Chapter 4

Dalton's POV

Ethan covered his nose, making no effort to hide his disgust.

Instinctively, I drew back and tried to hide the mud caked across my clothes.

The gesture only seemed to delight him.

"Oh, I get it now." His eyes lit up with feigned realization. "You came all this way because you knew Grace would be here, didn't you? That's why you're shamelessly hanging around here."

He sounded perfectly innocent, but every word was aimed to humiliate me.

I could feel Grace's eyes on me.

A wave of shame swept over me, and the last scraps of pride I had left made me lower my head.

That night, I was given a cramped storage room in a forgotten corner of the estate. It couldn't have been more different from the bedroom I'd had before I was sent away. Still, compared to the rundown cabin I'd lived in for the past three years, it felt almost luxurious.

A familiar ache began spreading through my chest. I curled up on the narrow bed and drifted off to sleep.

…

The next day, I stayed in the storage room from morning until night. No one came looking for me. It was as if the family had forgotten I existed.

On the third morning, I woke as the first pale light of dawn crept through the window.

Today was the day.

I washed up as best I could and took out an old sweater, faded from years of washing. Mom had made it for me herself. I wanted to wear it when I visited her grave.

The early spring morning was bitterly cold, and the thin sweater did little to keep out the chill. I shivered as I walked, while every old injury seemed to ache at once.

Three years of neglect had left my body frighteningly weak. I hadn't gone far before a metallic taste filled my mouth.

Still, I forced myself to walk faster. I was running out of time. Whatever happened, I had to make it to Mom.

But a moment later, my knees suddenly gave way. I pitched forward and hit the ground.

The impact left me dizzy. I tried to get back on my feet, but my body simply wouldn't cooperate.

As the minutes slipped by, even keeping my eyes open became difficult. A sharp pain tore through my chest with every breath.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I said to myself. "In the end, I couldn't even make it to you."

"Dalton, get in." A familiar voice cut through the haze. Before I could make sense of it, someone helped me off the ground and into the back seat of a car.

"G-Grace?"

She glanced at me, something complicated passing through her eyes. "Don't read into it. I just couldn't leave someone collapsed on the side of the road."

I managed a faint, almost grateful smile. Then, I curled into myself and stopped talking, conserving what little strength I had left.

When we reached the cemetery, Grace dropped me off and drove away.

I'd barely managed to steady myself when a slap struck me across the face.

"Dalton Whitmore, have you no shame?" Claire snapped. "Grace is Ethan's fiancee!"

Ethan stood behind her, wearing an expression of perfect innocence. "She's right, Dalton. I thought you said you were over Grace."

The blow made my already weakened body reel. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but another wave of agony seized my chest.

I knew what it meant. I didn't have much time left.

Taking several shallow breaths, I ignored them and stumbled toward Mom's grave. Nothing else mattered anymore.

By the end, I could barely stay on my feet. I dragged myself the last stretch until her headstone finally came into view.

"Dalton!" Claire shouted behind me. "Ethan is talking to you! Don't you dare walk away from him!"

She caught up and shoved me down before I could reach the grave.

I collapsed into the wet grass.

A violent cough seized me, and blood splattered across the bottom of Mom's headstone.

Panic surged through me.

"No…"

I frantically wiped at it with my sleeve, only smearing the stain farther across the stone. My vision blurred until I could barely make out the letters carved into the granite.

With the last of my strength, I reached out. My trembling fingertips brushed over Mom's name.

A small, peaceful smile touched my lips.

"Mom, I made it," I thought.

My hand slipped from the stone, and my eyes closed.

When I stopped responding, Claire only grew angrier. She grabbed me by the shoulders and hauled me toward her. "Dalton, I'm talking to you! Do you hear me?"