trees whose roots had tangled together underground.
When the notification pinged, Beck rose and collected the boxes of keepsakes while Seth pulled out his keys one final time.
He stood in the doorway for a long moment, staring back into the house. At his past. At the life he’d built…and lost.
Heavenly slipped to his side and wrapped her arm around his waist. I’m here.
Beck adjusted the boxes and gripped Seth’s shoulder. We both are.
Seth’s jaw clenched. His eyes shone too bright in the fading light.
Moving together, the three of them crossed the threshold.
Seth pulled in a deep breath, drew the door shut, and turned the lock.
For the last time.
As they walked toward the waiting Uber, Seth gripped Heavenly’s hand like a lifeline. Beck fell into step on his other side, holding the boxes of memories in his arms.
None of them looked back.