Just a small one.
But it’s enough.
“Physically, yes,” Chace answers gently.
I turn my head toward him, my chest tightening as I take in the way he’s watching me, the way his expression has changed, softened into something that makes my stomach drop before he even says another word.
“But mentally…” he continues quietly, “…she’s… she won’t let anyone near her. Won’t let go of Sam.”
A sharp ache slices through me, immediate and deep, but I nod slightly, swallowing hard, trying to steady myself.
She’s alive.
That’s what matters.
That’s what I tell myself.
That’s what I cling to.
“Seraphina…”
My name in his voice is different now.
I feel Trey’s arm tighten around me as Chace steps closer, watching him as he moves slowly, deliberately, until he’s right in front of us, lowering himself down so he’s kneeling in front of me, bringing himself to my level like he doesn’t want to tower over me when he says whatever it is he’s about to say.
“What about my mom?” Chace’s jaw tightens. Trey is studying his expression.
Suddenly—I know.
“No—” I shake my head before he even speaks, the word spilling out of me in a rush of panic and refusal. “No…”
“Seraphina,” he says softly, reaching out and taking my hand in his, his grip warm and steady and unbearably gentle. “I’m so sorry, but your mother…”
I can’t hear it.
I won’t hear it.
I shake my head harder, my breath coming too fast, my chest tightening like it’s caving in on itself.
“No,” I repeat, the word cracking now, breaking apart just like everything else. “No—”
“I’m sorry.” he says, and his voice is so full of something I don’t want, something I can’t accept, something that feels like it’s about to rip me in half. “She didn’t make it.”
Everything inside me goes still, like someone’s reached in and cut every wire, every connection, every piece of me that knows how to feel or breathe or exist in a world where that sentence is real.
My mother.
Gone.
Just like that.
The air leaves my lungs in a broken, silent exhale as I stare at him, at Trey, at nothing, at everything, my mind refusing tocatch up, refusing to understand, refusing to accept something so final, so absolute.
I didn’t know her…not really. So why does this hurt so much?
“No…” I whisper again.
I don’t recognize as my own, my hands clutching at Trey as I fall apart against him, completely undone.
