But he’s also stalking me on behalf of my family, and I can’t feel good about that. Turning away, I move briskly across frost-crisped grass to the spa. There’s been no fresh snow for a few days, but patches of it still linger in the shade of tall ponderosas. On the horizon, the Cascade peaks twinkle like vanilla-frosted cupcakes. I’ll miss those when I’m gone. I’ll miss all of this, the resort I’ve come to love like home.
I’m breathing hard by the time I reach the spa. Bree’s waiting for me at the front door. With one look at my face, she steps forward and pulls me in for a hug.
“Aw, hell,” she says. “I was afraid of that.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Boy trouble?”
I nod against her shoulder, feeling tears well again. “Yes. Well, it’s unfortunate.”
“Come on.” She draws back and takes my hand. “I was coming for a facial anyway, so they’ll squeeze us both in. Want to talk about it?”
Do I? I fall into step with my sister, aching to unload everything. The breakup with Bradley and my reasons for it. Are there any secrets worth guarding at this point?
Maybe they weren’t worth guarding in the first place. I think of the pain in Bradley’s eyes, the flash of betrayal when I laid it all out for him. My marriage plans, my dead brother. All of it.
I’m so tired of hiding. So tired of serving as defender of my family’s interests. I know that’s awful, but it’s true.
Bree glances at me as we stride together down the hallway toward the treatment rooms. “Iz?”
I stop walking, bracing a hand on the edge of a river rock fountain. “It’s my fault.” I gulp, stunned I’ve managed to blurt this out. “All of it.”
She turns with concern creasing her brow, bracing a hand on the wall. “What’s your fault, Izzy?”
This is it. My moment to come clean to the Bracelyn family, or at least my sister. “The split with Bradley,” I say slowly. “The fact that my family’s kingdom is in trouble.” I take a breath so I can force out the rest of the words. “It’s my fault my baby brother died.”
Her mouth falls open, and I instantly regret saying this to a mother. “I’m sor—”
“Izzy, wh—why would you say that?” She steps closer and lifts a hand to my shoulder. “Start with what you just said—your baby brother?”
I don’t know if I’m relieved or horrified that’s the question she asked first. But I owe her an answer. I owe so much to everyone.
“It’s true.” I close my eyes and drift back to that horrible day. “I was twelve, my first time in charge of watching him. It was only for an hour, and my mother said he shouldn’t need a nap.”
But he looked sleepy, so sleepy.
“I put him in his bassinet,” I continue, breath coming faster now. “He’d been crying, and I thought he might like to lie down. To rest just a bit before Mother returned. But when she came home—” I choke on the last words.
I’ve gotten this far, but I can’t say the rest. Can’t capture the anguish of my mother falling to her knees, sobbing as she held his lifeless little body. I can’t describe the emptiness in the Duke’s eyes as he walked through the palace doors to find his home teeming with doctors and nurses, each one fighting to bring Oliver back.
But they couldn’t do that. They couldn’t, because I ruined everything. Me, I did that to my family.
I open my eyes and meet Bree’s gaze head-on. “He died in his crib,” I whisper. “I never should have laid him down. They said he didn’t need a nap, and I didn’t listen, and it’s all my fault.”
“Oh, God.” Bree’s green eyes fill with tears as her fingers tighten around my shoulder. “It was SIDS, wasn’t it?”
“SIDS?” I comb my brain for the translation and come up empty. “I don’t—”
“Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.” Her brow furrows. “Izzy, that’s no one’s fault. It’s just a thing that sometimes happens. A horrible, awful thing, but no one’s to blame.”
“Of course it was my fault.” I shake my head. She’s wrong about this, obviously. I’ve had eighteen years of my family telling me unequivocally that I’m to blame. “I laid him on his side so he could cuddle his toy elephant.”
The side-sleeping, the toy in the crib—all things you’re not supposed to do with a baby. Doctors say this all the time, in every advanced country in the world. I’ve read up on it since then. I know.
Bree shakes her head slowly. “You were twelve? Izzy, you were a kid.” Her fingers slip down my arm to grip my hand. “Even if you weren’t, it happens all the time. To grownups—experienced parents.”
I shake my head. I know better. I’ve heard my parents say it time and time again. “They trusted me, and I screwed up. It’s my fault.”
She shakes her head, then frowns. “Wait, so you can’t be with Bradley because you’re afraid of becoming a mother?”
I swallow hard, wishing it were that simple. “I can’t be with Bradley because I’m my parents’ only surviving child. I’m duty-bound to commit to a strategic union.” It sounds so clinical when I put it that way. “Marriage. It’s my job to connect our family to the royal court of Saxenheim. I’m promised to the crown prince.”
Her face goes pale as realization dawns. “Oh, God—Izzy, I—I don’t know what to say to that.”
I look down at my feet, aware that this tradition sounds absurd outside my own culture. “It’s just the way it is,” I say. “The way it’s always been.”
“I had no idea that was even a thing,” she says. “I mean, obviously, I’m aware of arranged marriage. I just—I didn’t realize you were wrapped up in it.”
“Few people do.” I swallow back a fresh wave of guilt for keeping this from everyone. “Not outside Dovlano, anyway. I’m so sorry, Bree. I should have told you. I know you never would have trusted me with Brian if you’d known, and—”
“Hush, Izzy.” She drags me into her arms and hugs me tighter than I deserve. All this love, all this familial affection, it’s so much more than I can accept without guilt. “Oh, honey. I can’t believe you’ve been carrying all this around with you.”
I do feel lighter, but my heart is unbearably heavy. There’s nothing Bree can say or do to fix how I hurt my family. Hurt Bradley, for that matter. So much destruction and sadness, all at my hands.
But breathing the baby-powder scent of my sister’s hair, I feel loved. Forgiven, even though I have no right to absolution. This unconditional affection, it’s the rarest possible gift.
It’s exactly what Bradley offered, if only I could accept.
“Come on.” Bree draws back, wiping her eyes. “We’ve got a private suite for the facials. Let’s get settled with some tea, and you can tell me all about it. Or if you don’t feel like talking, we can do that. Just know I’m here for you, okay?”
I nod and feel a tear slip down my cheek. Could it be this simple? Forgiveness from my sister, even knowing what I’ve done, who I am, what I’ve hidden. There’s no way I could deserve this.