He’s gone.
Valdemar is next to me on the bed, his hand resting on mine.
Pulling my hand from his grasp, I sit up, and so does he.
“Ed was there. He spoke to me,” I tell him, a little breathless by what I’ve just witnessed.
“I know,” he says.
“You saw it?”
He nods, his eyes watering, his face stoic.
“Then you know what he’s asked me to do,” I say.
“I’ve always known, and he’s right. It’s the only way.”
“There must be another way.” My words rush out quickly, quicker than I thought they would. Seven weeks ago, I’d have gladly thrust a knife through his chest to get revenge on the man who killed my brother.
But so much has changed.
Ihave changed.
I’m not who I thought I was. And neither is Valdemar.
Because Valdemar did not kill my brother.
My perspective has shifted. Priorities changed. Life is not about the past or how to contain it. Life is for living—and not living it alone.
Ed wants me to kill Valdemar.
“This was the plan all along. Ed asked you to ask me to kill you. And you did, that night at the party. You asked me to kill you, but then you gave me a choice. Why did you do that?”
“What I said that night was the truth. Before I met you, I would have happily fallen on a blade to end Ed’s suffering, but he told me it had to be you who took my life. He knew what was supposed to happen. But that night in the library, I was selfish. I wanted you. I still want you.”
“And what is it you want now?” I ask.
Valdemar raises his eyebrow as if this wasn’t the question he was expecting. I wonder if anyone has ever asked him what he wants.
“I want you to be happy,” he replies.
“Why?”
“Because that’s all that matters to me now,” he says softly.
I understand this, of course—because I just want Ed to be happy. But that’s because I love him.
My eyes shoot to his as something jolts through my chest, the sharp piercing of a foreign object.
Love.
It all boils down to love.
Ellison Rue’s love for my mother.
My father’s love for Ellison.
My love for Ed.
