Page 10 of Second Shot

Mechanical and cold, one reviewer had said.Holding nothing of the artist’sessence.

I’d laughed bitterly at that, because they were wrong. It wasn’t that my heart and soul weren’t poured out on the canvas - it’s that theywere.

Mechanical.

Cold.

Two words that describe meperfectly.

I’d turned off my emotions years ago. The only thing that had made me feel wasKane.

And nowNoah.

I could run from Kane. But not from the child we’d created. And the emotions he stirred inside me were, at times, scary ashell.

Because I lovedhim.

And one thing I’ve learned in life is that the things you love are always taken fromyou.

“You want me to come with you?” Felix asks, when I don’t get out of thecar.

“No. I need to do thisalone.”

He nods, then places his hand behind the seat, stretching out as he glances backwards at Noah. “We’ll just hang outhere.”

I try to return his smile, but my face feels strained, and even the motion of opening the car door takes every ounce of mystrength.

It rained earlier, and the grass is still damp, squelching under my feet as I make my way through the maze ofheadstones.

It’s been a year since I’ve been here.Toolong.

I swallow past the lump in my throat when I find the two headstones that have JACOBS printed across thetop.

AudreyJacobs.

Beloved wife andmother.

“Hi, Mom.”I place my hand on the cool stone as I crouch down and place the flowers I brought in the metal stand. There’s a small engraved picture of her above her name that’s been smoothed out from the elements. I trace my fingers over the soft lines of her face. A face that looks so much like mine. It’s odd to think that she wasn’t much older than I am now when shedied.

I never felt any deep sadness when my father used to bring us as kids. Maybe it was because I was too young to remember her. Too young to really feel her loss. But with Sam, I feel his loss in the very center of my being, like a hot knife stabbing my chest every time I think about all the things he’ll neverexperience.

Like meeting his nephew for the firsttime.

I inhale shakily and stand, tears pricking at the back of my eyes as I read my brother’s name, and the pathetic epitaph my father pickedout.

Adoredson.

Foreverremembered.

The biteof bitterness sinks into me, warring with the suffocating pain ofloss.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here in a while,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around my chest and shivering as a cool breeze blows around me. “I did that art exchange we always talked about. It was supposed to be six months in Rome and six in France, but…” I swallow hard and blink back tears. “I only made it toRome.”

I was there five months when I realized I was pregnant. It was Felix that mentioned it when he’d come to visit. He’d made a joke that I’d either been enjoying the pasta and pizza a little too much, or I waspregnant.

I’d laughed about it, until I’d tried to remember the last time I’d had myperiod.

“I can’t be.” I’d denied it fiercely, even as the truth blared like a siren in my head. “I’ve had sex once in the last year, there’s noway…”

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