When the Heart Falls

"You think I don't know that? I walk by him every day. He's got a nice big tombstone like he wanted. He died in front of me, remember? I saw his heart give out. I buried him. I run the business now." Dad’s shaking with anger.

Everything clicks for me in that moment. We, he and I and all of us, are just repeating cycles, like hamsters in a wheel, over and over we just repeat the same cycle because that’s all we know. But someone has to break it. Someone has to be the first to say, ‘No, this isn’t okay. I’m doing things differently.’ My dad couldn’t do it. Pete couldn’t do it. Stevie never had the chance to try. That leaves me. I owe it to my family, the past, present and future, to break this cycle, to pierce the darkness festering in this house with light. With truth. Truth without the sting of anger and hate. "You don't have to be like him. He's gone. He can't hurt you."

"I know."

I take another step toward him, palms up, my heart finally open to him in a way I’ve never been before. "He's gone."

Dad’s fists open, his eyes swell with tears. "I know."

I put a hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eyes, showing him that I understand, that I finally get it.

His tears flow harder, his face crumbling in front of me. "You were right. I killed my son. I killed him."

I hold out the envelope. "I have something for you."

"A letter?"

"From Pete. I'm sorry I kept it from you."

"Don't be. I won't read it." His mask is back on, but now I know what’s underneath. Now I can be the son he needs me to be, not the son he thinks he wants.

"You must."

"No. He hated me."

"He loved you."

I push the letter into his hand, and he opens it, then collapses to his knees. I kneel by his side, hand still on his shoulder so he knows he’s not alone. As he reads it, I remember the words, and we both mourn again for the man we lost that day. When he gets to the last line he looks up at me, eyes weeping. "Why didn't you call your mother? Why'd you go in his room?"

I fight my own tears. "I didn't read the letter when I found it. I was looking for Peter."

"Did you see him do it? You told me—"

I hold up my free hand to stop him from going down that rabbit hole. "I never lied. He'd already shot himself. That's what woke me." I clear my throat. "I never knew he had AIDS."

"He asked us not to tell."

"I know.”

My dad looks at me and says two words he’s never said to me before. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

He grips my hand on his shoulder. "Please stay.”

"I can't."

"Please, I can't lose you, too." He’s a desperate man, crushed by his own mistakes.

"You're not. I love you, Dad. I love you." And I do. I can feel it now, and I can say it without irony. I love him. And I also know that I’m making the right choice.

I hug my father for the first time in years. He grips me hard, but I pull away and stand to leave.

He grabs my sleeve, looking so lost and miserable. "If you leave, I can't forgive you."

"That's okay.” And then I say the words I’ve never been able to say to him before, but I finally can now. "I forgive you."

His grip loosens, and I walk away. The Savage curse is broken.





WINTER DEVEAUX

CHAPTER 35





I NEVER REALIZED how good Cade was at making architecture interesting until I had to listen to this tour guide go on and on about Notre Dame. They really hired the wrong person for this job, because I’m pretty sure this guy could make sex sound like the worst chore imaginable.

When we make it to the bell towers, the highlight of the tour, my heart cracks, just like the bell. Our group moves on, but Jenifer and I stay behind, staring at the gargoyles and chimera. I tell her what Cade told me about Notre Dame and the architecture.

“You miss him a lot?”

I nod. “He was supposed to be here. He was looking forward to this tour more than anything.”

She leans in next to me. “Look at it this way. He was spared the tour guide from hell. This tour might have been enough to get him to give up architecture forever.”

I laugh through unshed tears. “True. And that would be a real tragedy. He’s a genius.”

“You want to catch up with the group?” She turns to go back downstairs.

“Not yet. I’m going to hang here for a bit. I’ll catch up to you all later.”

“Okay.” She spares one look back at me before she disappears, and I’m left alone. The view isn’t as startling as the Eiffel Tower, but being in Notre Dame feels more sacred, more momentous. At least it would if Cade were with me.