I squeeze my eyes shut and take two long deep breaths as shards of guilt, pain, and self-disgust dig deeper into me with each hammering beat of my heart.

I did this. This is my fault. My choice pushed her over the edge.

When I open my eyes, I look out at the ocean and focus on the deep blue of the waves lapping against the sea wall.

But I find no comfort there. Blue House has been robbed of the peace it usually provides.

“I’m so sorry, Lincoln. So damn sorry. I never should have—”

Whitney starts again, but this time I wrap my arms around her and yank her against my body to cut off her words. I hold her tight, rocking us both back and forth as I let the news sink in.

My mother is gone.

My mother’s last wish was to keep Whitney and me apart, and she made her final stand in a way that no one could have predicted. We’ve always thought it was theatrics and manipulation. Her health was the card she played to keep us in line, but there was never a real threat to her life—or so we’d believed.

I never thought . . .

I draw in breath after breath, but this feels completely surreal. Like a joke Harrison is playing because he’s pissed at me. But even he wouldn’t lie about this.

My mother is gone.

I shake my head as I silently flay myself. I’m so sorry, Mother. Sorry I couldn’t be the son you needed. Sorry you didn’t get the life you wanted. Sorry that I couldn’t help you find a way to let go of the past and your bitterness.

I pull back and look down at Whitney. “I can’t apologize for loving you. I won’t.” I blink twice as moisture gathers at the corners of my eyes.

“But—”

“You can use this as a reason to push me away, and I’ll understand, but the place I need you right now is at my side. Can you do that for me?”

Whitney’s teeth drag across her lower lip and apprehension creases her expression. For a few long moments, I expect her to tell me she can’t do this. Can’t face what has just happened. But she continues to amaze me.

“Whatever you need, Lincoln, I’m here.”

I squeeze her tighter against me, letting my grief batter me. It’s more savage and unpredictable than the waves rolling in, and I know it will last for years, if not forever. My father’s death changed the course of my life and how I lived it. Only time will tell how my mother’s passing will change things.

As much as I wish I could hide away from the world and pretend this didn’t happen, that’s not possible.

I thread my fingers through Whitney’s and curl our hands into a solid fist. “We have to go back.”

She nods. “I know.”

“Then we go back together.”

“Only if that’s what you want,” she says.