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The sound of oxygen hissed in the tiny room.

“So basically we have two options here.” The doctor, a young man with curly hair and tired eyes, pulled a chair up next to her dad’s bed and propped his arms on his thighs, leaning forward to include both Gracie and her dad in the discussion.

“We put you on a ventilator and throw everything at you, including the kitchen sink, for the sole purpose of buying you whatever time we can, regardless of quality. Or...” He shifted in his seat, clasping his hands together. “We do not pursue any further aggressive forms of treatment, including dialysis, and instead focus on keeping you comfortable, knowing full well this will greatly reduce the quantity of time you have left.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Dad,” Gracie said, stepping closer to his bed and grabbing his hand. “Let’s think about this.”

“I don’t need to think.” He tugged the oxygen mask from his face and worked to catch his breath. “I’ve thought long enough. I’m done.”

“Okay, shh, okay.” Gracie slid the mask back over his nose and mouth. “I understand. You’re exhausted. I just thought—” Her voice hitched. She thought what? Her dad would live forever? They’d known this day was coming. “I just didn’t think it would be now. Tonight.”

Why did it have to be now? Tonight? When she felt completely alone.

Why did it always feel like she was completely alone?

“I need to call my sister. Call my nephew. We need to get everyone here. I’m not sure how quickly they can get here. I’ll tell them to hurry. My phone,” Gracie said, spinning in a circle. Where had she put her phone?

“It’s okay.” The doctor held up his hands. “Nothing needs to happen right this second. We’ve still got a little time.”

Gracie glanced at her dad, the way his shoulders lifted and dropped, using every last bit of reserve to move air in and out. Whatever time they had, it sure wasn’t much.

“Here’s what I think.” The doctor pressed his stethoscope to her dad’s lungs, listened to a few breaths on each side, then draped it back around his neck and focused all his attention on Buck. “I think we give you a little morphine to take the edge off. Keep you comfortable. Should help with your breathing.” He looked to Gracie. “In the meantime, you make whatever calls you need to make.”

Gracie nodded. “Morphine. Breathing. Calls. Got it.” Why was she acting like she had no idea what to do? She knew how this needed to play out. Get the family here. Let her dad go out with peace. With comfort. With—

“Can I watch the ball game?” her dad’s voice croaked out.

Anything but that.

The doctor laughed. “Of course. Man after my own heart.”

Before Gracie could stop him, the doctor grabbed the call light and switched on the TV mounted to the wall, finding the game in two clicks. “Oh good. Haven’t thrown out the first pitch yet. Mind if I watch for a minute?”

“Pull up a chair,” her dad, treacherous man that he was, told the doctor. And the doctor, treacherous man that he was, did as her dad suggested.

Unbelievable. “I’m going to go make those calls. You know, the calls to let everyone know you’re dying .”

Neither man acknowledged her. Just as well. She didn’t need either of them witnessing her reaction the moment her eyes landed on Noah.

A tsunami couldn’t have bowled her over as much as the wave of emotions crashing into her at the mere sight of him. She couldn’t look away. The camera lingered on a close-up of his face, capturing every bit of warrior in his eyes. The determination. The focus.

The man she’d talked to a short while ago on the phone had sounded like a normal guy. This man standing on the pitcher’s mound didn’t look like that guy. No, this Noah was ready for battle. This Noah wasn’t taking any prisoners. This Noah was a hero.

And yet, she could still see it. This guy was also just plain old Noah Parker, Gracie’s fella. The guy she should’ve clung to with all her might and never pushed away.

“Oh, Noah,” she whispered.

“Ma’am?” the doctor said.

“Huh?” Gracie swiped the moisture that had gathered on her cheeks. Both the doctor and her dad were staring at her.

“Something wrong?” the doctor asked, then immediately winced. “Right. Stupid question.” He stood and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “Your dad’s in good hands. I promise. We’re going to do everything we can to—”

“She’s married to the pitcher,” her dad interrupted. “That’s why she’s crying.” He gave a weak laugh that led into several coughs.

“You’re married to Noah Parker?” The doctor’s eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas. “No way! That is so cool. Wait—what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at the—oh, right. Of course.” Two red splotches flooded his cheeks. He cleared his throat and patted her shoulder again. “How about I find a nurse to bring in that morphine?”

“Thank you,” she mumbled as the doctor rushed past the curtain and she moved over to help her dad readjust his oxygen mask.

