Chapter 20
TWENTY
Zayne
One month later
If someone had ever told me that losing someone could hurt this much, I would have laughed in their face. I would have called them delusional. Pain like this sounded exaggerated until it lived inside my ribs, until it pressed against my lungs and made breathing feel optional.
I never understood why people begged for closure. It always sounded like an excuse, a word people used to feel better about unfinished endings. Now I know. Now I felt the pain of needing it.
The case of Ozark Butcher was closed.
The case of Zayne Mercer was closed, too.
The media helped with that.
Pressure built. Cameras flashed. Questions piled up until the police sealed the files to make it stop.
No one asked how Zayne Mercer had really died. The official story was neat and straightforward. He had chased his doctor onto a construction site until they both fell, and the impact killed them on the spot.
A tragic accident that brought closure to everyone but me.
No one asked about Zeke. No one even knew he existed.
So I took his place.
It turned out Emily’s best friend, Mia, was a journalist. She wanted the truth about Eureka Springs, all of it, and she made sure the files she found at Emily’s place didn’t stay hidden. She leaked everything. And when names came to light, the whole government scrambled and fell.
Project Gemini became impossible to bury. Cloning was no longer a rumor or a conspiracy. It was the truth that came out.
Inmates labeled criminally insane, people who had disappeared from records, turned up dead overnight. Too many bodies raised too many questions, and those questions led the Halden Institute to shut down.
Its doors locked for good. Soon, construction crews moved in, tearing it apart piece by piece, replacing it with plans for a hotel.
Locals already whispered about ghosts from 1998, about spirits that haunted the land and refused to leave, but no one truly believed.
Funny how silence worked. How fear kept mouths closed until one voice dared to speak. It always took just one.
If anyone asked how I ended up on the other side of all this, watching the world react instead of chasing it, I could have told them a story about the future. I could have pretended I lived long enough to see what came next.
But that would have been a lie.
I had only three years left to live.
As usual, I watched from behind, standing apart from the small ceremony meant only for those who had truly known her.
There were not many people here. Her aunt was there, grief spilling out of her in broken sobs. She looked down with regret on her face.
Even though her death had been ruled an accident, they didn’t allow her body to leave the morgue for a month. Paperwork dragged, and procedures stalled. Time moved forward without her. By the time the funeral finally came, 2016 had already turned into 2017.
I stood there and watched, fingers curled tightly around the stems of daisies and red roses. I waited for everyone to leave so I could place them myself on her tombstone.
It felt cruel that I didn’t know her favorite flower until after she was gone.
Ten years of knowing her, of seeing her pass by me, and only now did I regret not saying hello.
I regretted not kissing her sooner, not hugging her sooner.
I regretted every moment I wasted believing there would always be another chance.
I kept waiting until I finally understood that time was not something I had.
They were right. It was a tale as old as time. You never know what you have until it’s gone forever from your hands.
I know that now.
But it was too late.
A single tear slipped down my cheek, hidden beneath the black sunglasses resting against my nose. I was still staring ahead when I noticed Mia catch sight of me. She hesitated, then walked closer.
“Hey, asshole,” she said when she stopped in front of me.
“Hey,” I answered, my jaw tightening.
“You got your wish,” she said, eyes narrowing slightly and moving to her stomach.
“Yeah,” I said, watching as they lowered her into the ground.
Mia turned back toward the grave, standing beside me. “I had no tears left,” she said quietly. “I cried day and night for thirty days. Today, there was nothing left.”
I stayed silent.
“Did you know she once told me that if she died first, I should bring ballet shoes so she could be someone different on the other side?” Her voice shook as she reached into her pocket and pulled them out, pink ballet shoes. “I never told her she would have been a great dancer.”
“I didn’t know,” I finally said, my chest tightening. “I didn’t even know her favorite flower until you told me. I never got the chance to find out what her favorite color was.”
“Blue,” Mia whispered. “She always said pink because she was a natural blonde and thought it suited her best. But secretly, she loved blue.”
I smiled.
“What did she love to do?” I asked as I sat down on the wet grass in my black suit.
Mia stopped. For a moment, she said nothing. Then I heard a quiet sniff. “Playing with Daisy.”
“They are together,” I said. “I heard all dogs went to heaven. I am sure she’s there too. With her.”
“Do you really believe that?” she asked.
“I do,” I said. “I never believed in anything until I met her.”
“She was religious,” Mia said. “Before she got here, she prayed for your soul. She didn’t even know you.”
