“So, she . . .” I trail off.
“Switched it,” he confirms. “Made it look like Sebastian was mine.” The room feels quieter somehow. “Luke won’t question it,” he adds. “He doesn’t care enough to dig.”
There’s something almost cold in that truth.
“But you do,” I say softly.
His grip on my hand tightens. “Yeah,” he says. “I do.” There’s no hesitation. “I love that kid,” he continues. “Always have. And I’ll raise him like he’s mine, because as far as I’m concerned, he is.”
My throat tightens. “And our baby?” I ask, barely above a whisper.
His eyes flick to mine. “The same,” he says. “No difference. No lines. No favourites.”
I nod slowly, trying to process everything. Then I take a breath. “I got a call that night,” I murmur, my voice barely steady. “Josh’s friend . . . he rang me after the accident.” The memory hits like it always does, like I’m right back there again, but I’ve talked so much these last few weeks about it all that the sting is less. “It wasn’t far,” I continue, staring at nothing. “I ran to him. In the rain. Still in my pyjamas . . . no shoes, nothing.” My throat tightens. “I didn’t even think. I just ran.”
I swallow hard, but it doesn’t ease the ache building in my chest. “I saw them working on him,” I whisper. “Trying to bringhim back.” My fingers twist into the blanket. “But I knew,” I add, my voice cracking. “Before anyone said anything, I knew it was hopeless.” I take another breath. “My mum died while I was at college,” I go on, the words tumbling out now. “I begged my dad to let me stay home that day. I had this feeling, like something bad was going to happen.”
My chest rises sharply as the memory presses in. “He made me go anyway,” I whisper. “And then she was just . . . gone. I never saw her again.” Tears blur my vision now, spilling over before I can stop them. “And then Anika . . .” My voice breaks completely. “It was just too much. Too many goodbyes.” I fold in on myself, the sobs coming harder now, like I’ve been holding them back for too long.
The bed dips beside me and Ray’s arms come around me, pulling me in without hesitation. I tense for a second, hating how familiar this feels, and then I melt against him. Because, god, it feels so good. Everything quiets for a moment, as the noise in my head finally shuts off.
I press into him, my fingers gripping his shirt as I cry. “It’s too hard,” I choke out. “Everyone just . . . leaves.”
His hand moves slowly over my hair, steady, grounding. “I know,” he murmurs. “I know how that feels. Unsafe. Hard. It’s a lot of loss for one person to carry,” he says quietly. “Anyone would break under that.”
I shake my head against his chest. “It feels like it’s me,” I whisper. “Like I’m the problem. Like if I’d just done something differently—”
“Hey,” he cuts in softly, pulling back just enough to look at me. His hand cups the side of my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. “That’s not how this works,” he says firmly. “You didn’t cause any of that.”
I sniff, but the doubt is still there. “I should have been with him,” I say. “I shouldn’t have let him leave that night.”
“You didn’t make him get in that car,” Ray replies. “You staying home from college wouldn’t have prevented your mum. And you didn’t cause what happened to Anika.” His thumb brushes away a tear from my cheek. “That’s not on you,” he adds. “None of it.”
I stare at him, wanting to believe it.Needing to.“It just feels like it is,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says. “Because when everything goes wrong, you look for a reason cos there has to be one, right? And when you can’t find it, you look for someone to blame. And the easiest target is yourself.” His arms tighten around me again, pulling me back against him. “But sometimes,” he murmurs into my hair, “life just deals you a shit hand.”
“I should have checked on her,” I sob.
The guilt claws up my throat, sharp and suffocating. Ray’s grip tightens around me. “It wouldn’t have made a difference,” he says quietly. “Anika wanted to die, Wynter.” I shake my head against him, but he keeps going. “She was unhappy. And I either didn’t see it or I did and didn’t want to admit it.” His voice drops. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.” That makes me pull back slightly, looking at him through blurred vision. “I’m sorry I missed it. That I was too selfish to see how unhappy she was. That I didn’t want to let her go.” His words sound broken, as if it’s the first time he’s said them out loud.
We fall into silence after that. Just my uneven breathing filling the space between us.
After a while, he speaks again, softer this time. “Lucy told me she found you at Josh’s grave.”
My stomach tightens. “I don’t remember,” I lie.
“She said you wanted to be with him.”
I sigh, realising that lying to him isn’t helping. “For a second,” I say quietly. “Just a second.” I swallow hard. “I wasoverwhelmed. It wasn’t something I was going to do. I was just so sad.”
He studies me, like he’s trying to decide if he believes me. Then something shifts in his expression, it hardens as his hands hold on to my shoulders and he fixes me with a stare that tells me things are about to change.
“That can’t happen again,” he says firmly.
“It won’t,” I reply.
His jaw tightens. “Because you’re carrying my child now,” he adds, “and I won’t let anything happen to him or her.”