“I know that, honey. Now be a sweetheart and go shower. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” She gives me one last smile and heads out, pulling the door shut behind her.
It takes every ounce of willpower I have to get out of bed. A wave of dizziness hits the moment I’m on my feet, the room tilting around me, and sitting straight back down, I squeeze my eyes shut until it passes. Then I try again, slower this time.
Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, the screen is a wall of missed calls from Mom, Dad, Annie, and my boss. I know they’re all worried, but I can’t talk about Ryan yet. My boss has been understanding, giving me the time I asked for without question, but with rent due and bills piling up, I know I need to get back to work soon. As much as it pains me, I need the money.
Freshly showered, I step out of the bedroom and find Mom in the kitchen with toast and coffee waiting. My stomach gives a hollow churn—I genuinely can’t remember the last time I ate.
“Sweetheart, have some coffee and toast, and then we’ll get some fresh air.”
Sliding onto the stool, I take a bite. As soon as it’s down, I take another and another, washing it all back with coffee. While I eat, Mom moves around the kitchen, throwing out old rubbish, wiping surfaces, and tidying without being asked. I tell her she doesn’t need to, but she waves me off and keeps going.
She opens the windows, and I notice for the first time how beautiful it is outside. I haven’t taken in my surroundings since I got back. Everything has just been a blur. I still can’t fully comprehend that he’s gone.
Tate and the Blood Brothers have been amazing, but my heart doesn’t want to be here in Vixen Falls. It wants to be in NewYork, where Ryan was last, where he took his final breath. I know how little sense that makes, but grief doesn’t follow logic. And honestly, I miss the girls. Jasmine, Luisa, and Tess all made me feel like family from day one. Annie is here, but she travels constantly for the military. My parents are retired, but they’re busy, always off somewhere.
Aside from work, what’s really keeping me here?
The thought arrives quietly and stays there.Could I go back? Should I?
“What are you thinking about, darling girl?”
Mom’s voice pulls me out of my head, and I blink back to the kitchen.
“Oh, nothing,” I say, finishing the last of my coffee. “So where are we off to?”
“The salon. I’m due to get my grays done, and you could use a little freshening up. I called Ginger’s while you were in the shower… they have time for both of us.”
She gives me that wide, infectious smile, and she’s right. My blonde needs refreshing, and it definitely needs a trim.
“Okay, Mom. Let’s do it.”
With fresh highlights and a trim, I have to admit I will feel a little more like myself.
Mario, my hairstylist for ten years, hugs me the moment I walk through the door. He’s always been a magician with blonde, and he’s hardly ever available on short notice, so the fact that Mom got us both in is pure luck.
The hardest part is when he asks how Ryan and I are doing.
Mario knows everything about my life, but that’s just the nature of a decade in his chair. But when tears pool in my eyes, he stops and sits beside me. I tell him I don’t want to talk about it, and when I see the worry in his expression, I give him the short version—Ryan is gone, it had been a shock, and I’m still finding my footing.
He starts asking questions I can’t answer, because honestly, I don’t have all the details myself. Tate explained what he could, but he held back, not wanting to cause me more pain. What I know is that Ryan died trying to save his brother. And even if I’d tried to stop him, he wouldn’t have listened. You don’t talk a man out of saving his own flesh and blood.
Was I angry that Tate survived and Ryan didn’t? If I’m being honest, yes. A part of me was. I’m not proud of it, but grief isn’t pretty.
When Mario sees the pain the questions are causing, he’s immediately on his feet. “Honey, this is clearly not the time. I’m so sorry for bringing it up. Just know I’m here whenever you need me.”
That’s the thing about Mario. He knows me well enough to know when to stop. He isn’t just my hairdresser, he’s my friend.
He trims my hair and blow-dries it exactly the way I like it. Mom has her grays colored and her hair blown out, and she looks stunning walking out of there, not a day over forty.
Mom has organized manicures followed by lunch, and we settle into a quiet corner table with the afternoon stretching out around us.
“Mom, thank you for today.”
She reaches across and places my hand in hers, her eyes finding mine. “Sophia, what you’ve gone through is something no one should ever have to face. You’ve lost someone you truly love, and I can’t take that pain away, but I’ll try as much as I can. Your father and I are both worried about you.”
“I know, Mom. It’s just…”
She taps my hand gently.