I raised a brow and clicked my tongue. “Too late for that.”
“Zayne,” she whispered. She placed her palm over her stomach. “If this works, promise me you’d stay away.”
A quiet chuckle escaped me. “I couldn’t keep promises, Mia. But this one wasn’t even in my hands to promise.”
She nodded and stood.
I picked up the flowers from the ground and held them out to her. “It took me a month just to leave the house,” I said. “I can’t say goodbye to her yet.”
She took them. And without a word, step by step, she walked toward Emily’s grave. I watched as she knelt and placed the flowers down. She looked back at me and said something I couldn’t hear, probably that I was an asshole, probably something I deserved.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and stood. I turned my back and walked away.
Some goodbyes were hard because we were not ready to say them. Some were easier because we knew the person was meant to leave. But I couldn’t let go of her. I couldn’t let go of the feeling that she was still here, that she would show up at the doorstep, that everything would be okay.
I couldn’t dream without her living inside it.
It was hard to say goodbye when you had to, but didn’t want to.
So I walked away. It was easier to live with hope than to face the truth. And she was the most brutal truth I had to face.
I made my choice.
I swallowed the words I never said.
A year later
January brings snow, covering the Ozark woods in a pale white sheet. People forget. Tragedy fades here, buried under weather and routine.
But I didn’t forget.
Regret lives with me every day.
I walk slowly through the cemetery. Snow crunches softly beneath my boots. It’s the only thing I hear, except for the tiny breaths she takes against my chest.
I think we are the only ones still alive among the dead.
If I remember correctly, her grave is near the small church on the right side of the grounds. The path feels longer than it should, but eventually I find it.
Emily Beckett.
The name is carved into cold stone.
I lower her gently to the ground. Her small hands reach out, touching the surface of the stone. She smiles, curious, dragging her palm along the letters until the cold bites her skin. She pulls her hand back and lifts it into the air, showing me how it stings.
I smile.
“Emma,” I whisper. “Does it hurt?”
I kiss her tiny fingers.
She nods.
I lift her back into my arms. She settles against my chest, and a tear slips down my cheek.
“I came to say goodbye,” I say at last. “I wanted you to meet Emma.” A quiet laugh breaks through. “I wanted to tell you I failed to be the man you deserved. But I wanted to promise I’ll be the dad she deserves.”
I rehearsed these words all night, repeating them in my head until they felt real. But standing here, staring at her name, every sentence drains away.
“I don’t remember what I wanted to say,” I murmured with a sigh.
I take a breath.
Emma slaps my cheeks gently. Her small fingers are cold, and a daisy is clenched between them.
“I guess I wanted to say you were right,” I said softly. “Even monsters like me deserve a second chance. Not to live a better life, but to fix the mistakes I’ve made.”
I lean down and kiss Emma’s forehead.
“She taught me what love means,” I say quietly. I smile, but it hurts. “She taught me that I was loving you too.” My voice shakes. “And I forgive you. Not because you did something wrong, just so you can move on.”
The words catch in my throat. I swallow hard.
“And I am sorry,” I whisper. “If I had a time machine, I would change everything. But knowing you, you are the only person who ever made me believe time was valuable.” My eyes burn. “And now, seeing Emma, seeing how fast she’s growing, I know time is something we don’t have.”
I look at her again. At her blonde hair. At her jade green eyes.
“She’s ours,” I say.
The words choke me.
“Alistair failed,” I continue. “But we didn’t. There was truth in those tapes he left behind. A little hope, too.” My chest tightens. “And I know that when Emma grows up, she will be the version of us we never got to be.”
Emma starts to cry.
“Shhh,” I whisper, pulling her close. “I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.” A broken laugh slips out of me. “See you soon, Freckles. My time will come. And even if I won’t be in the same place as you, I know somehow our souls will find their way back to each other.”
I turn around.
Emma drops the daisy onto the frozen ground.
There is nothing left here now.
Only dust.
Souls stay around. They wait for the right person to come along. And even when we don’t get to stay with the people we want, things still fall into place in their own cruel way. It isn’t always the ending we hope for, but it is always a piece of the puzzle that fits somewhere larger.
Emily and I were pieces, too. Sharp ones. Pieces that never fit cleanly. A project meant to end. A file meant to gather dust.
But we were also given a lesson.
Just because something feels good for the heart doesn’t mean it’s good for the mind.
In the end, we are all a little crazy—some more than others. And while time keeps moving, we wait for the things we want, while the things we need quietly slip away.
Wake the fuck up!