Greya's POV...

Four weeks later...

The five stages of grief will live with me forever — that I'm certain of.

Lately, I've resorted to pessimism. Maybe if I stop looking for the good, it'll never be ripped from me again. I won't survive another loss like this. I'm not surviving now.

I'm barely carrying on — for the sole purpose of my brother.
It's been four weeks since a part of me died. It's almost Christmas, but none of us feel like celebrating. Chase hasn't even written a wish list. We're trying, though — we'll get a tree, put a few gifts beneath it, and pretend for his sake.

So far, all we've been told is that Jack Reeves shot his sons, then turned the gun on himself. But none of it makes sense. Jack never hurt Alec before. The stories Becker told me don't line up with the police report.

We need answers — even if they can't bring them back.

The sadness has consumed our days and nights, but still, here we are: me, Chase, Cohen, Declan, Ari, and Fynn. Standing together in front of Becker and Alec Reeves' tombstone.

We're honoring them the only way we can. There was no wake, no funeral, no family to say goodbye. Just the six of us. It makes everything feel unreal, like they could still walk through the door any moment.

Our school held a vigil, and the soccer teams shared a moment of silence before the last games of the season. That's all. They deserved so much more. They deserved protection. They deserved love — not the monsters they were born to.

Where was their mother? What part did she play? Jack said he was bringing her home. What happened to that? The police won't tell us much, and it's killing me not knowing what Becker went through in his final moments.

Was he protecting Alec? Was he scared and alone? Did he know I loved him — that I still love him? Because I do. I always will. Becker was my first, and he'll be my last. My heart can't bear to love anyone else.

The boys' team hasn't been the same without him. For the first time in four years, they didn't make it to playoffs. Cohen and Declan can't focus; they've lost their brother.

We're family though — all six of us — and somehow, we're still here for each other.

Chase lays the first rose on their graves. He's the bravest kid I know.

It took me three days to find the strength to tell him why Becker and Alec never came back that weekend. When I finally did, he locked himself in his room until Ari and Fynn coaxed him out. He cried in my arms for days after that.

Now he stands here beside me, small and strong, whispering a little prayer over the flowers. His whole world's been flipped again, and somehow he's the one showing us how to stand upright.

I kneel beside him, holding his hand, silently saying my own prayer. One by one, the others join in, our hands connected over the cold ground — united in loss, promising not to let go of each other.

None of us care where Jack Reeves was buried. His soul can rot in the fires of hell.

"Can I visit Mom and Dad and Grams?" Chase asks softly.

"Sure, little man. I'll take you," Fynn says, his voice rough.

"I'll go too," Declan adds, and Ari nods beside him.

Cohen stays back with me. Becker was his brother in every way that mattered. He's lost family, and I've lost the person I chose to love. Neither of us will ever be the same.

"How do you do it, Grey?" Cohen asks after a long silence.

"How do you wake up every morning, take care of Chase, go to school, play soccer... How do you still care about everyone when you've lost so much?"

I wish I had an answer. I pull him into a hug — because we both need one.

"I don't know," I whisper. "I just know Becker would've wanted me to keep living. To try. He'd want that for you too."

I don't believe my own words yet, but maybe someday I will. Right now, I'm still fighting the five stages — denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance — though none ever truly leave. Maybe one day I'll conquer them. Maybe.

Fynn drives us home afterward. The car is silent. No one speaks Becker's or Alec's names; we're all still caught in denial. Mentioning them might send us spiraling into anger or guilt, and I don't have the strength for that yet.

"I want to move," Chase says suddenly when we pull into the driveway.

Fynn and I turn to look at him. He's serious.

"I want to move away from this place — far away. Now."

I climb into the back seat and take his hand. "Why do you want to leave, Chase?" I ask gently, though I already know.

"Because everything bad happens here. Everyone dies. If we move away, maybe it won't happen again."

I pull him into my arms and stroke his hair. "I know, buddy. But a lot of good happened here too — with Mom and Dad and Grams. And you still have me, Fynn, Ari, Cohen, and Declan."

"But I'm starting to forget them," he says quietly. "Mom and Dad... and soon Alec and Becker too. I'm too sad here, and so are you."

"You're right," I whisper. "I am sad. But we can't move just yet. Fynn and I have to graduate first. Then we can go anywhere you want. Can you wait a little longer?"

He nods, his eyes full of determination and loss far too deep for his age. "When you graduate, we'll go to L.A. I want to go to a real school. I want to start over — with you and Fynn. Near UCLA."

A small, broken smile pulls at my lips. "That sounds like a good plan, little man," I tell him. "A new life... that sounds really good right now."