His coughing spell subsided just as a commercial break started. “You need anything before I step out?” Gracie asked.

“New body?”

“I was thinking more along the line of some ice chips.”

He held her gaze. Patted the space next to him. “Stay. Watch the game with me.”

“I can’t.”

“You’d deny a dying man his last wish?”

A commercial for chicken wings filled the screen. Why couldn’t his last wish be a bucket of those? “I need to call Mona. Tell her what’s going on.”

“Call her from right here.”

Before she could come up with a good excuse, the announcers were back on the screen, surrounded by a flood of noise. “What a night for a ball game,” one of the announcers said as the camera swooped over the stadium with an aerial view. “Game Seven. Seattle and St. Louis. Listen to those fans.”

Gracie’s legs shook. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Racing from the room, she darted down the closest stairwell, out of the hospital, and didn’t stop rushing until she’d crossed the entire parking lot and a black metal fence blocked her from going any further.

Too much. She clung to the rails and gasped for air. This whole thing was too much. Dad. The game. The hospital. Noah.

She dug her phone from her purse and tried calling Mona. When the call went to voicemail, Gracie hung up and tried again. Then again.

“Where are you?” Gracie yelled after the fourth attempt went to Mona’s voicemail again. She sent three back-to-back text messages to CALL ME! then reached for the fence rails. Tried slowing her breathing. Tried pushing down the panic.

“God, I can’t do this,” she whimpered. “I need someone.” Where was her sister? Where was anybody? “I can’t keep doing this. Not by myself.”

I never said you had to.

“What?” Gracie twisted. Who’d said that?

She peered across the dark parking lot, not seeing anyone beneath the pale splotches of security lighting. A motorcycle backfired and rumbled down the street a block over. Otherwise, silence. Until her phone pinged with a message.

Mona: What’s wrong?

Finally! Gracie texted back. Call me!

Gracie stood still and waited for her sister to call. Another text pinged through.

Mona: Can’t. What’s wrong?

“What’s wrong is I need my sister to call me,” Gracie muttered, texting furiously. Dad’s dying! CALL ME!

Nothing came through for several seconds. Not even the little bubble dots to show her sister was responding. Finally, after a good three minutes, Mona called. “Is Dad okay?”

“When does the word dying ever mean that someone is okay? It means they’re dying ! And where are you? I can barely hear you.”

“Sorry. I’m trying to find a quiet spot. How bad is he?”

“What part of the word dying don’t you understand?” Gracie forced herself to take a breath. “Sorry. I’m sort of freaking out right now. He doesn’t want anything more to be done. He just wants to be made comfortable.” Gracie snorted a half-laugh, half-sob. “And watch the stupid ball game, of course.”

“Gracie...”

“Seriously. Where are you? It is so loud.”

“Gracie...”

“Why do you keep saying my name like that? Like you’ve got something to hide? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were at the—” Gracie’s breath whooshed out of her. “No. You are not there.”

“I didn’t want to upset you.”

“You. Are. Not. There.”

“Noah was able to get us tickets. He figured you wouldn’t want one. I’m here with Matt and Rachel and um... well, Gus. We’ve sort of been seeing each other.”

“Gus? You’re dating a boy from the firehouse?”

“He’s not a boy, he’s a man, thank you. And hey, that’s not the point.”

That wasn’t the point. “I can’t believe you guys are all at the game.”

“We never said anything since we know how much you hate baseball. Plus we had no idea Noah would be pitching tonight. Can you believe Noah is pitching? Did you know? Gracie, say something.”

“What am I supposed to say? What am I supposed to say to Dad? Sorry, Dad. Nobody can make it. They’re all at a baseball game. Go ahead and die. Better luck next time.”

“No, you’ll tell him we’ll get there as soon as we can. You’ll tell him we love him. Then you’ll tell him if he’s ready to go...” Her voice broke. “It’s okay to go.”

“How can you say that?”

“Honey, he’s been dying for the past year. You don’t think we’ve said our goodbyes to him by now? We’re at peace. Don’t worry about us. You just get back to his room and find yours before it’s too late.”

“Mona?”

“Yeah?”

Gracie looked to the dark clouds in the sky, unable to stop herself from asking. “How’s he doing?”

Her sister didn’t have to ask who she meant. “So far? Amazing.”

Tears leaked down Gracie’s face. “I’m glad. I really want him to finish well.”

“I think that’s all any of us can ever hope for.”