She squeezed the plushy toy, its cheerful smile shattering something inside her.
Heavenly couldn’t hold back anymore. She sobbed. Ugly, gasping tears that tore from somewhere deep in her chest. For Seth, who’d lost everything. For Autumn, who’d perished with her baby. For Tristan, who’d never truly known life.
For the horrific tragedy of it all.
Strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Even surrounded by all the visceral reminders of his loss, Seth pulled her back against his solid chest and held her tight. He buried his face in her hair and comforted her, even though he must be bleeding inside.
He finally faced Beck, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked. “I had a lot of dark days. Hell, years. The holidays are still hard. And I’m really not…good on Christmas Eve. I lost everything that day. But now…look what I’ve gained.”
His words made her cry harder. Because yes, he had them now. But that didn’t erase the pain. Nothing would.
“God, I’m sorry. So…fucking sorry.” Beck sounded closer, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been riding you. Pushing you to get over it, move on, start a family. Like it was something simple. Like grief was a switch you could just flip and—” His voice broke. “I didn’t get it. Not really. Until now.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” Seth turned her in his arms, then wiped away her tears with a gentle swipe and a shuddering breath. “You’ve been patient, and I’ve been slow. I know I have. Struggling to catch up emotionally—to want what you want. A family. A future. But I’m there now. I swear I am.”
Heavenly pressed her face against his chest, breathing him in. Beck moved closer, and suddenly they were all wrapped around each other, surrounded by Tristan’s sweet, terrible nursery—three people silently vowing to love and support each other.
At least as long as life allowed.
After a profound silence, Seth pulled back. His eyes were red rimmed but dry, like he’d run out of tears years ago.
“Come on.” His voice low but surprisingly steady. “Let’s finish this.”
They moved through the rest of the house in weighted silence—the bathroom with the yellow duck still sitting on the tub’s edge, the hall closet with its stack of photo albums, the kitchen that hadn’t been used in years.
“What are you going to do with everything?” Her voice came out smaller than she’d intended.
Seth surveyed the place with a too-practiced shrug. “Take a few things. I’ll sell the furniture with the house. The rest…I’ll leave to the new occupants to either donate or toss.”
Because he couldn’t be here anymore, couldn’t endure this again.
“We’ll help,” Beck insisted.
“Whatever you need,” she echoed, her chest aching.
“Thank you.” Seth’s smile was ghost-thin as he disappeared into the basement.
He returned with flattened moving boxes and packing tape. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the house before he let out a ragged sigh. Then they began the grim work of dismantling the remnants of Seth’s old life.
In the awful silence, Seth pulled the framed photos from the walls, his hands shaking slightly as he wrapped them in butcher paper. From his home office, he gathered documents: the marriage certificate with slightly yellowed edges, Tristan’s birth certificate with tiny blue footprints stamped at the bottom, along with a taped lock of downy baby hair. Then finally death certificates that made everything horrifically real.
They trekked back to the nursery next, grabbing the teddy bear, the baby blanket from the back of the rocker, and a soft blue onesie that read Baby’s Homecoming that nearly annihilated her newly forced composure.
After that, they filed back to the master bedroom like they were on a death march. Seth plucked Autumn’s wedding ring from the jewelry box on her bathroom counter, then his own band, wrapped in tissue paper, from his dresser.
“I don’t need these anymore,” he said softly, turning the rings between his fingers. “But I can’t throw them away.”
“You shouldn’t,” Heavenly said, her throat tight. “It’s part of your history.”
He merely nodded, as if it took too much energy to say more.
As Seth finished, Heavenly and Beck remained mute, silently supportive shadows following him from room to room in case Seth needed them.
When they finally returned to the living room, Heavenly settled onto the sofa, her eyes aching, her chest hollow. Had Seth felt like this for months? For years?
The guys taped the last of the boxes shut, and the doorbell chimed through the house.
Seth’s shoulders straightened, his jaw setting. “The Realtor.”
