Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 182255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 911(@200wpm)___ 729(@250wpm)___ 608(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 911(@200wpm)___ 729(@250wpm)___ 608(@300wpm)
Seth stood in the doorway, shoulders rigid, breathing too controlled. He stared at the bed like it was a monster that might roar to life and swallow him whole.
She found Beck’s hand and gripped it tightly, fighting back fresh tears.
“Seth?” she finally whispered, aching to offer her love and support.
He didn’t reply, didn’t move. His carefully blank expression said he was trying desperately not to feel, as if giving into the past he’d never fully grieved would destroy him.
Woodenly, he turned the corner and made his way down another hall.
On the left, they encountered a guest room that held a daybed, a few stacked boxes, and not much else. Dust motes floated in afternoon light.
After a grunt, Seth turned away and led them deeper into the house. He stopped before a door on the right and wrapped his hand around the knob, dragging in a shuddering breath. Then he opened the door.
Tristan’s nursery.
The room was perfectly preserved, another horrific snapshot of life interrupted. A shape sorter sat neatly on a shelf with pristine board books, which had obviously seen little use in Tristan’s tragically short life. A plush elephant slumped against the wall. A padded rocking chair sat forgotten by the window, and Heavenly could picture Seth here, cradling the son he’d never hold again.
And in the center of it all, the empty crib. Cold, almost barren, except for the mobile of felt stars and moons suspended motionless above the mattress, as if waiting to soothe a baby who would never sleep there again.
The sight was a punch to Heavenly’s chest. Her knees threatened to buckle again. A sob stuck in her throat as her vision swam.
Beside her, Beck swallowed hard and gripped the doorframe for support. “Jesus, Seth. How did you survive this?”
Seth didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure he could. Instead, his throat bobbed once—hard—as if he’d swallowed a scream while he stood frozen in the doorway. His face was a mask of anguish as he stared at the crib like he was watching his son die all over again.
Heavenly’s heart threatened to shatter as she bent and picked up a criminally pristine teddy bear. Tristan had never teethed on it, never roughhoused with it. He’d barely had time to cuddle with it.
She squeezed the plushy toy, its cheerful smile shattering something inside her.
Heavenly couldn’t hold back anymore. She sobbed. Ugly, gasping tears that tore from somewhere deep in her chest. For Seth, who’d lost everything. For Autumn, who’d perished with her baby. For Tristan, who’d never truly known life.
For the horrific tragedy of it all.
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.