A mangled sob crawled up River’s throat as she approached the vehicle.
“Ryker.” Her brother’s name was little more than a mangled whisper, but his head snapped up at the sound.
He shoved his phone into his pocket. “River.”
Ryker strode towards her, his long legs eating up the distance between them. He opened his arms wide in invitation.
River didn’t hesitate.
With a loud cry, she threw herself into her brother’s embrace. He squeezed her tight, hugging her as he had hundreds of times before, and held her close.
“I am so sorry,” Ryker said, his voice cracking. “I came as soon as I got Mom’s call.”
As soon as he heard about their father’s death.
The reminder of their shared loss swirled around River, and here, in her brother’s arms, something else shattered inside her. How was it possible that there were still intact parts of her, waiting to be broken?
“Dad is dead,” she whispered against her brother’s chest. “He’s gone, and I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.”
There were so many things River would have said if she’d known she’d never get to speak to her father again.
She would’ve told him that she loved him.
She would’ve shared how much she appreciated those brief moments of lucidity, where they got to be together.
She would’ve made sure her father knew that every moment they shared would be cherished. That she would never forget him and that he would always be close to her heart.
There were a thousand things she would have said, but she never got the chance. And now, she never would. For the rest of her days, River would have to live with the knowledge that her father didn’t know the person she’d become. His version of her, the person she used to be, was from before.
Before he died.
Before he was stolen from her.
Before she was left struggling to navigate this world without him.
“I know,” Ryker said.
River thought she’d run out of tears earlier, when she’d been crying in Nikhail’s arms, but at her brother’s words, grief crashed into her. It was an enormous wave, and she was a sandy shore, helpless against it.
It didn’t matter that she was a doctor, and she knew death intimately. Grief didn’t have any rules, and River didn’t seem to know how to do anything except break. And so, for the second time that day, she did exactly that.
A wretched sob ripped out of her throat, and she collapsed into her brother’s arms. Tears streaked down her cheeks. Her chest ached. Her heart felt like it would never recover.
The emptiness in her soul burned, yet she was grateful for it, because it meant the manacles were keeping her curse at bay. She could break. She could scream and cry and let her grief free, but her curse was contained, and no one else would get hurt.
Ryker’s arms never wavered. He pressed his cheek against her hair, and it was damp.
He was crying.
River’s tears flowed even faster. She couldn’t remember the last time her brother had cried, nor could she remember the last time he’d broken in front of her. He’d always been a pillar of strength, even after the Incident.
But now, he was crying, and that made things so much worse. Because River wasn’t alone in her loss. She hadn’t just lost her father—Ryker had lost his, as well.
They really were alone.
And while River had been in the Hub, caught in the vast emptiness inside her, Ryker had been dealing with their mother, her grief, and the arrangements.
Oh, gods.