Page 2 of The Meaning Of You (Fisher & Church #1)

CHAPTER ONE

18 months later

Nick

The automatic doors slid open, and I grinned at the red-faced receptionist/day-shift manager/superhero in a neon green dress who almost spilled her ginormous mug of coffee, trying to hide the tabloid magazine she’d been reading.

When she saw it was me, Jerry huffed. “Jesus, Nick, warn a girl next time.”

“Jerry, Jerry, Jerry.” I side-eyed the wide shock of platinum blond hair that graced the woman’s pitch-black bangs. That was new. “This is the main entrance. You want me to knock or something?”

“Smart-arse.” She grabbed a paper towel and began dabbing at the splashes of coffee that now adorned her dress.

I took a bow. “At your service. But my lips are sealed, you know that. This place wouldn’t run if it weren’t for all that caffeine you pour into your system like lolly water, not to mention no one, and I repeat no one knows what goes on in this place better than you. I ain’t about to rock the boat, and if anyone gives you a hard time, they’ll have me to answer to.”

And I meant it. If it hadn’t been for Jerry, I wasn’t sure I’d have made it through the last year. She’d had my back from day one. No question too small. No hour too late to call. No temper tantrum too much. No depression too deep for her to reach down a hand and simply hold on. She’d been my angel through it all, the highs and the lows, but especially the lows, since, to be fair, I couldn’t remember any highs and I loved her to bits.

Jerry returned the magazine to her desk. “You smooth talker you.” She grabbed her mug of coffee and walked across to plant a kiss on my cheek. “If you weren’t gay as a daffodil, I’d be tempted to bend you over my desk and have my wicked way with you.”

I barked out a laugh. “Is it weird that I almost want to turn straight just to see how that plays out? And also, a Freddy Mercury quote? I’m impressed.”

Jerry clipped me up the back of my head. “Yes, to the first question, super weird. As for the second, my mother was a huge Freddy fan. I cut my musical teeth on ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’”

I chuckled, not about to enquire how old Jerry actually was because I preferred my balls remained exactly where they were. I was guessing late forties—but I wouldn’t have bet on it. According to Jerry herself, she’d lived a colourful life. The small amount of information I had managed to glean about her past included a generous amount of travel, an equally generous number of drugs back in the day, and two never-to-be-named husbands who she’d kicked to the kerb in proceedings that lacked a significant amount of detail. Enough said.

“I’m still older and therefore wiser than you,” I solemnly replied.

“Oh, honey—” She looked me up and down with a wicked glint in her eye. “—my last husband was your age when I got rid of his sorry arse just like that.” She clicked her fingers. “You’re definitely a lightweight in comparison.”

I opted for the safety of silence. Refer to above note about incidents lacking in detail.

Jerry continued. “That man was a demon in the bedroom which was all fine and dandy in the beginning. But there wasn’t much going on between the ears, if you catch my drift. A woman can’t live on orgasms alone.”

I almost choked, wishing I could rewind the last few seconds so I could purge those images from my brain. “I... guess not,” I finally sputtered, my cheeks blowing hot—something very few people had managed to accomplish.

Jerry smirked and patted my hand. “Don’t be shocked. The majority of people under forty already think people over forty don’t have sex. Our job is to remind them that they’re wrong in as many embarrassing ways as possible.”

The light-hearted comment made me blink. It had been so long since I’d had sex, had another body in my bed, or even allowed myself to think about that side of me that I was lost for a response.

“Shit.” Jerry took both my hands in hers. “That was unthinking. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I lied, because it wasn’t her fault. “It’s still hard, I suppose. I can’t... won’t ... well, you know. We made a promise to each other.”

“I know.” She drew me into a hug before I could stop her, bending me almost in two to match her sparrow-like frame. “It’s shitty. I get it.”

My eyes misted at the warm feel of her arms, and before I knew it, my hands were sliding around her tiny waist. A sigh escaped my lips. It had been a long time since I’d been hugged like that. My own fault, of course. I didn’t invite people into my space, didn’t need it, didn’t want it.

Not that I had to worry too much. My irritable personality kept most people at a distance, exactly where I wanted them. Hugs meant compassion, and I feared the tenderness might break me wide open. Eviscerate me in a way that couldn’t be fixed. At the same time, I craved exactly that, the evisceration part. It would at least offer an excuse to end this charade and get the fuck out of Dodge, but you didn’t hear it from me.

