I couldn’t listen anymore. I backed away feeling as if my veins were open and spewing blood. She’d flayed me open, leaving my beating heart unprotected.

She would never be able to forgive me.

“You’re not a bad man. I love you, so you can’t be a bad man.”

I earned the love of an eight-year-old, yet I couldn’t earn the love of a woman I would fucking die for.

No matter what I did, it would never be enough to repair the past and give her what she ultimately needed: a man who could hold her and fight battles on her behalf. I was a fighter. An assassin and mercenary. I could be so many things for her. I just had to figure out how to be the rest.

“Stop fighting with my mummy. I don’t want you to.”

I swore on Clara’s life I would find a way to be everything Zel needed. Every touch would still be torturous. Embraces almost a mythical dream. But it was possible, because I wouldn’t stop until I made her mine forever.

I’d done everything I could to ‘fix’ myself, but I refused to face reality. The brainwashing was too deep inside me. Too imbedded in my psyche to ever let me go. However, the intensity had faded just enough. I had more power. Power over myself. Power over my thoughts. It was a beginning.

I will find a way.

I would fucking love Hazel and share her future and be there for her always.

Fox died the night of the Russian massacre.

Roan had been reborn.

Zel wanted a fresh start.

And I knew exactly what to do to make her wish come true.

19

Hazel


I thought I had space in my heart to love two people. To share my life with another. I thought I could love another child to ultimately replace the one I lost.

I thought Roan would change—that Clara would show him a way to be human. I thought even though a tragedy had happened, I would be able to cope.

I thought so many, many things, and they all turned out to be bullshit.

Turned out my heart wasn’t a living, beating thing. It was made of concrete and lead and rock, destined to never love another or ever beat fully again.

Part of me died that day.

I wished I had died that day.

But I couldn’t.

So I kept going.

Alone.

* * *

The funeral was held on a large piece of land just outside of Sydney. I didn’t know whose property it was. All I knew was horses existed everywhere. Paints, palominos, thoroughbreds, and Arabians. Their long noses and velvet soft ears squeezed my heart until I couldn’t breathe. Clara would’ve loved it here. She would’ve hugged every horse, slept in the open fields, and begged never to leave.

It was the perfect place.

God, I miss you. The burn of tears that were never far away stabbed my eyes.

The rain that’d been a constant companion for a week stopped the moment we arrived. It was as if the mourning period had been put on hold to celebrate the life of one taken so young.

I’d existed in a fog all week. I didn’t like to dredge up excruciating memories of Oscar finding me still holding Clara, or the hearse that came to take her away. I didn’t like to recall the agony and tears of telling Clue that our little trio had been broken. I’d been terrified Clue would resort to self-harming again—to find a release—but I hadn’t factored in the comforting presence of Ben.

Clue had been so amazingly strong. She’d held me while I broke. She’d cried with me and laughed with me. She kept me sane. And it was all because Ben was her pillar, feeding her strength, giving her the safe haven she needed.

Ben did for Clue what Fox should’ve done for me. I had no one to bury myself in or cry myself to sleep in their arms. I would always love Clue like a sister and could never have existed without her, but I needed…him. I needed his strength, his fight. I needed his anger and even his fuckedupness. Instead, he left me to fumble all alone and proved just what an asshole he was.

Ben kept me alive the past week. He held us until we almost passed out from tears. He gathered us close and gave us a rock to cling to while grief threatened to wash us away from this world.

He fed us when we forgot to eat, and he began our therapy early. Instead of letting us wallow in sorrow, he found every painting Clara had ever created, every picture of her, every macaroni glued statue she’d done at school and made Clue and me tell him stories of my daughter.

He reminded us she would never be gone as long as we kept her alive in our thoughts, and we had to remember the good not the bad. We had to keep living for her.

A few days after Clara’s death, Clue received a phone call that shot life back into her. She went from couch potato to a whirlwind of efficiency and threw herself into arranging the most perfect funeral any little girl could want.

