Page 84 of The Dark Before Light

“No,” I whisper. “Her disease has already progressed too far.”

“Kier. Son. Look at me.”

I lift my head slowly. His blue eyes are bright with the grief he can’t hide, but he’s smiling. He grabs my face in big, warm hands and pulls my forehead to his.

“You did it, kid. You did it.”

My eyes burn. “But at what cost? We’ve lost Mam. Liz. Some fucker tried to kill me twice and threatened Alistair and Gail. And God help me, if something happens to Talia, I’m afraid of what I’d do. Who I’d become.”

He draws back enough to show me a raised gray eyebrow. “Talia, eh?”

I smirk tiredly. “Yeah.”

“Tell me about her.”

“She came out of nowhere.” Twice. “Long legs and lion eyes. She’s a psychologist. Her IQ is higher than mine. I’m a goner.”

He chuckles. “She doesn’t let you get away with shit, does she?”

My smile widens. “Nope.”

He sobers. “And she isn’t a checkmark on a five-year plan?”

I flinch. “Jesus, Dad.”

He cups the back of my neck, squeezing gently. “I’m too old for tact. I know you loved Liz. She was a sweet girl. But Sorcha always thought you needed someone as hardheaded as you and twice as clever. As you know, she was rarely wrong.”

Grief punches me; tears blur my sight. “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough to save her.”

His stern mouth pinches, his jaw working to hold back a tide of tears. “I know,” he says gruffly. “But do you remember what she said that day? After she was diagnosed and you flew over here full of fire to tell her you were gonna find the cure?”

I remember, but I can’t fucking speak or I’m going to scream.

“She told you all she wanted was for you to be happy. That’s all either of us has ever wanted. Not a cure, not cars or houses or trips to fuckin’ Tahiti. So for the first time in your life, stop trying so goddamn hard. You deserve to live, Kier. Let it go. Just let it go. You’ve got nothing left to prove.”

The words shatter me, which shatters him. We sob and cling to each other’s faces like drunks. We don’t notice the rain falling in thick, freezing sheets, or the wind that screams through headstones—only the space between us where a life of love is ending and another finally begins.

The second the plane reaches cruising altitude, Sven marches up the aisle to loom over me.

“Are you ready to talk?”

I crack an eye open. “Bully.”

Dylan snorts somewhere behind us.

“Avoidance isn’t going to make this go away,” Sven snaps, lowering into the seat facing mine.

I sigh and sit up straighter. “No, you’re right.”

I’ve been putting off this conversation for nearly two weeks, purposely staying focused on the lab, my parents, and—for the last five days—exchanging texts with Talia. I’ve kept them completely innocent, mainly to fuck with her head. But the payoff is she’s been opening up to me. Giving me access to her day-to-day life. I know about the publishing house she’s in talks with and the fact her client list has shrunk to the point she’s reduced her hours to three days a week. I know her hopes, her worries, her fears. Her guts. And every day, she grows more beautiful to me.

Now that we’re headed home two days earlier than planned, all I want to think about is surprising her. Kissing her. Holding her. Shoving my nose in her hair and breathing her in.

Never letting her go.

“There’s good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

With effort, I set aside thoughts of Talia. “Doesn’t matter.”

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