Page 215 of Severed Heart

“And you think that’ll work?”

“I think it’s better than what you’re doing. You wanted a solution, and that’s the only one I can think of that might help.” I palm the back of my neck. “And while you’re at it, maybe you could help me. I could use a little extra time at home today, so I have an errand I want to opt out of, which may kill two birds for us both. It will get me back to Delphine, and in helping me, you might be able to draw upon other people’s happiness.”

“Name it,” he says, standing, his posture perking slightly.

“There’s an envelope on the checkout desk full of your blessings. I’ve got about fifteen business owners eagerly waiting for those checks. Why don’t you deliver them today? And while you’re at it, Layla has been telling me about this dress shop called Retro Stitch. You know the one on Main?”

“Yeah, I know where it is.”

“Go there and ask for the shop owner, her name is Tessa. Layla said she’s good people. Maybe you could feel her out and see if she’s a good fit for future bird commerce.”

“Done...” He scours me, and I can feel the shift in him the second his worry for me begins to override his selfish pain because I do know him that well, and I’ve already forgiven him. “What else can I do for you?”

“Cure cancer.” I shake my head ironically. “Stop smoking.”

“Anything but those?” he counters, the harder shell he’s growing accustomed to temporarily discarded as his worry for me kicks in.

“Take care of, and do your best to get back to some semblance of your true self, Sean ... That’s the best thing you can do for us both because I might need to call in that favor soon.” I scrape my lip as he nods in understanding before pulling me to him, his whisper hoarse.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he croaks before releasing me. “Please, brother, please take my apology.”

“Accepted, and we both know it won’t be the last time you lash out at me and vice versa. That’s the way of things, but... Sean, I know some of the reasons it’s hard for you to draw full breaths right now, and you do too.” I hesitate briefly, knowing what reception it’ll bring, but push it anyway. “You won’t even try talking to him?”

“He can call every day for the ink, and I’ll answer for that reason, but I’m done with him otherwise.” He gives me a pointed stare.

“Don’t say it,” I warn, “Sean, don’t—”

“I wish it was him,” he spits. “I do. I wish it would have been him.”

“And now you have tolive with that,” I sigh. “Go.” I pull my truck keys from my pocket, feeling the weight of his stare. Keeping my eyes averted, I refuse to get drawn any further into his dark, bleak headspace while still battling my own. “Get that envelope and go,” I repeat, my anger for his admission evident in my delivery. “I’m here for you no matter what,” I add with the grudge I feel, “but do us all a favor and check your shit before approaching anyone for any more face-to-face today.”

A few stunted heartbeats later, he mutes whatever words he was summoning and disappears into the garage as I make a beeline for my truck. Turning over the engine, I idle for a few seconds to warm it up and scan the garage, not wanting to be here, either. No matter how much pain it brings me to face my newly doled out future, I’d rather face it with her. So, when Sean fires up and pulls out, I file in behind him, eager to get back to the woman who owns the majority of my heart’s real estate, along with the boy who’s quickly stealing some of his own.

As I near the orchard, a trail of leaves spills across my hood and windshield, bringing me back to the memory of a hilltop a year ago. To the day Delphine confessed her love for me—one of the best moments, days of my life. Pressing the gas to hasten my return, I decide to steal our heaven back from all threats. To take the power back from the war looming over us, continually dividing us, and from that doctor’s condemning words. From anything threatening to steal any more of the peace we fought so fucking hard to find. It’s then I realize that though our time is limited, what happiness we created and the memories we made can’t be taken or stolen unless we allow it. As much of a mental fuck as it might be, it’s not only possible to keep what we have but to make more peace, more of those memories in abundance, during what seasons remain.

As I eye the heavily veined, light-yellow leaf now plastered to my windshield, I task myself with a new mission to do just that for as long as I’m capable. Mission sorted, by the time my tires cut into the gravel to meet and return the collective smiles through my windshield, I’m no longer faking anything.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

TYLER

BLINK.

Pulling up the driveway, I revel in the sight of the calming view ahead of me. Of the soft porch light and the lights inside the house beyond the windows. Of the peak of the low-lit fire burning through the glass. Of the plaid blanket folded on the plush couch and the memories it now evokes. Of the trees encompassing the house framing this picture. Of the definition of this vision and place—heaven.

It’s when I cut my engine and step outside, hearing a shatter, that my body tenses. Within seconds, I’m inside the door and at the threshold of the kitchen in time to see Delphine hurl another plate at the floor. The force of her anger has it shattering to nothing but splinters as she plucks another dish from the cabinet. It’s not the mess around her or the glass piling up, but her expression that guts me as I counter my gun.

“Delphine,” I call, but she doesn’t hear me, fury and devastation shifting along her gorgeous features as she continues to destroy our dishes one by one before picking up a marble rolling pin and hoisting it up like a bat. I approach her slowly as she swings at the glass canisters, destroying them with one vicious blow, her outraged cry as she does echoing throughout the kitchen as well as my rapidly hemorrhaging heart.

Softly, I repeat her name again and again until she exhausts herself, chest heaving with silent sobs. It’s been a month since she was sentenced by thethirdopinion we sought out, and I knew a reckoning was coming at some point. I’ve felt the restless struggle within her but decided to let it come naturally rather than force it. I’ve caught many of her lingering looks and returned them with an open-door expression, which she hasn’t taken me up on. She’s kicking that door wide open now, and while I’m ready, I can’t handle the sight of her destroying the one room of the house she loves most. Knowing she’ll regret it if she goes any further, I speak up to stop her.

“Please, baby. Please stop,” I insert between the next shatter, loud enough for her to hear. This plea has her instantly ceasing before she scours the damage. Upon seeing it, she immediately crumbles before me. When I take a cautious step toward her around some of the debris, she holds up a hand to stop me.

“I hate her!”

“Who?”

Her chin wobbles as she shakes her head. “I hate her so much!”