I nod in confirmation.
“Did you—” She chokes slightly and draws in a slow breath, two more tears trickling down her cheeks. “Did you ever love me? You said you loved me.”
My heart feels like it’s been stabbed by how she looks at me. “Yes,” I tell her honestly. “Just not the way you needed me to. Not the way we needed for our relationship to survive. Not the way necessary for us to be married. I’m always going to love you that way, always to be there if you need me. Just not the way I love Gracie.”
Kate snivels and nods before wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve. This place has really torn her down. She’s so tired-looking and doesn’t even seem to care about her hygiene. Normally, she’d look for a tissue or something before even considering wiping the snot on the back of her sleeve. My heart hurts for her. I don’t want her to become something she isn’t because of this place. But I don’t think she will, not really. I just have to ensure she’s taken care of the best way I can.
“Can you tell her I’m sorry, please?” she begs, her eyes wide.
That’s when it clicks and makes sense. It isn’t even the place warping her. It’s the guilt that’s twisting her and clawing at her insides. She’s breaking apart over what she did. I reach up with my free hand and press my fingers against the glass, feeling the smooth glass as my palm does the same. Kate does the same, and I take in the chewed-up nails. Nails, which she has always taken pride in. She went to the salon every single month. After a long moment, I take my hand back and drop it on my lap.
“The thing about Gracie is that she’s always been, and still is, a very forgiving person. She isn’t going to be mad at you. Donna and the other chick are a whole different story, though.”
Kate shakes her head and gives a thin smile. “Adrianna did it because she was bored. She helped even before she knew Gracie. She’s the one we got the drugs from. She was my brother’s girlfriend, and I knew they did drugs together in the past. I knew she could get them if we asked. I told Donna, and so we did. She got them. She was infuriated when she met Gracie and saw how much Luke and Jasper liked her.” Kate laughs bitterly. “Funny thing is, she was cheating on them with her agent the whole time. She was cheating on her agent with her lawyer, though. The girl loves to open her legs because she’s a model.” She rolls her eyes and sighs heavily. “Poor Gracie. I know how hard she’s been trying with her sobriety, and we really fucked that up.”
I give her a wan smile. “She’s still going to therapy and AA, so that’s a good thing. She was really upset, though. Wouldn’t really talk to me or any of the guys for an entire day.”
Kate nods and bites her lip, thinking something over before speaking again. “She’s doing good. She’s trying hard, you know.”
This time, I lick my lips. “I know she is, and I’m really proud of her.” My eyes flicker to Kate’s stomach again. “What do you want?”
Her cheeks flush bright red as she glances down at her stomach for a split second before back up at me. “I want a girl.”
I grin. “Me too.”
“If it is”—she hesitates, chewing her lip momentarily—“can we name her Olivia? After my grandmother?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I know how close Kate and her grandmother were before she passed last year. I want to name my daughter after my mother, but maybe if Gracie ever gets pregnant with a girl for me, I can convince her to do it. Gracie will be more understanding. She was there before and after my mother passed, so she’ll get it much better than Kate, especially since I’ve never really talked to Kate about my mother.
“Sure,” I finally agree when I realize Kate is looking at me anxiously. Relief washes over her face. “Olivia is fine.”
Kate smiles at me, and then it drops almost instantly as a guard comes up behind her, warning her of two minutes before she has to go. “I’m going to miss the first full year,” she cracks out, the tears streaming freely now. “I might be in here for up to eighteen months, Devon.”
“We’ll get it figured out,” I promise her just as the guard reappears, irritated, and demands Kate get off the phone.
She doesn’t fight him and hangs up almost instantly, deciding it’s better not to do so. She waves to me, staggering when she’s grabbed roughly and shoved towards the back door. Before she disappears through it, Kate looks over her shoulder, looking at me sadly. I know it isn’t because she’s leaving me that she looks that way. I know it’s because she will most likely miss the entire first year of our child’s life. My heart flips at the realization as I get up to leave as well, allowing somebody else to take my seat and do their visit.
Chapter57
Gracie
The little girl sits in the dim hall with her back turned to me. But I know, I’m not sure how but I know, when she looks at me, she will have my eyes. She will have them and my hair, but she will have her father’s laugh. She’s going to be mindful like her father, and the smile that crosses her face will light up the room. Hallway. Building. Everything and anything. I know better than to say that a kid is a lifesaver, that it's putting a lot of pressure on them for merely existing. But I know, a burning ache inside me, that she is the reason I keep breathing.
I step forward, reaching out with full intent to touch her. I want her to turn around, smile, and laugh so I can hear it. I want to hold her, to be her mother. The lights flicker, dimming just a shade more, casting eerie shadows over us. They wrap around us like long-lost friends, but their hugs aren’t warm. Goosebumps race up and down my arms.
I get to the girl, who I just know is my daughter. As I touch her shoulder, my fingers brushing through her hair, she jerks around. Her face snaps up to me, and I scream, staggering back. It's blank. There is nothing there. A smooth surface, like a doll, just being carved into existence.
A click sounds in my ears, and I turn, coming face to face with a muzzle. A little girl's giggle echoes in my ears before she sings the Ring Around the Rosie lullaby. It’s a hollow sound in my ears. I want to run, to get away, but I can’t move. My heart picks up speed; my hands tremble violently.
The muzzle stays right in front of my face, ready to take me down. A door to my left creaks opens, and I take a moment to look, to find the source. Darkness beckons from the wide-open mouth of the room to my side. I turn back to the muzzle, expecting its owner to squeeze the trigger, but it’s gone. For now, anyway.
The little girl giggles again. It swarms in my mind and draws me forward into the room. As I move over the threshold, my footsteps are sluggish, and I allow the gaping black to swallow me whole. My body jolts, and I crash to the ground, palms slapping against the linoleum. Looking up, I see the room full of children. All have their backs turned to me. Some with short hair, some with long hair. All various ages. Even babies that are sitting upright. But all with their backs to me. I scramble to my feet and approach the closest one. It’s a boy. I can tell by his very short hair and the shorts and muscle shirt he wears.
I want to know who he is. I must know who he is. Desperation claws inside me, urging me to reach out and tap his head. At my touch, he turns to face me. Just like the first little girl, his face is a blank slate. The scream leaves my lips, and I stagger back in surprise. I don’t know why, but I know I must see the others. So even though I think the little boy is staring at me, I turn to a little girl. She has shoulder-length hair but is wearing a frilly pink princess dress with a yellow crown on her head. When I brush my fingers on her shoulder, and she turns to me, I fall back again.
Again and again. Child after child, they all have blank faces. No eyes, no nose, no mouths. They have absolutely nothing, and yet, all are staring at me. The more I touch, the more the others turn to face me. The light flickers above us and drops us into even more darkness. I can feel the tendrils of ice trickling down my spine. My chest tightens, feeling like it's burning. I can’t breathe.
A click resounds in my ears, and I turn. The muzzle isn’t pointed at me this time, though. It's pointed at one of the children. The fingers holding the gun are ready to squeeze. My heart leaps into my throat, and I move forward, desperate to stop it. Even if it turns on me, at least it won’t be the child. Or any of the children.