“This dies with us,” King said, his voice hard. “Right here. Right now. Grace has been through enough. She watched her mother die. She was kidnapped. She was raped. She spent weeks not knowing if the baby she’s carrying belonged to the man she loves or the men who hurt her. And then she learned her mother had been through something similar, and she has a brother out there she never knew.” His hands clenched into fists. “I will not, I willnot, let her find out her mother was a murderer on top of everything else.”
My chest tightened. Every word he said was true. Every goddamn word.
But keeping secrets from Grace felt wrong. Felt like another betrayal.
“She’s stronger than you think,” I said quietly.
“I know how strong she is.” King’s voice softened, but only slightly. “I know exactly how strong she is. That’s why I’m not going to break her with this. She doesn’t need to know, Popeye. It won’t help her. It won’t change anything. It’ll just hurt her.”
I looked down at the journal in my hands. Thought about Grace’s face when she’d learned about Samuel. The way she’d crumbled. The way she’d grieved for a mother she thought she knew.
How much more could she take?
“This isn’t about the truth,” King said, reading my hesitation. “This is about protecting her. And sometimes protecting the people we love means carrying the weight, so they don’t have to.”
Fuck.
He was right. I knew he was right.
But it still felt like lying.
“You sure about this?” I asked.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” King’s eyes met mine, steady and certain. “Grace gets to remember her mother as someone who survived. Someone who protected her. Someone who loved her enough to sacrifice everything. She doesn’t need to know the rest.”
I nodded slowly. “Alright.”
“Alright?”
“Yeah.” I exhaled. “This stays between us.”
King extended his hand. I shook it, feeling the weight of the pact settle between us.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
I didn’t answer. Just nodded and headed for the door.
“Popeye?”
I stopped and looked back.
“Take care of yourself,” King said. “You’re carrying this now too. Don’t let it eat you alive.”
“Yeah.”
I left.
The journal felt heavier in my hand as I walked back to my bike. One more entry. One more truth I’d have to carry alone.
Because King was right. Grace didn’t need to know. She’d been through enough.
But that didn’t make it easier.
I’d spent years searching for the truth about Christina. Years wanting answers. And now that I had them, I couldn’t share them with the one person who deserved them most.
Another secret. Another lie by omission.
But this time, it wasn’t about me. It was about Grace. About protecting her from a truth that would only hurt her.