I looked over at my non-blood sister. The breeze ruffled her straight black hair and tears glistened in her eyes. She nodded, feeling the same bond, the same need to remind ourselves we were there for each other.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “For this. For everything.”

“Don’t thank me. There’s someone else you should thank, too.”

I looked over my shoulder at Ben. He looked regal and dapper in a black suit, black shirt, and the requisite My Little Pony badge over his heart. The funeral was in Clara’s honour—and My Little Pony had been her favourite.

My heart squeezed hard, threatening to send me keeling over.

I can’t do this.

I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, gathering the black mournful dress I wore and holding the shattered pieces of my heart.

Don’t cry.

I’d shed more tears the past week than I ever thought possible. I should’ve shrivelled into a husk with the amount of water I expelled. But no matter how much I wailed and cursed, I didn’t feel better. The tears escaped, but my sorrow didn’t. It sat festering in my soul, mixing with loneliness and slow building hatred for the man who’d left me when I needed him the most.

After everything I’d sacrificed for him. After everything I’d given him, he couldn’t bring himself to even attend Clara’s funeral. I’d not only lost my daughter forever, but him, too. I would never forgive him for leaving me to face this without him.

Not once did I think about the baby inside me. Not once did I turn to Clue or Ben and tell them the news. I wanted to forget. I wished I wasn’t pregnant. I wanted life to stop and leave me the fuck alone. Nothing else existed but the death of my daughter.

“Don’t feel sad, mummy. I don’t want you to feel sad.”

Sunshine suddenly pierced through the rolling grey clouds like a giant spotlight. The bright ray landed on a beautiful horse with a red-speckled coat and pink mane and tail. A roan.

My heart flopped thinking of a little red-haired boy who’d lost his entire family only to turn around and watch me lose mine. Where had he gone? What the hell was he doing?

What was more important than being here to say goodbye?

More rays of sun beamed through clouds, turning the rolling meadows into glittering green blades, swaying gently with the breeze. The horses glowed like equine jewels, and I knew this was the right place for Clara. Nowhere else would’ve fit.

I didn’t know how Clue managed to find such an idyllic spot. I hadn’t bothered to ask. If Clue hadn’t helped me arrange everything, I would probably be mummified lying on Clara’s bed staring at the ceiling.

“Come on, Zelly. It’s about to start.” Clue wrapped an arm around my waist. I gave her a watery smile and let her guide me to a small semi-circle of black-shrouded people.

Everyone wore a My Little Pony item and the flowers dotting the small group were arrangements of ponies of different colours. Some unicorns, some with wings, some glitter-filled, some glow in the dark.

Clue and I had scoured all the toy shops and second-hand sellers for as many My Little Ponies as possible. There were so many I had no idea what I’d do with them afterward.

The reverend began to talk, and I tuned out. Ignoring the small huddle of children from Clara’s school and a few teachers who’d come to say goodbye, I stared at the horses. So powerful but delicate. So strong but gentle.

They hypnotised me as the service droned on and on. I didn’t need to know how miraculous Clara had been. I’d lived it.

“I’m tired. I’m going to sleep now.”

Finally, the reverend’s sermon came to an end and arms went around me. I shut myself down, focusing only on the animals my daughter loved more than anything in the world. I couldn’t stand people touching me, consoling me.

Once the final stranger had hugged me and a hushed expectation filled the air, I panicked.

I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t do this.

I’m not ready!

The reverend walked toward me, and I took a step back, shaking my head. He took my arms gently and laid the hand-painted urn in my hands.

It was cold and lifeless and my façade broke. A single tear streaked down my face knowing I would never hold Clara again. Never see her smile or laugh or grow.

“Don’t be mad at him, mummy. He needs you.”

My sadness switched to anger. Him. He did this. The man who loved my daughter so fiercely, he made the clock tick faster—take her quicker than I ever wanted.

My mind tried to tell me it was a blessing. That she’d gone before being paraded through hospitals or prodded by merciless doctors. She was free now. But the mother in me couldn’t see it that way. It didn’t matter that she was in a better place and eternal. All that mattered was she was dead.