Jerry patted my back and stepped away, her shrewd gaze missing nothing, least of all the damp sheen to my cheeks. But she said nothing, which only highlighted the champ that she was.

“So, my age is in his file, huh?” I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my jacket.

“ Everything is in his file.” She offered a warm smile. “You know that.”

I sighed. “Do I even ask how he is? If there’s been any change?”

“Since yesterday?” She shook her head, her eyes heavy with sympathy. “No. Not since yesterday.”

Or last week. Or last month. Or eighteen fucking months ago.

“He has that niggling chesty cough, but it’s no worse,” she continued. “Doc Paul saw him today.”

My heart dropped. “Oh god, he didn’t chart any?—”

“No,” she reassured me. “He didn’t. And he won’t. It was just his usual monthly visit. He did mention they might convene another round table discussion in a couple of months if there’s no change. See what the options are.”

Relief rushed through me. “Oh, that’s good news. He can’t go on and on like this. I’m not sure any of us can.”

Jerry patted my arm. “Go on in. Lizzie is with him.”

I glanced toward the hall. “Maybe I should wait.”

Jerry threw me a wry smile. “Coward. She loves you like you were her son, not son-in-law. She’s always talking about you. About you both.”

I continued to stare up the hall. Loving me wasn’t the problem. Lizzie had always loved me. She’d become a mother to me, in many ways more my mother than the one who’d walked out on me as a kid and left me with him. But the guilt I carried after every time Lizzie and I talked was getting harder, not easier, to bear.

Jerry elbowed me gently. “You know there’s this newfangled thing called talking about stuff. It might help. She doesn’t blame you, Nick. She never has.”

I stared into those sweet eyes. “Maybe she should.”

The doors behind me whooshed open and a man walked into reception, wearing faded but impeccably pressed jeans—the centre crease sharp as a razor blade—a white button-down shirt, black loafers, and a coat thrown neatly over one arm. With his nose buried in a book, the guy almost ran straight into me, looking up at the last minute.

“Shit, sorry,” he quickly apologised. “I was, ah—” He held the leather-bound book up and blushed prettily. “—distracted.” He shrugged and gave a wry smile. “Nothing new there.”

When I didn’t respond, the man’s blush deepened. He threw a questioning glance at Jerry who promptly cleared her throat and elbowed me again in the ribs, but I was too captivated by those beautiful green eyes to manage any kind of reply.

“That’s perfectly all right, Madigan.” Jerry filled the silence and the man visibly relaxed.

Madigan. It was a name I’d never heard before. I’d also never seen this particular man in the eighteen months I’d been coming here, which was kind of a miracle since I visited most days. So while Jerry answered a couple of Madigan’s questions about someone named Shirley—another name I didn’t recognise—I studied him more closely.

He was my age, mid-fifties or thereabouts, and... not to put too fine a point on it, he was hot. I knew that from the surge of guilt that roared through me for even noticing. It wasn’t in any sleek silver-fox, GQ, do-you-like-my-Rolex kind of way. But in that nerdy, still-waters-run-deep, and would-you-please-put-your-glasses-on-before-we-get-into-bed kind of way. Way, way better.

His greying hair was combed neatly back from his face, unlike my unruly silvering blond mop that refused any and all attempts at discipline, and a dense silvery stubble graced his jawline, the tips glinting almost gold in the late afternoon sun that flooded the room. He was shorter than me by a few centimetres, leaner too. But it was his eyes that held my attention, bright summer green and sharp as a blade when they landed on mine. I’d always been a sucker for intellect, a highly underrated sexual turn-on, in my humble opinion, and I’d bet my bottom dollar this guy had it in spades.

“Earth to Nick?” Jerry didn’t bother to hide her amusement.

“Sorry.” I grinned ruefully. “It’s clearly a day for distractions.”

Madigan gave a soft snort.

“I was introducing —” Jerry paused for drama’s sake. “—Madigan Church. Madigan’s Aunt Shirley was transferred here yesterday. Madigan, this joker is Nick Fisher. You’ll probably run into him more often than you’d like since he’s a regular visitor. My advice is to try and ignore him like the rest of us do. He goes away... eventually.”

