Chapter Thirty-Three

Spring had arrived and it was a beautiful, sunny day, but for Arrin it might as well have been the deepest, darkest day of winter, for he had to tell Tracine and Meara it was more than time for him to move on. He sat on the couch watching Meara play with her dolls on the floor, listened to Tracine singing in the kitchen, and hated himself for not having the courage to leave months ago, before they’d all become so attached to each other.

Tracine breezed into the living room, but stopped singing when she saw Arrin sitting there steeped in despair. “What’s wrong, dear?” She sat beside him and brushed a lock of his dark, curly hair off his forehead.

“I have a bad headache,” he said, which, after all, was true, if not the reason fo...

Please subscribe to keep reading.