Chapter 3 #3

His whole body goes rigid. For a moment, the professional mask slips, and I see something raw underneath—a boy who never got to grieve a mother he can’t remember. A man who doesn’t know if he should mourn or hate her.

“You knew her.”

It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “I knew her.”

And she knew things—secrets that died with her. Or should have. But someone’s been digging. The packages. The notes. Someone wants to make sure those secrets stay buried, even if it means burying me too.

“From Roots of Salvation.” He’s cautious, careful with his words and his actions.

I nod. “Do—do you know about that place?” Does he know that his mother was a sadistic, narcissistic bitch with really fucked-up ideologies?

His eyes narrow, and I realize my fingers have turned white where I’m squeezing them together. “Some. Just what my family has told me.” He’s watching me too closely now. “We were both there. As kids. You and me.”

“Yes.”

“Were we…” He stops. Frowns. Then starts again. “We were close? Before?”

How do I answer that?

Do I tell him we were everything to each other? That he saved me a hundred times over? That I’ve loved him since I was six years old and saw him smiling at me?

Do I tell him he promised to meet me? That I’ve been waiting ever since? That he’s the hero in every book I’ve ever written?

“Yes,” I finally say. “We knew each other.”

“Were we friends?”

Friends. Such a small word for something that encompasses my entire world.

“Yes.” I’m detaching. My voice doesn’t sound like my own. “We were friends.”

Something flickers across his face. Relief? Disappointment? I can’t tell.

“When I saw you earlier, something just—” He touches his chest, and I feel it in mine.

The pressure, right over our hearts. His fingers press there, like he’s holding something in—or trying to understand what’s fighting to get out.

“I didn’t know why. But your name, that nickname, it just came out.

Like my body remembered even though my brain didn’t. ”

Tears burn the edges of my eyes. I will not cry. I will not cry.

In. Hold. Out. Hold. In—he needs to stop staring at me—out.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “If we were friends, and I forgot, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t forget me.” The words taste like grief. “I was stolen from you. Exactly how she always planned for it to go.”

He sucks in a gasp of air. The silence it leaves behind is thick and choking.

“Who?” The word rumbles around in his chest—a bowling ball hitting pins.

“T-Terra. Your mother.”

I study him as the truth settles between us. He’s fighting something behind his beautiful blue eyes, in the muscle of his jaw that ticks like a heartbeat.

He lost almost everything, and I’ve blamed him.

All those years of anger. All that wasted grief. And now, I don’t know what to do with any of it, except maybe, finally, let it go.

The guilt crashes into me, suffocating in its weight.

“Clover?” He reaches for my hand but drops his to his side almost as fast. “What’s wrong?”

“Valen.” Roman’s careful gaze cuts between us. “Maybe we should finish this tomorrow. It’s…a lot. For you both.”

He’s right. Absolutely right. Yes. I’m nodding faster than a bobblehead on a rollercoaster.

“I have to…” Jumping to my feet, I ease along the outside of the room, keeping eyes on both men until I reach the doorway. “I need to… I need a minute.”

“Of course. I’ll just…We’ll wait.”

“No.” The word crashes through the space between us. Too sharp, too loud. “I mean, you don’t have to stay. I’m fine. Totally fine.”

His face is the poster child for an eye roll. “You’re not fine.”

“I’m always fine,” I fire back, my words soft but firm.

I am always fine.

“Clover.” Worry lines crease Roman’s face, but they blur through my unshed tears, and I focus on the door locks.

All. Three. Of. Them.

“Please.” I place one foot on my stairs. Safety. Escape. They’re only twelve steps away. “Please, just— I need to be alone.”

Valen wants to argue, I can see it on the tip of his tongue, but whatever’s happening with my face right now must convince him to stay away because he nods.

“We’ll go, but—” He pulls a card from his pocket and places it on my coffee table instead of handing it to me. I appreciate the no contact more than he could know. “This is my cell number. We. I hope that… We should talk, Clover.”

He moves toward the door, closer to me, but pauses as Roman unlocks it and then walks through.

“For what it’s worth,” Valen says without turning around. It’s another small kindness. The emptiness in his eyes hurts me. “I wish I remembered. Whatever we were. Whoever you were to me—I can see that it’s caused you a great deal of pain. I wish I remembered so I could ease that for you.”

The door closes with a soft click, and I’m quick to engage the deadbolts, then sink to the floor, but I don’t count—not this time.

Some things are too big for five seconds. Some things are meant to sweep you away in the swell of grief, and that’s where I allow my mind to go—the overwhelming grief of losing myself a little more with each breath I exhale.

My entire life has been one lie after another, and he’s been the biggest of them all.