What Grows Dies Here

Her words tore through my insides like a knife. It was an effort not to collapse onto the floor from the pain. But I managed.

“I can’t look at him without seeing…” I trailed off, my voice breaking. I scrambled for the strength I needed. Took a breath. “I can’t look at him without seeing what we lost,” I admitted quietly. “I can barely look at myself. And I know he lost something too.”

I remembered the way we held each other. The sorrow that he wore like a scar.

“I know he’s hurting, but I can’t... It’s ugly and it’s weak, but I’m not strong enough to be with him, Stella. I’m barely strong enough to look at myself in the mirror.” I looked at my darling friend, tears swimming in her eyes. I cupped her cheek. “My amazing friend, I’m barely strong enough to look at you.”

It was a new part of me I hated, the instinct to recoil from my friend growing new life. Who was growing a family.

I had to escape. Now. So I stepped back, adjusting my blazer. The smile on my face split me apart, but I managed it.

Stella looked so small and helpless on that sofa, but I reminded myself she was far from helpless. “You’re coming back, right?” she asked, her voice childlike.

“Of course, I’m fucking coming back,” I promised. “It’s Nepal.” I arched a brow at her. “Not exactly my natural habitat. I’m going for a vision quest. For an eat, pray, find some fucking peace type experiment. Then I’ll come back. I’ll get more Botox. Plan a party. I’ll be me again.”

The idea of that seemed ludicrous, but I clung to it all the same. “Even if I’m not me again, I’ll come back. For you, mon chéri.” I did some quick math and guesswork. “I’ll definitely be back within six months.”

I winked at her, leaned in to kiss her cheek then walked out the door.

I was rather proud of myself… I didn’t break down in tears until about four hours into the flight.

I was deep in the mountains when I got the call.

Technically, you weren’t allowed phones at the monastery, but I’d managed to charm one in. With Stella pregnant and her husband fighting against the Russian Mob, I needed the phone.

I had Greenstone Security on retainer, keeping an eye on Stella and keeping me updated as to what was going on.

And what was going on was, Stella got kidnapped.

By the fucking Russian Mob.

In broad daylight.

They shot her bodyguard, Eric—who was just about to move in with his boyfriend and was full of excitement about the future—in the face.

They shot him in the fucking face.

When would this be over? The blood, the death. The loss of fucking children before they could breathe air.

I stared out at the mountains, forcing myself to take calming breaths. I was not manifesting that shit.

This would not happen to Stella.

We were done with loss. There had been enough.

On that thought, I began my hike down the mountain. I was not healed. I had not found inner peace, but my friend needed me.

I was pacing the porch at Karson’s cottage.

It was the first time I’d been back since that day.

I wondered if all my clothes were still crammed into that closet. If all my beauty products were still littered around his bathroom, even though he’d always kept them meticulously arranged after I’d used them.

What would’ve happened, I wondered, if I’d not fought him that day. If I’d stayed. If I’d agreed to marry him then and there?

I’d be in this house, with a baby. With a family.

I shook my head.