Page 182 of Heartbeats & Highways

“How are you getting home?” I asked.

“A prospect is coming to get me. See you guys soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Savage murmured.

Duke walked through the alley toward the street.

I unlocked the bakery and disarmed the alarm. Savage set it again behind me as I trekked up the stairs. Despite the nap in the car, exhaustion weighed me down. I didn’t know how much of it was pregnancy and how much of it had been what I’d just lived through.

The apartment looked the same, but I was seeing it through a new lens. It was my haven.

“Good to be home, isn’t it?” Savage asked quietly from behind me.

“You read my mind.”

He shut the door and locked it. “You hungry? I can whip us up some eggs, or something.”

“You can whip up eggs?” I asked with a small smile.

“Eggs are easy, but I wouldn’t mind being taught a few things by you.”

“Yeah?” I smiled. “I could do that. You’ve taught me a few things already.”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

“How to love with my whole heart,” I said softly. “So, whatever it is you want to tell me, it won’t change anything for me.”

He looked at me and nodded slowly. “Let’s sit.”

We sat on the couch. He grabbed my hand and laced his fingers through mine. His gaze was intense when he said, “Acid died last night.”

I swallowed.

“His brain swelled too fast. They tried to relieve the pressure in emergency surgery, but . . .”

“I’m so sorry.”

“The funeral is tomorrow,” Savage explained. “They wanted to wait until we were all back before we . . . before we said goodbye to him.”

I was so broken, so traumatized—barely breathing after what I’d just lived through. And now we would have to deal with the truth—the horror—that Acid died so that Savage and I could have a life together.

His sacrifice couldn’t be in vain.

But I didn’t say anything of it to Savage. Instead, I took him into my arms and didn’t let go. Not even as early morning light winked through the blinds like proof that the world would keep turning and you’d find a way to go on despite grief closing in on you.

Chapter 48

“I don’t haveanything to wear to a funeral,” I said to Savage.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, bare-chested, his arms resting on his thighs. Savage looked up at me, his face gaunt, his expression shuttered.

I wasn’t sure he heard me but then he said, “We’ll go to Willa and Duke’s. Between Willa, Waverly and Sailor, they’ll have something you can wear.”

Both of us were exhausted down to our marrow, but somehow, we had to rouse ourselves.

Because we had to put one of his brothers into the ground.

“Do they know?” I asked. “The Old Ladies, I mean?”

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