“How bad is Joanne’s condition, Zeke?” I ask when we walk down the hallway of the hospital, only a few steps outside her room.

We don’t have much planned for the evening, and there’s still some time until the end of the visiting hours. But Joanne seemed weaker and weaker the longer we stayed, so we left when she said she wanted to go to sleep.

“Pretty bad,” Zeke says, looking distracted.

“You said the doctors don’t know what else to do. Have they stopped treatment?”

“Yeah. Right now she’s only getting medication to help her cope with the pain and the symptoms.”

So it’s as bad as I thought. I try to phrase the next question carefully. “Did they say… Did they tell you what’s going to happen now?”

“They gave her one year at the maximum, if that’s what you mean. And that was last month,” Zeke says, still looking ahead like he’s thinking of something else as we walk out into the parking lot.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I shudder from the slight chill in the night air.

Joanne seems lovely. No wonder Zeke is so attached to her. It must’ve been so lonely for him to grow up without a real family, and I’m sure Joanne must’ve been a big source of comfort for him.

Now that my parents are gone, I know what it feels like to be on my own. Seth has been playing the role of a family to me, and I know I’d do anything for him if he were to get sick. Because if I lost him, it would just be me, all alone, against the world.

The car beeps when Zeke presses the key fob to open the doors. I glance at him as we take our seats inside the black sedan.

What does it feel like? I wonder.

I imagine myself in Zeke’s position, replacing Joanne with Seth.

My heart clenches at the thought of seeing Seth in the hospital, lying weak and thin on the same bed, day after day. I’d hate leaving him after every visit, knowing it could be the last time I ever see him, knowing that I could get the bad news at any time.

And then it hits me.

At any given moment, Zeke could receive a call from the hospital, telling him the bad news.

That’s why he always picks up his phone calls when it’s Joanne calling, or the hospital. Even if he’s in the middle of something—something like…being in bed with me.

I should give Seth a call one of these days. It has been a while since we last spoke, and I shouldn’t take him for granted.

It’s silent in the car. We’re both busy with our own thoughts, but maybe it’s time to start a conversation. I feel disconnected from Zeke and I miss him, even though we’ve been together the whole night and he’s right by my side.

“Have I met Joanne before, Zeke? I saw her full name on the door and it sounded familiar in my head,” I say.

“Well, you met her at the wedding. Maybe you saw her name on the guest list? I remember you going through the list because you were worried about inviting someone you know.” Zeke chuckles at the memory.

I smile, glad the atmosphere has lightened up. “Yeah, but I mean before that.”

“Like, when I was still working for your dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Nope. I’m sure of it,” Zeke says. “Although…” Zeke pauses to think, then he adds, “Maybe it sounds familiar because of her last name, Whitley. Her husband used to lead the security team for your dad.”

“Oh, Trevor Whitley?” I ask. My heart starts to race as goosebumps appear all over my arms.

It can’t be…

Oh god, I hope it’s not him.

“Yeah. Trevor Whitley,” Zeke answers casually, unaware that he has just made my blood run cold.

Shit.

I thought my whole ordeal was over. I thought I wouldn’t have anything to do with that anymore, now that my captor is gone.

But maybe that was naïve of me. I should’ve known that a sin that big would follow me for the rest of my life.

“How did he die?” I ask, as if I didn’t already know the answer.

“I don’t know if you want to hear this, Ali,” Zeke says, quickly glancing at me with kindness in his eyes, kindness that I don’t deserve.

“I do.”

I think my hunch is right. I know how Trevor Whitley died.

But I have no idea how it actually played out. I don’t know any of the details.

I should. Because it was my fault that he died.

And I shouldn’t be spared the details. I should burn the details to my memory and replay them in my head at night.

I deserve that punishment, at least.

“I don’t want to bring up bad memories for you, Ali, because this has something to do with your parents,” Zeke says.

“Please tell me.”

“Okay. Well, the guy who killed your parents and…took you? He went after your dad’s people, including Trevor Whitley. Trevor’s guys were trying to track down that guy, while he was trying to do the same to them.”

“Walter,” I say.

“Yeah.”

It has been a while since I uttered that name. Ever since he died and his operation was shut down, I’ve been trying to distance myself from anything that could remind me of him.

But my sins will follow me anywhere.

I might as well confess. Maybe the Catholics are right. Maybe absolution starts with a confession.

“Zeke,” I say quietly. “Was Trevor Whitley working from the base in Redford?”

“Yeah,” Zeke answers. There’s a little surprise in his voice. Soon, there could be some anger, too.

“I was the one who told Walter about that place,” I say.

I turn to look at Zeke, studying his expression, waiting to see the shock and horror on his face, expecting hate and fury from him.

“I thought that could’ve been the case,” Zeke says, to my utter disbelief.

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“And you… You don’t hate me?”

