Bay bows her head, then turns back on her side and rolls right back up into a tight ball.
It’s depressing.
I don’t get it.
She didn’twantthe fucking kid. She didn’t want anything to do with it.
She didn’t need me. She’s done with Torin.
We’re over.
And Cairo can fuck around with her all he wants, but it’s still going to end up the same way. The same goes for Oz.
This isn’t going to end well for any of us, period.
Fate had other plans. We weren’t supposed to be together; we must’ve bent something in the process, and now everything that could make us somewhat whole again is ripped away.
I wanted a baby.
Maybe not now, but eventually.
However, who the fuck am I to have a damn kid waltzing around with my fucked-up DNA in it?
I shouldn’t.
Now I’m starting to believe God stepped in and was like,fuck no.
Unable to remain in this room any longer, I roll off Bay’s bed and start for the door with every intention of telling my brothers to give her a bit more space, and she’ll come out eventually.
But that’s until she fucking says, “If it was going to be a girl, I was going to name her Rosie.”
I freeze mid-step.
My heart slams to a halt in my chest at the mention of my twin sister. The complicated yet simplicity of her existence again in this world, in the same shape or form, takes my breath away for a second.
She was going to keep it.
I’m not sure when Bay decided or how, but she just ripped my heart out of my chest again for thesecondfucking time.
The baby is dead.
Matteo De Leon took that from me.
From her.
If I didn’t know what it was before, now the baby has a name.
A memory.
A loss.
A painful reminder I was the cause of my sister’s horrific and hopeless demise.
Rosie.
I don’t reminisce about my sister much because it brings me down to a deep and dark hole of despair and guilt. I should’ve seen the signs. As her twin, I should have been able tofeelthe vulnerability of her thoughts and the dangerous thing she was about to do.
I’ll never forget that day.