Madigan laughed and the warm, low sound of it filled the room and brought a smile to my lips. It was something else missing from my life. Laughter. Humour. Hell, even a few more smiles wouldn’t have gone amiss. Switching from the police forensic accounting unit in favour of working from home had meant I could spend more time with Davis, but I’d lost the distraction of colleagues and the sound of laughter in my day. I needed to fix that.

Madigan proffered his hand, his grip cool and firm. “Pleasure to meet you, Nick.”

“And you,” I returned. “Madigan’s an unusual name.”

He grinned. “Unusual parents.” He released my hand and took a step back.

I flicked my head toward Jerry. “You’ll get used to this clown. She’s an acquired taste but she grows on you after a while.”

“Like mould,” Jerry added and we all laughed. “Yeah, yeah, funny guy. Now get going.” She gave me a gentle shove. “I’m tired of you already.”

I caught Madigan’s eye. “Like I said, an acquired taste.”

Madigan smiled warmly, those green eyes dancing. “Duly noted.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Madigan. Enjoy your visit.”

He held my gaze. “You too.”

Not a chance in hell . I gave Jerry a quick smile and made my escape.

The door to Davis’s room was closed. I knocked, but Lizzie must’ve been dozing because her head snapped up in surprise when I walked in. She looked younger than her seventy-six years, short grey hair cut in a choppy modern style that framed soft blue eyes, and cheekbones that still looked like they could cut glass.

There was so much of her in Davis that some days I could barely look at her without wanting to cry. A tiny, slight-framed woman, she looked as if the slightest breath of wind would send her flying, but she was the strongest woman I knew. You underestimated Lizzie Minton at your peril.

When she saw it was me, Lizzie smiled and left her spot beside her son’s bed to greet me with a brief kiss. She rarely pushed for a hug, even though I knew she would’ve loved it. Of Lizzie’s two sons, Davis had always been the demonstrative one, hugs and kisses coming as easily to him as all those words in his books. It must’ve been a huge loss for her, just as it had been for me.

Davis’s casual affection had taken years, not months, to unlock a part of me I hadn’t known existed—a warm, caring side dormant beneath the cold, cynical man everyone was familiar with. My friends, few as they were, had been shocked. But no one had been more surprised than me.

Funny how life runs in circles. That more recently discovered gentler side had perished in the crash along with Davis’s brain. My friends were more wary of me than they’d ever been, and if I cared about anything beyond my aching grief, I might’ve regretted that backward slide.

Davis would’ve hated it. Then again, Davis wasn’t there.

Lizzie sandwiched my face in her hands and said, “You’re too thin, Nick. If you won’t come for dinner, then at least let me drop off some meals to put a little meat on those bones.”

She offered almost every time I saw her, and every time I let it go. She sighed defeatedly and returned to her chair by the bed.

I made for the chair on the other side. “You don’t need to look after me, Lizzie.” I reached for Davis’s flaccid hand. “I can cook for myself. I’m fine.”

She raised a brow and I snorted.

“Okay, maybe not fine, as such,” I admitted. “Then again, I could say the same about you. You’re at least two sizes down on last year. Don’t think I’m not aware of that.”

She winced. “Fair enough. But don’t try and tell me you can cook, Nick Fisher. We both know Davis was the only chef in your house by a long shot.”

“Hey,” I protested, adding a smile. “I can cook. Just last week I made lasagna. And very nice it was too.”

She huffed in disgust. “You mean you reheated lasagna that you bought from that fancy-pants food place you boys like to waste your money at.”

In present tense. Like Davis and I still did that every Saturday. Like I wouldn’t give my right arm to do it again. That chasm of loss carved deeper into my heart.

“Damn. I’m sorry,” Lizzie amended. “I never know whether to speak of him in past tense or present. I look at him lying there and see my little boy or the man standing next to you at your wedding. But it’s not really true, I know that. He’s a shell now and it kills me, Nick. It kills me. He would hate this.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek and I had no words to offer. An ocean of guilt waiting and all I had to do was jump. Because Lizzie was right. Davis would hate this. What’s more, he’d be so disappointed I’d let it go on as long as I had. We’d talked many times about what we wanted to happen if either one of us ended up like this. Davis had been clear. He’d made a living will. No heroic efforts for him. He wanted to be let go.