Zeke frowns and glances at me before turning his attention back to the road. “Why should I hate you?”

Isn’t it obvious?

“I was the one who got him killed, Trevor Whitley and the rest of the men,” I say, spelling it out for him. Maybe there’s some misunderstanding here.

“You didn’t get them killed, Ali. Walter was the one who killed them. It’s not your fault.”

“But if I didn’t tell him, then maybe Trevor Whitley would’ve been able to find Walter first and win.”

“Right,” Zeke admits. Maybe he gets it now. Maybe he’s starting to hate me now. He asks, “And when you were Walter’s captive, wasn’t that what you were hoping would happen? For your dad’s men to come rescue you?”

“Yeah.”

“Exactly. So you obviously didn’t do it on purpose. You wanted them to succeed. Walter must’ve cornered you into giving out the information.”

Memories flash in my mind, of Walter asking me, over and over again, if I had any information.

He didn’t threaten to hurt me—he never harmed me physically, because it would make him look bad, like he couldn’t control his woman.

So instead, he told me he’d “gift” one of the younger girls to his men, as a reward for keeping all the prisoners in line.

“I could’ve tried harder,” I say softly.

“I know we haven’t talked about your time in captivity. I thought you’d probably want to forget about it and leave it in the past. But since you’re bringing it up now and you seem to have some misconceptions about how people perceive it… Ali, none of it was your fault.”

“It was my family’s fault for dragging all those people into danger, and it was my fault for putting them in a direct line of fire,” I say stubbornly as we drive into the basement parking lot of the apartment.

“No. Hold on,” Zeke says as he backs the car into its usual parking space.

My mind races with a million thoughts as I wait for Zeke. I’ve been living with this guilt for the longest time.

My dad was not innocent; he ran his own illegal operation. But everyone who worked for him was there out of their own volition.

I don’t know the specifics of what he did because I was still so young when he died—I know he used violence too, but only against other people doing the same kind of shady business that he did. There was nothing my dad hated more than people who took advantage of the weak—people like Walter.

So he discreetly tried to sabotage Walter’s business, which involved bringing people into the country illegally and forcing them to work at his farm for no pay.

Walter wasn’t happy when he found out about my dad’s interference, so he killed my parents and kidnapped me.

I was terrified. I kept wondering why they were keeping me alive, after killing my whole family. My mind came up with all kinds of sordid scenarios—rape, torture, slavery… The list went on.

As it turned out, Walter kept me around as a symbol of his victory. In the eyes of his associates, I was his girlfriend.

In reality, he was distant and cruel toward me, but he never had any interest in touching me sexually, or offering me to his men, or putting me to work at his farm. I was a prized trophy and he didn’t want to get a scratch on me.

Thanks to my position as the boss’ girlfriend, I could move relatively freely. I couldn’t leave the compound any time I wanted, but I could chat with anyone on the inside.

So I started chatting to Walter’s men, trying to find someone who still had a heart. And I found that in Seth.

With Seth’s help, I escaped Walter’s farm and together we helped other people get away. Things blew up when Seth finally attacked the farm and killed Walter.

Up until a few months ago, when I moved to the city, I’d been helping Seth fight Walter and men like him.

I’ve been feeling guilty about washing my hands off this, when Seth continues his fight. There’s always more I could do to make up for all my sins.

And now Zeke is telling me none if it was my fault?

Zeke finally stops the car and turns to look at me. There’s no hatred in his eyes—not even anger. Just kindness.

“Ali, listen to me,” he says, taking my hands in his. “You were a victim of your circumstances. You got caught in this mess, but none of it was your fault. You understand that?”

“But if it wasn’t for me, Trevor Whitley would’ve been alive,” I protest. “Him and maybe many other men who were with him.”

“But you didn’t have a choice.”

“How could you say that, when I’m responsible for so many deaths?”

“Did you personally point a gun at them and pull the trigger?” Zeke asks, staring at me with his piercing eyes.

“No,” I admit.

“Exactly. It’s not your fault, Ali,” he says sincerely. “Please believe me when I say that nobody blames you for any of it.”

“Does Joanne know?” I ask.

“Yes.”

I grow quiet. I don’t know how she could be aware of my culpability in her husband’s death and not hate me. I mean, the way she just welcomed me like family…

“And she doesn’t hate me?” I ask, my voice breaking mid-sentence.

“Nobody blames you, Ali,” Zeke says reassuringly.

“And you… You don’t hate me?”

“Ali, I…” Zeke takes a deep breath, then says, “I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, as many times as it takes. I love you.”

My eyes well up, and tears stream down my cheeks. Nothing will stop them now.

“I love you, too,” I blurt out, finally saying out loud the words I’ve only ever uttered in my heart so far.

“Oh, Ali,” Zeke says gently as he takes me into his arms. For the first time in a long time, I feel safe, warm, and completely accepted.