He took a while to form a sentence, to mull over the words he wanted because this was it. The final conversation we would ever have.

I knew that.

He knew that.

The damn forsaken world knew that.

Death’s cold laughter existed on the breeze as my one and true love, the husband of my heart and father to my daughter, gathered his strength for salvation.

“I—I killed a man.” He breathed rather than spoke; his confession barely audible. But it slithered into my chest, churning like butter, like sour milk, like fermented cream until I wanted to vomit such a sentence and pretend he was the good, hardworking man I’d given my heart to.

But I couldn’t refuse him.

I couldn’t ask questions or demand answers.

I could only listen and forgive so he could go to his grave one soul lighter, and hopefully, find Heaven after fearing Hell.

“I wish I could say it was an accident. I wish I could fabricate a tale of a ruined boy who made a terrible mistake. But I can’t.” He sucked in a rattling breath. “I can’t lie to you like I lied to myself for so many years. I willingly bought an unlicensed gun. I caught the train to his house. I knocked on his door. And I hit him over and over again for what he’d done to my mother, to my father, to me. And then...once he’d paid for his crimes, I shot him.”

No, no, no.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. Murder is never okay. And I don’t pretend to think I did the world a favour. But he was a killer, too, Stel. You have to believe me. His toll was much higher than mine. I couldn’t save the patients he’d destroyed, but I could save the families left behind. He can’t hurt another, and I’m willing to take that price with me.”

Don’t, don’t, don’t.

“I forgive you. I believe you’ve paid enough for your sins, Galloway.”

He kissed me with blazing lips. “Only you could trust me so blindly, Stel. Only you could overlook a prison sentence and corrupted past and see what’s good inside me.”

Please, please, please.

“You are only good, G. So, so, so good.”

“I love you, Estelle.”

“G...”

“Tell me you love me, too.”

I want to.

I do.

But something prevented me.

As if those three little words would be the defibrillator to stop his heart. As if he only clung to life to hear them. Was it wrong of me to want him to remain in pain so I never had to say goodbye?

Yes, it’s wrong.

Don’t let him go.

You love him.

Tell him.

He deserved to hear such a thing before leaving.

I sat up.

I stared into his eyes.

I parted my lips.

And then Pippa’s scream tore everything apart.

Chapter Sixty

...............................................

G A L L O W A Y

......

I HURT.

There was no other way to describe it.

I was dying.

There was no point denying it.

My fingers had become terrorists, my arm a prosecuting enemy, and my body a murderer.

I’d done this to another.

Now, my body did this to me.

I’m dying.

I didn’t know how I knew, but I did.

I was almost gone.

Trading blood and bone for phantom and wraith.

For days, I’d clung to strength, doing my best to fight against the ever-darkening shadow and heavy, heavy sickness. But now...now, I had nothing left, and somehow, I knew I had mere hours, maybe only minutes left.

Confessing to Estelle.

That had been my last spurt of energy.

I’d saved it.

I’d hoarded it.

Unwilling to waste my one chance at absolution.

I thought I’d be angrier. More terrified. More hurt that after so long of being unhappy, I had to leave so much sooner than I wanted.

And I was all of those things.

I hated leaving Estelle.

I hated letting her down.

I hated the thought of her staying on this island with no one to shoulder the burdens and hold her late at night.

There would be no voyage.

No returning to society.

Not for me, at least.

My time was up.

I hated that goodbye was such an ugly, ugly word, but I had no choice but to speak it.

Pippa’s scream came again, wrenching through our sad farewell.

Estelle’s leaking eyes flared with indecision, torn apart with love.

I tried to move, to seek Pippa and the reason for her anguish, but my body no longer obeyed my orders. It had a new master now. Death itself.

My racing heart (smoking with wear and tear from the infection), sprinted faster. “She’s in trouble. You have to go to her.”

Estelle gritted her teeth, her soul ruptured between Pippa’s scream and my imminent departure.

We wouldn’t be leaving together, after all.

But I would wait for her.

I would wait for eternity until I could kiss her again.

“Estelle...”

She sucked in a sob, anger mixing with her tears. “Don’t make me choose, Galloway. Do. Not. Make. Me. Choose.”

A seismic fissure cracked through my chest.

What an unfair situation to be in. Having to choose. Having to decide who deserved comfort when you yourself needed comfort most of all.

A heat wave resembling the surface of the sun roasted my already roasted body. “Go, baby. You have to.”

Baby.

I’d never been one to use nicknames. I hated all form of generic endearment that could be transferred to another. But in this instance, it worked. Because, this time, I’d transfused the simple word with all the magic of love.