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“The ball,” I cut in. “The one in that weird little town where everything changed. I remember.”

“No, it’s not like that,” he says quickly. “We met at the ball, sure—but the real story starts with where it was held. Have you ever heard of a little coastal town called Mercer? It’s upstate, near the New York-Connecticut line.”

“What does Mercer have to do with anything?”

“Everything,” he says, nodding slowly. “I got there by accident. Some college buddies and I were being dumb and reckless—road trip kind of thing. We ended up in Mercer without a plan. That’s where I met your mom.”

The name slams into me like a bruise I didn’t know I had. Mercer. Of course it starts there.

“We clicked right away,” he goes on, eyes distant. “A week later, we were in Vermont together.”

I wrap my arms around myself, like I can hold my insides together before they spill out.

“You still haven’t told me why Mercer matters. What happened there?”

His gaze sharpens. “You were born there.”

My breath catches.

“When your mom was about thirty-four weeks pregnant, she told me she wanted to go back to Mercer to have you. I thought it was strange—leaving the city to give birth in some little no-name town? But she said she’d explain. And she did. Later.”

“And?” My voice is barely audible.

“She didn’t want to give birth in New York because the hospitals here would’ve run blood tests. They’d have run blood tests. And those tests would’ve shown things—things no human chart could explain.”

I already know what he’s talking about, but hearing it aloud, from him, stabs something deep.

“She was running. Hiding. She did it all for me,” I whisper, voice cracking. “And you let her die for it.”

“No!” His hands fly up, desperate. “I didn’t know. Stacy, I didn’t know! I didn’t understand what she was. I was young, stupid—I cheated. I won’t deny it, I did—but I didn’t know what it would do to her. I only found out after she left me.”

“You didn’t just screw around,” I hiss. “You shattered her. You broke her heart. She trusted you, and you killed her with that betrayal.”

His face crumples like wet paper. Tears fill his eyes as he drops his head and hunches his shoulders. He shakes his head, staring at the floor. Defeated.

“Look at me.” His voice trembles. “Look at my face, Stacy. Do you think I don’t carry that with me every day? I wake up with it. Sleep with it. It never leaves me.”

I glare at him through the burn in my eyes. “Cry all you want. It won’t bring her back.”

Tears leak from the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t wipe them away, letting them fall, silent and useless. I turn on my heel, heart hammering in my chest. I don’t want to breathe the same air as him. Every second in that apartment feels like being poisoned.

I burst out the door like it’s on fire and tear down the stairs, fleeing the ghosts clawing at my back. My pulse thrums in my ears, the sounds of my boots pounding against the steps like gunshots. I hit the street hard and look up—and he’s there.

Ray.

Still here. Waiting. He said he would be, but seeing him—with his arms crossed, eyes soft but watchful, alert like he’s been listening through the walls. He doesn’t say a word.

I stumble into his arms and collapse, all the tension snapping loose like someone just severed my spine. My whole body gives out, my muscles turning to water. He catches me, one arm around my shoulders, the other at my waist, holding me steady like I’m something worth protecting.

And I break.

A sound bursts out of me—ugly and raw. A sob that rips from the deepest pit of my stomach. I cry hard. Loud. The kind that turns heads. The kind that makes strangers pause, pity in their eyes before they keep walking faster.

But not Ray. He doesn’t move. He squeezes me tighter, his cheek against my hair, silent and strong.

I cling to him, shaking, trying to hold myself together while everything inside me splinters. The image of my mother floods my mind—her soft voice, her warm smile, the way she always looked at me like I was her world. And then, the last look she gave me, the sorrow behind her eyes as if she knew what was coming.

She died because she loved the wrong man. Because she lovedhim.