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I blink, trying to understand, trying to hold myself together.

Reaching for my hand, he squeezes it gently. “I don’t want to leave you, but…” He lets out a soft breath, the barest ghost of a smile touching his lips. “I’ve got a date I need to get to.”

A single tear slips down his cheek. He doesn’t wipe it away.

“I finally get to see my girls again. And God knows I’ve missed them.”

The air leaves my lungs in a quiet sob, but I nod because, as much as it hurts, I know it’s true.

He’s not leaving us.

He’s going home.

“Love you, kid,” he murmurs. “You know that, right?”

I bite down on my bottom lip to stop it from trembling. “I know. I love you, too.”

His breath shudders. “I would’ve been scared last year, but now you’ve got people looking out for you. Loving you.”

My throat burns when I think of Wes, of Rosie, of Sunday mornings, pink hoodies, and coffee left waiting for me on the counter.

He knew.

He always knew.

I try to speak, but a nurse steps in to check his IV before replacing a bag. Once she’s done, his eyes are closed again.

My tears fall and drip onto the sheets. “Please don’t go.”

I’m not ready.

I don’t think I ever will be.

∞∞∞

The night crawls forward like it’s trying to punish me. Every tick of the clock is a taunt. It’s the kind of slow that makes your skin itch. The kind that pulls grief tighter and tighter across your chest until it’s hard to sit still in your own body.

The hallway outside gets louder as the sky begins to pale, nurses’ sneakers squeaking on tile, voices rising in that cheer reserved for early morning shifts. My phone buzzes twice, maybe three times. My brothers, probably. Maybe Dad. I don’t check. I can’t. I’m too locked into the rhythm of Grandpa’s shallow breathing. It’s erratic now, like his lungs can’t quite remember the steps.

They say it’s “just a matter of time.” Like that makes it easier, or putting it in clinical terms might dull the blade.

Eli and Theo arrive first, shoulders hunched, eyes red-rimmed and blown wide with disbelief. They don’t ask questions. They don’t speak much at all. They just squeeze my arms, then sit on either side of the bed and take turns whispering into Grandpa’s ear.

Tess comes next with Dad on her heels. The second she sees me, she folds into my arms like she’s been holding it together just long enough to get here.

Dad is quiet. Rigid. All edges and silence. He hovers in the corner like he’s still trying to figure out how to take up space without demanding attention.

Everyone takes turns holding Grandpa’s hand, sayinggoodbye. I love you. I’m here.

The air thickens with it, a suffocating grief that presses in until I want to crawl out of my skin.

At some point, I’m on my own again. I think everyone else is getting some air, but I don’t dare move.

The room is so still, it feels like the world is holdingits breath. I take the moment to close my eyes and rest my head on Grandpa’s hand. The first tear stings. I hardly feel the ones that follow.

Then something warm brushes my cheek, and I startle, eyes snapping open.

Wes is crouched beside me, his fingers swiping away my tears.