Agony.

That’s the only word I can think of to describe the pain. Grief is a hurt deeper than any physical pain. It’s a fist clenching your heart and burning your soul, over and over. I’m searching for peace, a place to run and hide so I don’t see him when I close my eyes. See his death. It feels like my skin is tearing from my bones. I just want to escape these memories. These four walls. These four boys.

I’m so alone despite the hospital room being full. All four Pearson boys sit in various chairs around my bed, and I can’t mutter a word even though I’m screaming on the inside, because they lost their mother and father at the hands of mine. How can they still want to be here, to look at me?

My soul is so deflated. I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this. My scar is a constant reminder of what I lost—and what I didn’t. The baby we created lives on inside my womb.

The buzzing of a cell phone jerks Nixon from his slumber. He hasn’t left my side the entire week I’ve been here. Hayden stands holding up his phone and marches from the room to answer the call.

“Hey.” Cam smiles, taking my hand in his. “How you feeling today? Ready to go home?”

I stiffen at those words.

Home.

I don’t have a home anymore.

A place in the world.

“Here,” Nixon says, placing a straw at my lips. He always seems to know when I need things.

“If it’s okay with you, I want you to come back to ours-”

“We,” Cam interjects, nodding to his brother.

“We” Nix continues, “want you to come back to ours, It’s where you belong,” He furrows his brows, searching my eyes for confirmation.

Emotion forms a lump in my throat, and I nod my head yes. Because where else would I go? Back to the fake life I lived before all this?

“Great. Cam’s going to get your prescription from the nurse who’s been giving him the eye the whole time we’ve been here,” Nix jokes, winking up at Cam who grins. “Can’t help that the women love me.”

“She is a woman too. She looks fifty.” Brock shivers, making Cam grin harder.

“I like them with miles on the clock, if you know what I mean.” Cam’s eyes flash with mischief, earning a rare smile from Nixon.

For a brief moment, their normal back and forth makes me forget the devil I’ve known as an angel my whole life, robbed them of their father only a week ago.

Tears spring to my eyes and I act fast to swipe them away. Guilt eats away at me for what I’ve cost them.

“Ro.” Brock furrows his brow and comes to sit next to me on the bed.

He’s pulled away with a tug to his arm before even getting comfortable by Nixon. “She doesn’t need you knocking her injury,” Nixon warns in a tone that gives no room for argument. “Go pack her bag,” Nixon tells him with a jerk of his head, dismissing him.

Brock stiffens, then moves past him to collect my belongings.

“I can do that,” I try to tell him, but Nixon shakes his head and takes my hand.

“You need to take it easy and let us take care of you. It was too fucking close, Ro. We could have lost you.”

There’s pain in his eyes, and I’m not sure if he’s even dealt with the death of his father. Not one of them has mentioned him to me, or spoken about how their mother’s decomposed body was pulled from a grave in my backyard.

They thought she abandoned them. Oh God, my father was a monster and I never knew. I hate myself for still loving him, but no matter how much I wish I didn’t, I can’t stop. He’s my daddy, and I feel so broken right now. My entire being is fragmented, only held together by a thin thread.

“Please don’t cry, Ro. I can’t bear to watch it,” Brock grunts from the other side of the room.

“Then fucking leave so you don’t have to,” Nixon growls at him.

Brock drops my bag and folds his arms over his chest. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Nixon turns toward him, and I swear I see Brock flinch. “She doesn’t need you telling her she can and can’t cry because it makes you uncomfortable.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Then what did you mean?”

There’s a silent pause, and the air thickens before the door opens and Hayden marches back into the room. His feet falter when he sees the tension between his brothers. “What’s going on?” He frowns.

“Nothing,” Brock spits, twisting his face into a scowl and barging past Hayden.

He exits the room with an, “I’m staying at Ethan’s,” tossed over his shoulder.

Hayden places his hands on his hips and glares at Nixon, who shrugs. “What the fuck ever. We don’t need him here anyway. Let him be with his girlfriend.”

“Don’t be an jovial,” Cam reprimands Nixon. The dynamics are already shifting between the brothers.

Nixon hides his smirk with a hand swiping under his nose, but I saw the amusement reach his eyes. His younger brother is more mature than all of us.

“Brock should be with us right now” Hayden grunts.

“He needs his best friend to lean on. We all have our own process.” Cam tells him. Hayden turns his attention to me.

“Okay, Rowan, with you being eighteen now, you can choose where you go from here,” he begins, but he’s cut off when Nixon picks up the bag Brock dropped.

“She’s coming home with us. Where she belongs.”

Hayden nods and looks between Nixon and me. “Your friend is outside, Ro. Do you want me to tell her to meet you at our house?”

I can’t face Suzanne right now, but she’s been here every day waiting to see me. I nod a yes, and he nods in return before leaving the room.

* * *

Fingertips trace the shaking of my palm, and I smile at Camden, who flashes me a reassuring smile. The houses, side by side, look no different than how they always have. Yet everything has changed.

My heart thunders in my chest as Nix opens the car door and offers his hand for me to take.

Inhaling a few breaths, I step out, emotion clogging my throat and burning my eyes.

Being ushered inside gives me no time to change my mind and run—run away from it all and not stop until my lungs give out and my heart ceases to beat.

“We have the maid setting you up in one of the spare rooms, but you can crash wherever you want,” Camden says, sheepish, referring to his father’s room.

God, I never stopped to think about it from their point of view. Everything with Eric happened so fast - a whirlwind that knocked the air from my lungs and rational thought from my mind. I was addicted to him, to being wanted by him. He was a raging fire, and he consumed every part of me. The rest of the world was just billowing smoke too thick for me to see through. I was lost in him.

“The spare room is fine,” I tell him, giving his arm a squeeze. “Who’s the maid?”

“Hayden hired some old woman,” Nixon scoffs. “He thinks we need someone to keep the house in order.”

“She can’t cook, though,” Camden grumbles. “And I’m starving.”

I smile, and it feels so foreign on my face, I touch my hand to my lips.

“I’ll get Rowan settled and then make us some food,” Nixon informs Camden, who beams back at his brother. Nixon has always been a great cook. From a young age, he just knew how to mix flavors to create something delicious as a result. My father was also a great cook. My heart dips and the hollow pit in my gut spreads wide.

“Hey,” Suzanne calls, letting herself in. There’s pity creasing her features, and it makes the sickness burn a path up my throat. I dart down the corridor to the bathroom and empty my stomach.

Muffled voices hum in concern. I want to lock myself away in here, but know it will be useless. They’ll just seek me out.

Swiping a hand across my mouth, I click the door open and find Nixon waiting outside. I take the bottle of water and towel he offers.

“Let’s get you to your room and you can rest for a bit.”

Memories are in every inch of this place. It’s full to the brim, and it’s a special kind of torture when I get upstairs and come face to face with the giant window that looks out into both their yard and what was once mine. Clutching a hand around my stomach, I will my legs to stay standing. Police tape surrounds the yard, and there’s a white tent pitched where the grave was dug.

It feels like the sun has gone down and will never rise again. Turning into Nixon’s embrace, I inhale his scent and pray my heart doesn’t crack.

“It will be okay, Ro. I promise.”

Promises are empty. Eric made promises too. Now, he’s dead.

I pull from his grasp and move downstairs toward Eric’s room. Taking a few deep breaths, I push open the door, and my lungs squeeze tight. It’s just like he left it—like he’ll return home from work at any moment. His earthy scent still clings to the air, and my knees finally buckle.