Beck and Heavenly stood as Seth led a professional-looking woman in her fifties through the house. Her kind eyes took in the empty walls where photos had hung, the gaps on shelves where keepsakes had been removed.
When their voices faded down the hall, Beck pulled Heavenly into his arms.
“I can barely stand being here,” she whispered brokenly against his chest. “How has he lived with this?”
“I don’t know, but I worry he’s lived with it more than dealt with it.” Beck stroked her back in slow, soothing circles. “It’s like he got his revenge, then mentally locked the past all away and tried to carry on as if the pain didn’t exist. But he can’t heal what he won’t face.”
“I know. I’ve lost people.” Heavenly still mourned her dad, still remembered sharply that day her mother ran out. She even lamented the loss of her childhood home. “But never like this. Never everyone at once.” She tilted her head back to look at Beck. “How did he survive those first days? The first weeks? How did he even want to keep living?”
“I don’t know.” Beck’s eyes were dark with pain. “But we’re going to make damn sure he never has to face anything alone again.”
“I should have been more understanding.” Heavenly’s gut twisted with guilt. “When I pushed him about starting a family?—“
“Stop.” Beck pressed a gentle finger against her lips. “I pushed harder than you did. We both fucked up. Now we know. And we’ll do better.”
Footsteps signaled the end of the tour. They drifted back toward the kitchen, where the Realtor handed Seth a handwritten list.
“Just minor repairs,” she was saying in a smooth, practiced tone. “Touch-up paint in the master bedroom, that loose railing on the back deck, the dripping faucet in the hall bath. Nothing major.”
Seth nodded mechanically and skimmed the listing agreement. The pen shook once in his hand before he forced it still and scrawled his signature across the page.
“Excellent.” The Realtor smiled. “I’ll have the sign up by Monday. This is a wonderful neighborhood, and the house is in great condition. I don’t anticipate any trouble finding a buyer.”
“Good.” Seth’s voice was flat. Empty.
After she left, he sagged against the kitchen counter and exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for hours. “Thank fucking god that’s over.”
Heavenly agreed. The house was haunted—but not by ghosts. It was suffocating under the weight of memories and loss and all the futures that would never be. She hoped desperately that a new family would buy it. Young parents with a baby or toddler who would fill these rooms with noise and mess and life. Who would chase away the shadows and let this place finally rest.
Seth checked his phone. “Uber’s five minutes out. We can head back to the city. Grab dinner. Maybe catch a show.”
“Whatever you’re up for, man,” Beck said.
They returned to the living room and sat close together on the couch, not speaking. There was nothing left to say. But their bodies said everything—Beck’s hand resting on Heavenly’s knee, her fingers woven through Seth’s, the way they leaned into each other like trees whose roots had tangled together underground.
When the notification pinged, Beck rose and collected the boxes of keepsakes while Seth pulled out his keys one final time.
He stood in the doorway for a long moment, staring back into the house. At his past. At the life he’d built…and lost.
Heavenly slipped to his side and wrapped her arm around his waist. I’m here.
Beck adjusted the boxes and gripped Seth’s shoulder. We both are.
Seth’s jaw clenched. His eyes shone too bright in the fading light.
Moving together, the three of them crossed the threshold.
Seth pulled in a deep breath, drew the door shut, and turned the lock.
For the last time.
As they walked toward the waiting Uber, Seth gripped Heavenly’s hand like a lifeline. Beck fell into step on his other side, holding the boxes of memories in his arms.
None of them looked back.
Seth dragged a hand down his face and stared out the Uber window, watching the city blur past. The ride back to their Manhattan hotel gave him time to process.
He’d sworn he was braced for touring the house he’d shared with Autumn, where Tristan had spent his few precious months on earth.