I reached across Davis’s legs and squeezed Lizzie’s hand. “He thought the world of you, Lizzie.” Past tense that time, and Lizzie shot me a look that said everything about the gut-wrenching trap we lived every day. “Just like I do,” I added.

Her eyes softened and she returned the squeeze. “Thank you.”

Davis grunted, drawing my attention to his face, but it was just a grunt like they all were. The sight of him lying there still ripped the air from my lungs as it always did. The man I’d loved, still loved, did love, was in love with—who the hell knew what the right words were? My beautiful Davis, his mind and soul locked in a useless body that if there were truly a merciful God, would’ve given up its hold on him eighteen months before.

A quiet knock broke the awkward silence and a male nurse entered the room. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to change Davis’s enteral nutrition.” Tobin held up a bag that plugged into Davis’s nasogastric tube. All the nurses were good at Golden Oaks, but Tobin was one of the friendlier ones. He’d only been working there for six months but I found myself liking the guy, a surprise in itself. Maybe because he always went the extra mile whenever I wanted something adjusted in Davis’s care. Maybe because he always took the time to stop and chat. Whatever it was, I had a soft spot for the guy.

“You go ahead.” I stood and pushed my chair back so Tobin could reach the IV. “How’s your mum?” I asked, knowing his mother had recently undergone surgery to remove her gallbladder.

He grinned. “She’s complaining about nearly everything again, so I guess that means she’s almost back to normal. We drive each other nuts but I love her to bits.”

I chuckled. “Enjoy it. Not everyone’s so lucky.”

Tobin finished hanging the new bag, then laid a gentle hand on Davis’s shoulder. The gesture sent something flopping in my belly. It was the weirdest thing, knowing that in many ways, the staff were more familiar with Davis’s body now than I was.

“He’s been a bit chesty this last week but we’re working on it.” Tobin adjusted Davis’s pillow. “We’ve upped his fluids to loosen things up and it seems to be helping. We’ll have to wait and see.”

I shot Lizzie a look, which she returned. These once simple treatment decisions had become fraught with complicated feelings. “I hear the doc saw him today?”

Tobin nodded. “Nothing new. Just the fluids thing. Anyway, I better crack on. See you next time, Nick.” He turned to look at Lizzie. “You’re looking lovely today, by the way.”

Lizzie blushed and waved him off. “Get away with you.”

When the door closed, Lizzie caught my eye. “We’ve been lucky with the staff.”

“I know.” I glanced toward the door. “You hear horror stories, right?”

She sighed. “You do, but I knew you’d do your due diligence and then some.” She arched a brow. “You love him far too much to risk anything less than the best care.”

Present tense again.

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I simply retook my seat.

Lizzie eyed me from across the bed. “I don’t know if I ever told you this, but Davis once told me that he’d never loved anyone as much as he loved you. Didn’t think it was even possible.”

Pain sliced through my chest, and I closed my eyes for a few seconds just to absorb her words. They meant everything to my starving heart, especially since Davis had been married before and was still friends with his ex-wife Maggie.

“I feel the same,” I whispered, taking Davis’s hand once again. “He was a goddammed miracle.”

I brushed a lank lock of hair from those beautiful sightless eyes. They didn’t always stare at the wall. Sometimes they moved. Sometimes they even seemed to track me across the room. In the early days, that had given me hope, but I now knew those Jedi mind tricks for what they were. Knew how their lies ate at that hope until it was nothing but an empty prayer, worth less than the breath that carried it.

Because the unremitting truth was that Davis hadn’t voluntarily or consciously moved a muscle since the day of the accident. The broken leg and cracked ribs had healed quickly. The massive head injury hadn’t.

One month in the ICU in an induced coma and more scans than I’d known were possible, we’d maintained hope regardless of the sombre faces of the medical team. An induced coma meant no wakefulness and no awareness. It came with the territory. You couldn’t judge anything by that. The following month had been the real test. Davis remained on life support, but they pulled back the drugs and let him come around .

That’s when we knew.

Davis ‘woke’ but his awareness never returned. Zero cognitive function. The lights came on but there was no one home. At the end of an exhaustive run of tests, endless discussions with various medical teams, and more boxes to tick than I’d ever believed possible, the decision was made to take him off life support and simply see what happened. Because his brain stem appeared relatively intact, it was expected he might breathe on his own. But there was also a chance he wouldn’t or that it wouldn’t last long. If that happened, no heroic actions were to be taken.

