That wasn’t our problem.
Me:Gray is one of my favorite colors.
Anthony:That’s good to know. I wouldn’t worry about the children being used. I’m certain they are spending time with you of their own volition.
Me:You’re right. And the man wouldn’t use his kids like that. I don’t know how I know that, but I do.
Anthony:I’m relieved.
I bit my lip, hesitating, wanting to say more—wantinghimto say more. But I wasn’t ready to let this silly pretense go, and he didn’t seem to be either.
Me:Can you tell me how I get over a broken heart?
Anthony:Who broke your heart, Bea?
Me:Life, I guess. Does it matter? I just want it to befixed.
Anthony:As with most broken things, time and attention works wonders. If you’re careful with it, it might even heal stronger than it was before.
I stared at the screen for a long moment, my heart tugging in that newly familiar, achy way. Wouldn’t that be nice if I could finally move on? I didn’t know what that would look like, but I was ready to try. Because this half-life, ignoring festering pain, wasn’t the way anymore.
Me:Thanks, Ant. I hope that’s true. Good night.
Anthony:Good night, Bea.
I set my phone down and sagged back into the couch, exhausted. My gaze drifted to the package again, and I pulled out the frame. Simple and hammered gold. I slid Lacey’s picture inside, a little monument to this weird, wonderful, unexpected place I’d found myself in. To bumblebees on my Benji-bear’s head and kids who hadn’t let their loss stop them from falling into someone new. To friendship and trying. To change.
I carried it into the kitchen and found the perfect spot to hang it.
I opened the cabinet where I kept my small collection of tools, easily finding what I needed, when the small storage box tucked in the back caught my eye. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about its existence in a long, long time, but I’d never been able to bring myself to throw it out.
I slid it out and sank to the floor with it in my lap, the edges of old memories curling around me as I lifted the lid. Inside were crayon rainbows, hand turkeys, and scribbled stick figures with giant hearts and oversized smiles—art projects Maddie and Davis had made for me back when I was more parent than sister.
I’d kept them hidden, as if that would have protected me from the profound pain of losing my siblings. It hadn’t made it hurt any less. In fact, not being able to keep even a small piece of them had damaged me more than anything.
I pulled two out: Maddie’s rainbow and Davis’s turkey. Something shifted inside me. Seeing them actually made me smile. Climbing to my feet, I hung them on the refrigerator. I didn’t know if I’d keep them there, but I needed to look at them. To remember.
I carefully hammered a nail into my wall and placed Lacey’s portrait right across from them. They looked so out of place in my sleek, modern kitchen, and I loved that. Chaotic. Mismatched. Perfect.
I nodded to myself, turned off the kitchen light, and went to bed. Not healed. Not even close. But I had a feeling I’d rest a little easier tonight.
Chapter Thirty-six
Salvatore
Antarctica.
One of seven continents. The coldest place on earth. No native human life. A polar desert. Aside from screaming wind capable of flaying skin off bone, there was no sound. Inland, there were no animals or vegetation. Nothing grew or rotted, so there was no scent.
Save for auroras and stars, for six months of the year, the world turned completely black. Time lost meaning. Days blended into numb monotony.
I’d been in Antarctica for a week. It might as well have been years.
My kids, father, and work kept me tethered. The lone satellite capable of beaming signals down to me.
It was strange feeling so desolate. This was the life I’d been living for years, and I’d been content.
That was before.
