Until Harry(19)

I pushed away the thought of Lavender and the surfacing memory of Kale revealing to me that he was having a child with another woman, but I knew when I was by myself I would relive that day over again just like I had a million times before.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” my father murmured.

I pulled back and looked at him. “What do you mean?”

He frowned. “We’re nearly there.”

He took my hand and starting walking again. “I’m sorry if this upsets you,” my father said as he brought us to a stop in front of a grave.

The white marble teddy bear plaque was the first thing I noticed about the grave. My eyes picked up the carved-stone toys and artificial flowers a few seconds later. My heart hurt when I realised what I was looking at.

“You want to show me a baby’s grave?” I asked, annoyed. “Why would I want to see this, Dad? Of course it will upset me.”

I avoided looking at the picture of the little angel on the headstone because I didn’t want to see the face of the beauty that was taken far too soon from the cruel world I still roamed.

“Because I want you to hear it from me before you hear it from anyone else,” my father replied.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, my mind a pool of confusion. “You want me to know what?”

My father looked away from me. “About a year after you left, something awful happened.”

My stomach instantly began to churn.

“Wh-What do you mean?” I asked, my voice tight.

My father rubbed his face with his free hand. “You knew Drew was pregnant when you left, but what you don’t know is that she gave birth to a boy four months after you went to New York. The baby was two months premature. At first everything was perfectly perfect. Even though he was small, he was healthy and everyone was happy. Then when he was two months old, he was diagnosed with leukaemia. He fought hard for a few months, but eight months after he was diagnosed, his little body couldn’t take any more—”

“Dad. Please,” I cut him off, not wanting to hear anything further.

My father ignored me and pressed on, “The doctors tried everything they could, but he—”

“Stop it,” I snapped. “Just. Stop.”

“He died,” my father finished.

I whimpered and flung my hands over my mouth as I took a step away from my father and from the grave. “Dad, no,” I whispered. “Please be lying.”

My father’s features shone with pain. “I wish I was lying, sweetie, but I’m not.”

I looked at the grave and at the grass that covered it. “This baby . . . this is . . .”

“Lane,” my father sorrowfully said, “this is Kale’s son.”

My eyes grew blurry, but when I looked at the gravestone once more, I could make out a single sentence that completely destroyed me: “In loving memory of Kaden Hunt.”





CHAPTER SIX

Thirteen years old (thirteen years ago)

Where is Kale?” my Uncle Harry asked as I pulled on my brand-new leather ankle boots that my mum bought me for fifty per cent off in River Island. They were the cutest boots I had ever seen and possibly were the most fashionable, trendy item of clothing that I owned.

“Lane,” my uncle chuckled, “are you listening to me?”

I looked up when I got both of my boots zipped up, and for a moment I just stared at my uncle. Aside from Kale, he was definitely my favourite person. He was, quite literally, the coolest uncle I could have ever been blessed with. He was like a best friend to me – no, scratch that, he was a best friend to me. We hung out all the time and did a bunch of stuff together. He brought me fishing – which I didn’t like; the quiet time with him was the only reason I went along – and bowling and a million other places that don’t seem fun, but were brilliant because my uncle was the one sharing the experience with me.

My Uncle Harry was my mother’s twin; he was older than her by five minutes, a fact that he liked to remind her about often. And the reason I was so close to him was because they were so close. They saw each other every single day, and I mean that literally. My father had even become close to my uncle; it got to the point where they hung out all the time too. He lived only five minutes away from our house, so I was round at his place just as much as he was around at ours.

I made sure I went round to him every day, even if it was just to say hello, because I didn’t want him to be alone. He was only forty-one years old, but had to endure one of the hardest things a man would ever have to do. Last year he had to bury his wife, my Aunt Teresa. She had breast cancer and didn’t even get a chance to fight it because she found out when it was too late.

I didn’t like to think about her, because it made me miss her. We hadn’t been very close because she was only in my life for a few short years before she died, and I was too young then to make time for her, but I knew my Uncle Harry loved her very much, and that saddened me because I knew he felt lost without her.

I personally thought my Uncle Harry was the bravest man to ever walk the earth because I loved Kale with all of my heart, and I wasn’t even married to him. If he died, I think I would die too because I would be too sad to live without him. That’s how I knew I could never be as great as my uncle – because I could never be as strong as he was. It took a lot of strength to live on without someone you loved as much as he loved my Aunt Teresa. It made me idolise him.