Page 33 of Heartbreak Hill

Nadia lay in bed, mindlessly watching television and then aimlessly flipping the channel each time a commercial came on. She regretted the last channel change immediately when a local late-morning news show showed a picture of Rafe on the screen. Her heart sank at the sight of her husband, smiling and perfect. She should’ve kept scrolling, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen. And then she heard the words:The City of Boston plans to honor hero Rafe Karlsson, and the Commonwealth Cup is considering changing its name.

Nadia sat up. No one had called and asked her if she wanted this. If her children wanted this. She had a hard enough time grappling with Rafe being labeled a “hero,” and now he was going to be honored. With what, the key to the city? The last thing she wanted was to be reminded every year by the media that her husband had died. She didn’t want the girls growing up, year after year, hearing about how their father had died while running a road race. Nor did Nadia want Rafe to be the face of the annual event. She wanted to forget and go back to the last morning they’d spent in bed together and beg him not to go.

The thoughts made her sick to her stomach. She barely made it to the bathroom before she lost what little her stomach held. Her mother came in with her and held her hair back. Nadia sat on the floor andcried. There wasn’t anything anyone could do or say to change things, not now. Not ever.

“You need to eat,” Lorraine told her daughter. “You have to be strong for the girls, Nadia.”

“I don’t want to,” she sobbed. “I want my husband back.”

“I know, sweetie. Believe me, I know.”

But did she? Lorraine Bolton had married her high school sweetheart. They were happy with their three children and four grandchildren. They were doing exactly what Rafe and Nadia had planned—growing old together.

“You don’t know what it feels like.” She looked at her mom and put her fist over her heart. “It hurts so bad, and it feels like I can’t breathe.” To prove her point, her body shuddered and gasped for air. “He’s gone and ...” She couldn’t finish her sentence. Her husband was just gone.

Lorraine shook her head and cried with her daughter. “I know, honey. I’m so sorry.”

She finally let her mother help her off the floor. They went into the kitchen and then the formal dining room, where everyone was gathered at the table. Her and Rafe’s family were crammed next to one another, while the six kids sat at the kiddie table they used for Thanksgiving. As Nadia took in each one of them, her thoughts drifted to why all these people were in her house and where she was supposed to sit. The only open seat was where Rafe had sat last year, when they’d bought this monstrosity of a table so they could host both families at Thanksgiving. As a family, the four of them rarely ate dinner in the dining room, always opting for the dinette set in the kitchen. It was informal and yet had a feeling of intimacy because they were always so close.

“Hi, Mommy,” Lynnea said as she came over. Nadia picked her youngest up and held her. She spotted Gemma, in between her nephews. When Lincoln, the oldest, glanced in his aunt’s direction, the look on his face told her not to worry about her daughter. He would take care of her.

“She’s sucking her thumb again,” Cleo said as she patted her granddaughter on her back.

“Yep, and I’m going to let her do it. It brings her comfort.” Nadia hadn’t meant to come off angry at Cleo, but the last thing she needed or wanted was for someone to point out the obvious to her.

“I know, I was just—” Cleo shook her head and went to check on the other grandkids.

“She’s only trying to help,” Warren said as he walked by his daughter. “Come on, come sit. Have some pizza.”

He held a chair out for Nadia. She sat, moving Lynnea around to cradle her. She brushed her daughter’s hair out of her face and held her to her chest. “Did you eat?” Nadia asked her.

Lynnea shook her head.

“Here, let’s eat this together.” They shared a slice of pizza. It was all Nadia could stomach. When Cleo brought out a tray of brownies, Lynnea perked up. Nadia gave her one.

“These are yummy, Grandma,” Lynnea said as she stuffed the square into her mouth. Cleo’s eyes watered. Nadia stared and wondered what was going on in her mother-in-law’s mind. She’d lost her son, and as of late, her relationship with Nadia had been on rocky ground. They didn’t always see eye to eye on parenting, and Cleo often sided with Freya on things.

Last year, when Rafe and Nadia had wanted to host Thanksgiving, Freya had had issues with everything. The menu was an issue, even though it was the same thing Cleo always cooked at her house. The time they ate, which was an hour later than the year prior. But the one that sent Nadia over the edge was Freya’s insistence that her children sit at the main table with the adults and not at the kids’ table with the rest of the children. Rafe told his sister to grow up, but Cleo defended her daughter, saying Leif and Astrid didn’t know Lincoln and Jaxon that well and they’d be uncomfortable. Rafe suggested his sister stay home or go to Lars’s family for the holidays, and ever since, she’d noticeda strain among them. Cleo blamed Nadia, even though she wouldn’t come out and admit it.

She looked across the table and caught Freya staring at her. Nadia held her gaze for a moment and then returned her attention to her daughter. In the blink of an eye, everything had changed. If she’d thought the holidays were strained before, now they’d forever be altered. She could see Cleo and Otto coming over for the girls’ birthdays, but that was about it. Cleo or Freya would host Thanksgiving and Christmas, and Nadia wouldn’t be there. Neither would her girls. Their family would be even more fractured than it was before.

A knock on the door sounded. Otto went to answer and cheerfully welcomed Kiran Dunlap into the house. Nadia had mixed feelings when they made eye contact. He was Rafe’s best friend and should’ve been given the opportunity to say goodbye to him. Nadia had failed him and her husband. Kiran came toward her as tears filled her eyes. She choked on a sob and slid out from under Lynnea’s lap and moved hastily into the kitchen.

Nadia gripped the edge of the counter, heaving in deep breaths in an attempt to push the impending panic attack away.

“Nadia.” Kiran’s voice was soft and soothing when it shouldn’t have been. She didn’t deserve his kindness. Not now, and probably not ever. His hand touched her shoulder, and her knees buckled. Kiran caught her before she crumpled to the ground. She buried her face in his jacket, inhaling his clean, fresh scent. Nothing like Rafe’s spicy, musky cologne she loved so much.

Kiran wrapped his strong arms around Nadia and held her. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, vibrating against hers.

“I’m so sorry,” she muttered into his clothing. She repeated her sentiment until another wave of tears washed over her.

“Nadia,” he said softly. “I understand.”

Nadia took another big breath and then stepped out of his grasp, hiding her face from him as she wiped at the wetness on her cheeks. She was tired of crying. Tired of feeling shattered. Tired of it all.

“You shouldn’t,” she said as she looked out the kitchen window. “I should’ve called. Someone should’ve called you. You had a right to be there. To say goodbye to him. I took that away, and I don’t even have a valid excuse as to why.”

“I’m not angry, Nadia.”

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