“His?” I joke because it makes me smile and that keeps me from crying. “It’s far too early to know.” Although the look on my face must be torn between the two.
“I thought I lost you,” Seth breathes out. “I’m so happy right now. I don’t know how I could be happier.” There’s only sincerity from him. No fear, no anger, no worries in the least. “Oh my God, I love you so much and now we’re having a baby.”
“I love you too,” I tell him back and both love and hurt radiate through me.
“I promise I’ll be good for you two. I swear to it,” he whispers against my lips and I kiss him as hard as I can, holding him close to me before telling him I know he will.
As he lifts me into his lap, one thigh in each of his strong hands, I squeal in genuine giddiness. In this moment, I pretend. I pretend that I’m not sick. I don’t do it for him; I do it for me.
Because I want this so badly. That other version of us I saw in this room the first time he brought me here, they would be doing this. Right here, exactly as we are. I want that. I want that other life where we can have our happily ever after. A real one with all the bells and whistles.
“I love you so much,” I whisper in the dip of his throat and he’s quick to capture my lips in a kiss before telling me, “I love you more.”
Impossible.
Seth
I leave Laura where she is in the bed, feeling on top of the world. She’s sound asleep after hours of me worshipping her body.
Of all the scenarios I’d imagined, her being pregnant never occurred to me. Not once did I think that she was keeping that from me.
She said she wanted to be sure before telling me. She wanted the baby to be healthy and live past those first twelve weeks. She shouldn’t have had to carry that burden alone.
Never. She never has to carry the weight of anything alone.
The only reason I’m leaving her now is because Declan said his news couldn’t wait.
Whatever it is, whatever he found, it couldn’t wait.
The entire drive to the estate, I think about how I’ve never even held a baby. Not a little thing.
I hope it’s a boy. Although a little girl with Laura’s eyes would make the world stop. Shit, my heart feels like it’s exploding. I went from one extreme to the other, feeling like I was trapped in hell to being lost in heaven.
I can’t stop smiling. Even when I reach the estate, I can’t stop it. That’s why I sit there for longer than I should, and the only reason I get out of my car is because Declan comes out and walks toward me.
“Hey, sorry it took so long,” I start to tell him. Laura wants to keep it a secret, but how could I not tell everyone?
The look on Declan’s face is what finally rights me, what grounds me to the paved drive of this place and the merciless world I live in. He’s deathly pale and there’s not a hint of humor on his face.
“It’s the PO Boxes.” Declan starts talking before I can say another word. He’s got papers in his hands and he looks down to read one before getting frustrated. “Get in,” he says as he gestures to the car and pulls the handle of the passenger side before I can even unlock it.
The car beeps softly, the headlights flashing and by the time I’m sitting in the driver seat, he’s turned on the interior light above our heads.
“It’s been too long, do you blame me for what happened?” He reads the first line of the paper in his hand. It’s not folded but there are creases that show on the sheet.
“What is this?” I question him before he can read the next.
“Letters,” he says and shakes them in his hand. “Walsh didn’t lie to you. He’s been talking to Marcus. Marcus is the one who knew and told him.”
Blood drains from my face and I snatch the photocopies as Declan tells me, “Two weeks ago Walsh went to the PO Box.” He finally sits back in his seat but he stares blankly ahead as I read the lines of letters. Some in Marcus’s handwriting, others in a different style.
One starts Old Friend, the other No Longer Friend. Marcus refers to Walsh as No Longer Friend.
There are dozens in my hand but before I can ask, Declan tells me, “There are hundreds. He stores them there, but none postmarked from two weeks ago. He must have taken it with him to reply.”
“This is how he knew about Laura and me? It’s how he found out about us?”
Declan nods somberly and says, “It has to be. He photocopies the one he sends to Marcus and keeps them together. He’s been doing it for years. It looks like Marcus used to give him information.”
“What? Marcus is an informant?” No fucking way. My head spins with scenarios, including one where the FBI allowed him to get away with murder in order to keep tabs on other men in this world. Men like us.
“No, it’s in riddles. Like he was toying with Walsh and they developed a rapport. Marcus handed over men he wanted to get caught.”
It’s all in riddles and ciphers and we need more time for the rest, but we’ve already deciphered one code. Birds are protected, dogs are men to be killed.
He grabs the papers and flicks through them before picking one and reading.
“It’s heard I’ll lose you soon. Are you traveling far from the woods? The dogs are barking in a way that tells me you’ll leave them alone to roam. Tell me that can’t be true.”
He flicks to another page, the light casting down on his face and illuminating the letters.
“No, no, I’ve only given them the idea, I’m moving the luggage. You know sometimes you must let mutts play in order to determine the breed.”
He only reads small passages of long letters. “He’s not going anywhere,” Declan tells me, his head still shaking as he swallows. “He’s letting the men beneath him think he is in order to see what they’ll do.”
“How do you know?” I question although the puzzle pieces of what he read line up, one after the other.
“It doesn’t make sense otherwise. You know Marcus. You know his riddles and the way he fucks with people. He must’ve sent Walsh a letter years ago and Walsh found a way to write back.”
“We’ve only been through a dozen from the last month, but they talk about us, Seth. They call us birds until months ago. This one,” he says and points to a page, tapping it and making it crinkle in the silent cabin, “this one has to be Carter.”
He reads the first halfway down the page. I know it’s Walsh’s writing. It’s a line that’s highlighted and I can already see the page beneath it has a highlighted line as well.
“I thought you said that bird was a friend? What did the thing do to warrant such hostility?”
“The Beast of a bird went after another, taking a small female. It flies so low; it must think it is truly a dog. I cannot have it in my woods. I told you, only birds must stay.” Moving to the page after, he reads, “I see the list of numbered dogs has changed, what did the one do to have vanished?”
“Numbered dogs?” I question, stopping him from continuing.
“There are numbers at the bottom of every letter, they have to be how Marcus identifies names to Walsh. We haven’t figured them out yet, but between the two letters Marcus sent to Walsh, one set of numbers disappeared.”