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I want to reply so many times, want to pick up her call to hear her voice, want to go to her apartment and pull her into my arms.

And then what?

Sorry, darling, we can’t be together because my father had an affair with your mother and we are half-siblings?

The world is one perverted joke and we are the punchline.

Tears blur my vision again as I laugh into the ruckus of the night, my shoulders trembling from gallows humor or from pain. I can’t tell the difference anymore.

More footsteps pound nearby, and several fresh voices join the fray.

“Shit. He’s been like this since you found him?” Rex sounds concerned, his jovial, teasing tones nowhere on display. “Look at him. He’s a fucking mess. Hair all crazy, haven’t shaved, cufflinks missing, shirt hanging out of his pants. What the fuck.”

“Oh Steven, tell us what’s going on.” A whiff of feminine floral perfume hits my nostrils and the pain slices me once again. The scent is not jasmine, not my favorite smell in the world. The warmth next to me is not her. I don’t need to look up to know.

Lana wraps her arms around my shoulders, her hand making smoothing motions on my back, but I barely notice.

“Come on, man. You’re almost like a brother to us. You’re an honorary Anderson. There’s nothing you can’t share with family. Tell us so we can help you,” Ethan’s quiet voice speaks from in front of me.

Slowly, I lift my head up, a pounding headache cleaving me in half. I get all the pain from the alcohol, but none of the benefits. No blackouts, no drunkenness, no forgetfulness.

Only the pain.

So much pain.

Ryland squats in front of me and places his hand on my shoulders, his slate eyes piercing. He squeezes. Maxwell sits silently next to me—he’s a man of few words, but I can feel his support radiating from his body heat.

Charles paces, his lips thinning as he rakes his hand through his hair.

Ethan and Rex stare at me from their standing positions a few feet away, blocking my vision of the road where the cars are flying by, speeding along the streets in an underground race for the rich and elite that The Orchid hosts once a quarter.

Lana sighs and wraps me around my shoulders to the best of her ability. “You can tell us. We won’t judge. We’re your family.”

I heave out a breath and tilt my head up toward the heavens.

The skies are a dark abyss—a stark, starless sky.

The gods don’t want to peer down between the frissons of worlds to see us.

I want to stand up, scream on top of my lungs, and yell, “Look what you made happen. What sick, twisted minds you have to do this to us!”

“Grace and I are siblings,” I whisper, but the five words pierce the intimate circle of the group. It might as well be the sound of a gunshot.

Maxwell sucks in a deep breath.

“What the fuck,” Ryland mutters.

“What!” Rex exclaims, disbelief lacing his voice, as Lana, Ethan, and Charles echo the same sentiments.

My eyes glaze over as I recite the events to them, my voice monotonous, for the emotions have already rendered me into a ghost of my former self.

I tell them about my memory of the rainy night, how Grace and I fell in love, how I finally found peace in my soul, and how Mother tore it apart when she revealed to me the truth of the past.

The group was quiet, the silence heavy when I finished telling them everything that transpired. A cheer sounds from far away, spectators no doubt enjoying the race of flashy cars and rich people with nothing better to do than to tempt death.

I grab the whiskey from Maxwell again, and this time, he hands it over freely. Taking a large swig, I flinch at the renewed pounding in my head.

“What are you going to do?” Ryland asks from in front of me. He gently takes the bottle from my hand .

I shake my head. “What can I do? I’ll have to let her go.

But I won’t tell her why. It’ll kill her.

I’d rather be one of the rich assholes she’s used to in the past. I’ll disappear from her life.

The past year has been nothing but a beautiful dream.

And like every dream, we have to eventually wake up. ”

The words tear inside my chest, sinking their talons into the muscle and digging, but I barely feel the pain anymore.

Even in my drunken stupor, it doesn’t feel right. I know she deserves the truth from me, but in this one selfish moment, I’m too obliterated from everything to think clearly.

Because everything inside me is scything agony. I can’t even take a breath without feeling like I’ll keel over from the heartbreak.

I guess I’ve now experienced the crippling blow of heartbreak cutting out my knees from under me.

I chuckle mirthlessly, thinking back to the thoughts I had a year ago when I was still an unemotional block of ice, saying farewell to Liesel in the Rose suite, not knowing my life was about to turn upside down.

