Page 92 of The Refiner

Keagan takes a step forward, putting a hand on my chest. “I was going to tell you when the time was right. You’ve been recovering and doing so well that I didn’t want to damper your progress.”

“I’ve been fine!”

The procedure only slowed me down a day. After that night of icing with Keys, I was fine. I didn’t need any pain relievers or ice, which Keagan felt was a mistake. The point is, my health was fine.

And so were me and Keagan.

We spent the last three weeks binge watching movies together, making dinner, and cooing over the adorable faces Tatum made. We were happy. We were content.

Taking a settling breath, I lower my voice so as not to wake Tatum. “Why are you going back to that asshole?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Keagan scoffs. “I can’t just take a six-month mission trip like you did, Astor. I don’t make that kind of money.”

“I could help you,” I offer. “You don’t have to go back. You can stay here with me and Tatum for as long as you need.”

She blinks back tears. “As long as I need to do what, Astor? We can’t just keep living in our own little bubble. Eventually, you’ll have to return to work and so will I. The world just doesn’t stop because we’ve had a shitty couple of months.”

I understand what she’s saying, but I’m not ready to let this go yet. “Things have changed.”

She nods. “They have, but there are other things that haven’t.” Her hand comes up and cups my cheek. “My career is in Fairfield. I know Archer is a volatile piece of shit, but I earned that promotion. I worked hard for it. I can’t just give that up, Astor. I can’t lose everything.”

“But you haven’t lost everything. You have us.”

Her hand slides to the back of my neck as she moves in closer, molding herself to me. “It’s because I do have both of you that I’m doing this.”

I pull her away, so I can look her in the eyes. “I don’t understand.”

Keagan’s cheek twitches as her lip quivers. “You and Tatum are all I have left in this world.”

“Then why leave?”

“Because I can’t keep hiding. I can’t avoid my reality. I need to work, Astor, and you need to take care of Tatum on your own.”

I understand her need to have a career, and I support that choice, but this doesn’t seem that simple.

“You’re scared.”

She laughs, but it lacks humor.

“Don’t act like I’m being ridiculous. We’ve been through too much to start lying to each other now.”

“You’re right,” she admits, sliding to the floor. “I am scared. I’m scared people will think I’m a floozy who stole my sister’s love—”

“I wasn’t—”

She holds her hand up, stopping me. “People won’t know that you both weren’t in love. They’ll only know she died having your baby. They will always talk, Astor.”

“I don’t care. I’ve dealt with rumors before.”

But that’s not all she’s worried about, I can see it in her eyes.

“Love can’t be born from grief,” she admits softly, “and Tatum deserves the two most important people in her life to be a constant.”

“And you don’t think we can?”

She shakes her head. “I’m saying I need time to decide.”

Suddenly, my decision of taking six months on the Grace of Mercy to figure things out comes back to bite me in the ass.

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