Page 98 of Heartbreak Hill

“My girls love him,” she continued. “Lynnea, she’s struggled a lot since Rafe died. My dad and Reuben have been there a lot for the girls, but it’s not the same. Then Grayson shows up a couple of weeks ago, and my angry little girl who lost her father has light in her eyes again. I try to warn her, to tell her he’s got his own life, but she tells me he reminds her of Rafe. Gemma says the same thing. And then I see it:the way Lynnea sits with Grayson, always pressing herself up against his chest, and I wonder.”

Reid was at a loss. She had no idea what to say or if she should say something at all. Was it her place?

No, it wasn’t.

“I think you should talk to Grayson.”

“I’m afraid,” Nadia told her. “I’m scared to know if what I think is true.”

Reid reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Let’s go back to the house.”

Nadia nodded and told the girls it was time to go home. The drive back should’ve been silent, but Lynnea and Gemma sang along to the radio, with Reid and Nadia following them. As she turned toward the back and sang with the girls, Reid surmised that if someone had told her yesterday that this was where she’d be, she would’ve laughed. She didn’t want this—not for Grayson, for herself, or for this family—but there they were, weaving lives together in the most chaotic and yet beautiful way possible.

When they got home, they found the men hammering away on the porch. Nadia paused, looked at Grayson and Kiran, and asked them to meet her in the dining room. Grayson eyed Reid, who nodded, hoping that was enough to tell him Nadia had her own suspicions.

The three of them went into the dining room, while Nadia got the girls situated with a movie in the catchall room. She returned with a folder, set it down on the table, and then took a seat.

“On April eighth, my husband set out to run a ten-mile road race from Heartbreak Hill to Harvard Square. Something he’d done for years. Last year, he was determined to win. It would take him fifty minutes from start to finish. Blocks away from the finish, a car somehow made it through the crowd after losing its brakes. There was a runner who wore those big over-the-ear headphones and didn’t hear the honking. Rafe pushed her out of the way, but he was unable to get himself to safety.

“When I was waiting for him at the finish line, I heard the screaming and the horn honking but didn’t think anything of it until I saw the ambulance blocking everyone’s view. I knew my husband was there. I could see his location. So, I went there, but I couldn’t find him. One spectator said the man in the ambulance wasn’t going to make it. I watched on my phone as my husband’s blue dot moved farther and farther away from me. Deep down, I knew the spectator was talking about Rafe, but I didn’t want to believe it.

“One of the police officers drove me to the hospital, where reality set in. Unfortunately, Rafe was brain dead and put on life support until they could notify next of kin. My Rafe, my strong, healthy husband, was gone. He died a hero. In more ways than one. I made the decision to donate his organs.” Nadia opened the folder. She kept her eyes on the paper.

“I asked that the people who received Rafe’s organs were people who had something to live for, someone who took care of themselves, and weren’t someone taking an organ from someone who truly needed it. I wanted whoever it was to receive this gift from my husband to be someone who could thrive.” Nadia picked up a piece of paper and cleared her throat. “On April ninth, my husband’s organs, some tissues, and blood stem cells were harvested. On or around April ninth, my husband’s heart was transplanted into a viable male.” Nadia read the rest of the donations Rafe had made. When she finished, she set the paper down.

Reid reached for Grayson’s hand. He squeezed it.

“In the early hours of April tenth, I had a heart transplant,” Grayson said quietly. “A month prior, I’d collapsed after a basketball game.” He looked at Reid. “We were leaving the gym, and she’d given me some news I didn’t care for. She saved my life by being there. I was in bad shape. My heart had quit. Time had essentially run out.”

Grayson looked at Nadia. “A year later, I started feeling this ache. It’s a feeling I can’t describe. I tell my cardiologist, we run all these tests, do the scans, and everything comes back clean. I tell my therapist, whotells me I might be experiencing cellular memory. Of course, very few people believe in this. Reid and I discussed it, and she encouraged me to reach out to UNOS. But before I can do that, I come across this documentary on transplants and things people have experienced. It got me thinking, and I started doing a deep dive. I’m reading obituaries from people in my area, and nothing seems to be fitting. I expanded my search, and that’s when I saw an article about your parents losing their son-in-law.”

He adjusted in his seat and cleared his throat.

“The timeline fit. I began to wonder, ya know, all while praying the ache would stop because I feared something was wrong with me. That’s when I asked my friend Pearce to come to Boston with me, because I had this ridiculous hunch, and waiting for UNOS, not knowing if the family of my donor would even want to meet me, could take a year. I thought if I saw you, I’d get my answer. I did.”

Nadia met his gaze.

“The ache stayed until I heard the girls. The relief was instant, and then I saw them, and everything changed. The ache turned into something I can only describe as pure happiness. Elation. Love. And then sadness. It hurt me to sit there and talk to you while the girls were in the yard. That’s why I had to go sit with them. I needed to be in their space, to feel their presence. They calmed me,” he told her. “They made me feel complete in a way I can’t explain.”

Grayson put his fist over his heart as tears streamed from his eyes. “I am deeply and truly sorry I wasn’t honest about why I came here the first time. I wasn’t sure how to say ‘Hey, I think I have your dead husband’s heart’ without making things sound outlandish.”

“Do you still believe you have Rafe’s heart?” Nadia asked.

Grayson nodded.

“After you left, the girls told me you reminded them of their father. I didn’t see it, as you’re nothing alike. And then the other night, when Lynnea called you, she said something that made me wonder but still didn’t make sense. She said you smelled like Rafe—and you don’t. Iwould know because I smell his cologne every day. I see her with you, clinging to you like you’re a life source for her. It doesn’t matter how you’re sitting: when she sits with you, her ear is pressed to your chest. It’s like she knows, and logically that doesn’t make any sense.”

“What if you don’t have his heart?” Kiran asked.

“There’s always that possibility,” Reid said. “But that doesn’t explain why Grayson has bonded with the girls so quickly. For me, when I found out about Nadia being his ex, I thought for sure I’d be the one losing Grayson, but he doesn’t feel anything for her, other than friendship. If he did, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Kiran looked at Grayson and then Nadia. He shook his head, making Reid wonder what was going through his mind. A door opened, and the four adults sat up straighter. The patter of feet came down the hall and into the dining room.

It was as if she knew.

Lynnea went to Grayson and crawled onto his lap. She held his head between her tiny hands. “Why are you sad?”

“I’m not,” he told her.

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