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If I’d kept my mouth shut, none of that would’ve happened, and she’d still be here. We’d still have more time with her.

“Oh, God.” My knees buckled, my legs suddenly unable to hold me. “This is my fault.”

“Rhodes…” Jude faced me, his eyes widening, as if the idea that I could blame myself was something else he couldn’t bear. He shook his head immediately and stepped closer.

“I did this,” I said as the grief and panic rose violently. It crashed through me, hard and fast, making my chest tighten painfully. My vision blurred with the rush of tears as the same brutal conclusion played on repeat in my mind.

This was my fault.

“No,” he insisted. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it fucking is.” My voice broke. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I should’ve let him talk. I shouldn’t have left her—”

“Rhodes, stop.”

“I should’ve stayed. I should’ve stayed with her. And with you. And now you…”

I couldn’t finish that thought out loud. I couldn’t say that I’d taken her from him too. Instead, I reached out and dragged him against me so hard he stumbled into me. His arms locked around me, and whatever control I had left disappeared. A sob tore through me. His body practically folded around mine as he buried his face in the crook of my neck with a broken sound.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out. The words came out uselessly as I cried. “I’m so sorry, Jude. I’m sorry.”

Unfortunately, there were some things an apology could never touch. I could hold Jude together, I could say I was sorry until my voice gave out, but none of it would bring her back. And standing there with my little brother breaking in my arms, I didn’t know how I’d ever be able to forgive myself.

CHAPTER 73

Theo

BABY KENNEDY: Mom’s gone.

WYATT: Shit. I’m sorry, Jude. What do you need?

BABY KENNEDY: I don’t know right now. I just… can you just tell the team? I don’t have it in me right now.

Yeah, we’ll take care of it. If there’s anything else, let us know.

WYATT: We’ll be across the street.

The TV played quietly in the background, some mindless show neither Wyatt nor I were actually watching. I lay stretched out on my bed, arms folded behind my head, and stared up at the rotating ceiling fan. Wyatt sat on the floor, legs crossed with his head resting against the side of the bed.

Neither of us said anything, and I had no idea how long we’d been there. We had nothing to say. Mrs. Kennedy had passed away, our best friend was hurting, and there was nothing we could do.

I blinked back tears, but a few stray ones rolled down my temples. The deep ache in my chest hadn’t gone away, and it wouldn’t for a long time. Not only did I love her too, but both my best friend and my boyfriend were broken by it—as expected. Jude hadn’t left the house once in the last twenty-four hours. At least, not as far as we’d seen. Wyatt and I kept checking through the window, like we might somehow catch him leaving. The only activity outside the Kennedy house was the neighbors bringing meals and offering condolences. We never once saw Jude. Mr. Kennedy always answered the door.

Rhodes was worse. He hadn’t answered a single call or text of mine. At least Jude texted back sparingly. Rhodes just ignored me altogether. I’d sent enough that I knew I’d probably crossed into annoying territory, but I couldn’t stop myself. Every unread message only left me more worried about him.

I hated feeling like I had to choose. Like staying close to Jude somehow meant leaving Rhodes alone when I knew damn well what losing his mom was doing to him. But Sariah had him. I had to trust that she did. If anyone knew how to reach Rhodes when he shut down, it was her. And if Rhodes wanted me there, I knew he’d call or text me.

Eventually.

Hopefully.

So, I chose to stay where I could actually be useful. I was close enough that Jude could get out of his house without explaining himself. Close enough that he could come in, shut the door, and be whatever he needed to be in that moment.

Wyatt shifted on the floor and scrubbed both hands over his face, sighing heavily.

“I still can’t believe she’s gone,” he whispered. We’d spent most of the last twenty-four hours letting our teammates know and anyone else who might be considered important. I’d said the words more times than I wanted to. And yet, I still couldn’t believe them. They sounded wrong every time.

“Yeah,” I replied, refusing to look at Wyatt. I knew we’d both lose it all over again if I did.