It was the hardest decision I’d ever made, but we did it as a family, his mother and brother included. It was the right thing to do. It was what Davis would have wanted. But little did we know that removing life support and watching Davis die wasn’t even close to the worst outcome.

This —I studied Davis’s beautiful slack face— this was the worst possible outcome and I’d never seen it coming. This was the ‘life’ Davis categorically didn’t want to have.

Eighteen months since the accident and he’d never regained awareness. Medical opinion was, he never would. It was an existence Davis didn’t deserve. An endless nightmare of... nothing. Trapped in a living purgatory where his relatively healthy body was his worst enemy.

Life in its barest form.

Davis breathed. He shit. He pissed. He slept. He grunted, which we’d quickly learned meant nothing. And he had reflexes, not all, but some, enough to catch you out if you didn’t understand what you were seeing. He was fed via a nasogastric tube, a catheter drained his bladder, and he shit like clockwork most mornings.

But that beautiful, complex, creative brain remained switched off. He didn’t laugh or cry or smile or think or love. He was slowly wasting away, his soul waiting until the scales tipped and his body couldn’t fight any longer. Waiting for that one big infection to finally take him, to set him free. Because Davis wasn’t living. Certainly not the way he’d define it. No thought. No higher responses. Nothing. Zero. Zip. Nada.

They called it a persistent vegetative state.

I called it a living fucking hell.

And I couldn’t do anything about it except wait and watch him slowly waste away.

I’d failed him, and for that, I could never forgive myself.

So how Lizzie or Samuel could forgive me, I’d never know.

Lizzie gave a weighty sigh and reached into her bag for a Kleenex. “You’d think I wouldn’t have any tears left.” She dabbed at her eyes, then began slowly shredding the tissue.

“Preaching to the choir, here.” I managed a weak smile. “Last weekend I decided to wash some of his clothes, freshen them up.” Lizzie considered me with a sympathetic smile, and I snorted. “Yeah, crazy, right?”

“No, not crazy.” She blew out a long sigh. “Hope can be crippling and stubbornly insistent.”

And paralysing. “I only got one load done when I found his favourite T-shirt in the pile,” I continued. “The one that says, Bisexual and I’m still not into you .”

Lizzie laughed. “He did love that one.”

I chuckled. “Yeah. He wore it every Pride. I cried for a solid twenty minutes and then threw everything back in the closet, unwashed, and closed the door.”

She studied me for a moment. “It’s okay to get overwhelmed. It’s okay to not be okay.”

I didn’t reply, glancing at Davis instead. I hadn’t been okay for eighteen months. None of us had.

Lizzie pushed her chair back and reached for her coat. “I’m gonna head off and give you some time.” She circled the bed and I stood to kiss her cheek. She cupped my face in one hand and brushed her thumb along my cheekbone. “Come for dinner next weekend. I miss you.”

I swallowed around the lump in my throat and promised.

She looked at me and sighed.

We both knew I was lying.

“Take care, son.” She turned to leave.

At the last minute, I remembered Jerry’s advice and reached for Lizzie’s arm. “Can I just say something?”

She paused and gave me a quizzical look. “Anything.”

“I should never have made that reservation, Lizzie,” I confessed, my voice choking. “Davis was consumed by his research like he always was, and I knew damn well he’d probably forget or be late. I don’t know why I did it. I’ve even wondered if I wanted him to be late so I’d have an excuse for an argument. I’ve thought about that a lot. I’m such an arsehole. It’s something I’d do. I could’ve made the reservation for eight when traffic was easier, but no, I had to make it at the worst time.”

Lizzie’s eyes brimmed and filled with pain. “Nick, don’t?—”

“What if I was testing him, Lizzie?” I insisted. “What if I wanted to see if he could put me first for once but all it did was put him under more pressure. That’s why he was speeding.”

I love you. Please forgive me.

I almost choked on the memory as I pushed on. “Davis was trying not to disappoint me, and if only I hadn’t been such an arsehole about it, he would’ve been more careful. He would’ve taken that corner a lot slower. Jesus, Lizzie, why was he even on that road? It’s in the middle of nowhere. I was so mad at him that morning, I never bothered to ask what he was doing that day. If only?—”

“Stop it!” Lizzie eyed me with a barely contained fury that shocked the hell out of me. “Just stop it.” Softer, and she let out a sigh. “You don’t get to carry all the guilt for that day, you know. I ripped into him that morning, as well. I never told you he called me when he left, did I?”

