Page 114 of Final Proposal

With that, Ellery Sinclair walks around me and out of the inn.

And with what I fear is out of my life.

Ellery

The tears don’t stop.

Neither does the ache in my chest or the pain in my heart.

I love him.

I love Fordham Sharpe when I swore I’d never allow myself to love him.

And I almost lost him.

The dreams never stopped coming. The panicked gasp when I woke to find him there, alive, his chest rising and falling, only scared me more.

Everything I love dies.

Everything.

I can’t curse Ford with that. I can’t curse his brothers with that.

I wipe another tear away and then trace the engraved letters on my father’s headstone.

His face flashes through my mind. His big laugh and warm hugs. His strict discipline but effusive praise that made you feel like you were on top of the world when he gave it. His unwavering support and distinct advice that I still hold close even today.

Mom’s shoulders shudder as I try and hold on to them. As I try to comfort her like she has me.

But no hug is going to help this hurt.

No kiss on the boo-boo is going to make this go away.

I squeeze my eyes shut. It’s easier than looking around and seeing everyone pretend they’re not looking at us. Their eyes full of pity. The it’s such a shame murmured to one another. And my eyes being closed is ten times better than looking at the shiny black casket above the ground in front of us.

Is he cold in there?

Is he still in pain?

Is he wishing he hadn’t done it because he sees how much we’re hurting? How much we miss him?

Mom tries to pull away from me. To reverse the roles back to where they should be with her as the parent and me as the child. And one look at her face—eyes sad, face swollen, nose red—tells me what I already know: nothing will ever be the same again.

She slides me over and onto her lap. Her chest heaves against my back and the sound—the mewling sound she’s fighting back—I hope I never hear again. I put my hands over my ears and try to make it stop. To try and pretend this isn’t happening.

It’s the sound of devastation.

Of my life changing.

Of a little girl irrevocably changed.

Why did you do this, Dad?

It hurts to breathe.

You broke us.

My head dizzies.