My mind is filled with Grace. A rotating slideshow of soft smiles, brilliant eyes, of random factoids of the world, to her alluring smell of jasmine, her warmth, her touch, her intoxicating love.

She’s the other half of my soul and now I’m dealing with it being torn away, fates ripping it apart seam by seam, tossing everything into the flames of hell.

If I get to do it all again, I’d stay away from her.

Anything to prevent this pain and agony, which I know will devastate her.

It’ll hurt her and that’s the one thing I can’t bear.

Regret, my most hated emotion, cloaks over me like a plastic bag on my face, slowly suffocating me as the oxygen runs out.

“Don’t you think you owe it to her to tell her the truth?” Ryland murmurs, his fingers fiddling with a pebble from the ground. “She deserves to know. ”

“I’m sick, you know.” My words are slurring now.

Finally. “I thought about being selfish. Before I told you guys, no one knew the truth. If I don’t tell anyone, and my parents won’t tell anyone of this shame, no one else has to know.

She doesn’t have to know. I could pretend nothing happened and still be with her. ”

The dark thoughts have haunted me ever since I found out the truth.

Sick. Corrupted heart. Vile.

My mind spun with possibilities. We could adopt. We could move far away and leave this world behind us. We could change our names and hide our identities. She’d never have to know she’s related to me. I could still love her and bask in her warmth, and no one would know.

It’s sick and I’m disgusted with myself.

It’s wrong.

And whenever I could fall asleep, whether on the plane or in my apartment earlier, my dreams would be filled with her—her kisses, our bodies coming together in a union so much more than the physical, her screams when she tremors in pleasure underneath me as I pound into her, chasing out my demons. Her laughter, the twinkle in her eyes.

The way she says I love you because she does love me, wholeheartedly, desperately, just like the way I love her.

When I’d wake up, I’d find my face wet with tears, my hands clutching the pillow she used before against me, my lungs drawing in the faint fragrance of jasmine, a smell that’s fading away, just like my life is without her by my side.

Ryland creeps closer and clasps me on the shoulder. “Steven. Steven, look at me.” His voice is terse. A command.

I glance up.

“Don’t make any rash decisions. You’re not in the right frame of mind right now. Talk to her. You owe her that. If you love her as much as you do, you owe her the truth.”

“Some of us aren’t allowed to tell the truth…

I of all people, understand that,” Maxwell begins, his words cryptic, “but in your case, I think you should tell her. She needs to hear it from you. Didn’t you say she’s looking for her father?

Eventually, she’ll find out. It’s better for her to learn it from you. ”

I nod glumly. “I know that,” I mutter under my breath. “I know that.”

“And we’ll be here for you afterward, Steven. All of us,” Charles says softly as he crouches down, his face grim, and the others agree in unison.

She deserves to know.

We’re a team. This is my last act of kindness to her as I stab her in the heart and cripple her in pain. My parting gift so she can receive the news with kid gloves, knowing I love her until the very end, until I’m not allowed to.

Because she’s worth it. And I should let her know that. She’s worth every wishing star in the skies, every factoid in the darkness of the night.

I’m not leaving her because she’s lacking—she needs to know that.

And hopefully, one day, when the dust settles and her heart heals, and the scar has faded, she can find a good man to love her. Because she deserves the love. She deserves everything in the world.

Tears cloak my vision and my chest tightens in a vise, stealing me of breath at the idea of her with another man, of someone else kissing those beautiful lips, listening to those soft sighs, eating the damn hot dogs with her in Central Park, doing all the things I want to do.

The weight on my chest smothers me and acid churns in my gut, swirling, roiling like a ship in dark seas amidst a hurricane. Another flash of pain—a bolt of lightning—hits me in my heart.

My fingers tremble as I pick up my cell phone, hover over her name, and press the call button.

“Steven? Steven, are you there? Are you okay?” Her sweet, frantic voice filters through the line.

My kindhearted darling Grace. Her first words are not of censure, not of anger, but of concern. For me.

“Steven?”

I let out a ragged sigh and clear my throat. The Andersons and Charles have stepped away, no doubt to give me privacy as they hover a few feet in front of me, talking amongst themselves in hushed whispers .

“I’m here and I’m fine.” Liar. My voice is hoarse and raw. “W-Where are you?”

“I’m with the girls. What happened?” I can hear the worry bleeding through her voice.

“Send me the address. I’m coming to you.”