My mouth dropped open. “What?”

Lizzie leaned back against the closed door. “Davis was upset that he’d forgotten your anniversary, and I really laid into him about being a selfish prick. Said he was lucky you’d hung around as long as you had.”

“Me?” I raised a brow and she winced.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I never told you about the call because I feel so guilty that those were our last words. But, Nick, neither of us were in the car that day. Davis could’ve called and said he’d be late and taken his time. He could’ve made a ton of different decisions, but he didn’t. He chose to drive dangerously on a narrow country road, and here we are. You aren’t responsible, Nick. Neither am I. We have to understand that.”

My lips twitched. “Yeah, and how’s that working for you?”

She sighed and shook her head. “We’re a right pair, aren’t we?”

I reached for her hands. “It’s not just that day though, is it?” I cast a sideways glance to where Davis still lay staring at the wall. “I hate seeing him like this and I hate that I can’t do anything to change it.” I stumbled over the words. “I’m a coward and I know I’m letting him down. I’m sorry.”

Tears flooded my cheeks, and Lizzie immediately shushed me and drew me into her arms, holding me as I cried. “You think you’re the only one who wishes they were braver?”

I pulled up in shock.

She sniffed. “What? You’re not the only one who feels they’re disappointing Davis. You think I haven’t spent the last year berating myself for not finding a way to make this nightmare end?” She glanced at Davis. “But then I realised something.” She looked back at me and smiled. “I realised he’d understand. Just like you would, Nick. Don’t beat yourself up. When you and he talked about these sorts of scenarios and made those living wills all those years ago, no one could’ve foreseen this. It’s never as simple as we think.”

Gratitude swept through my heart and for a few precious seconds, the world lifted from my shoulders. I thanked her the best way I knew how. “Jerry mentioned they might convene another conference about him soon. Make some decisions.”

Lizzie’s eyes closed and a relieved sigh escaped her lips. “Sweet Jesus, I hope so.” She squeezed my hand, then gave me her red woollen coat to hold while she slipped it on. Buttoning it, she added, “Don’t stay too long. It’s going to be cold tonight.”

I watched her leave, then circled the bed to the other chair so I could better see Davis’s face. I took his warm hand in mine and brought the back of it to my lips. “What a fucking mess we’ve landed ourselves in.” I stroked his cheek. “God, you’re still so beautiful. How did I ever manage to pull you? Punching well above my weight, obviously.”

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his. Then I rested my cheek against his face and wished we were tucked up in our bed. That the last eighteen months had never happened. That he would spoon me from behind as I slept and keep me safe.

“I’m sorry for what I said that day,” I whispered in his ear. “I’m sorry for all of it. For acting like a kid having a tantrum. For not accepting you as you were. For wanting to change you. For not just leaving our anniversary dinner until the weekend. I can’t change any of it, but I am sorry.”

I startled as Davis’s shoulders lurched with a cough and phlegm rattled in his throat. But when I pulled back and looked at his face, his eyes remained fixed on the wall. I sighed and leaned back in my seat, turning his left forearm so I could kiss the tattoo on the underside of his wrist. I had one in the exact same place. Mine said Will you? , and his said Yes .

“I’m here for you, sweetheart, as long as it takes.” I kissed the inked letters again. “But you don’t need to stick around just to make sure I’m okay. I’m a bit of a mess, I know, but I’ll survive, I promise. I want you to be at peace and I’m okay with how that looks for you. The ball is in your court. If it means staying as you are for a while longer, then I’m here for that. If it means leaving, then I’m okay with that too. But maybe stop fighting if that’s what you really want. You’re too strong for your own good.”

Another cough and it was easy to read into that. The mind grabs whatever safe ground it can.

“I love you, Davis. You’re the best man I’ve ever known, and I promise I’ll try and live up to what you taught me.”

I held his hand a moment longer, then I stood and kissed him lightly on the lips and pulled the comforter over his pale, thin shoulders. I watched him breathe in and out for too long to be healthy, watched his eyes slowly close and his body sag. Then I left the room with the door open so staff could see him as they passed.

Feeling too wound-up to drive home, I bypassed reception and headed for the peace of the courtyard garden.