Page 153 of Until August

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Armed with a travel mug of coffee, I flicked off the headlights and leaned back, getting comfortable. My eyes never strayed from her window.

No idea why I was parked in front of her house in the middle of the night.

Or what I thought I’d accomplish by keeping a silent vigil.

But here I was.

Watching over her from afar. Wishing that every damn thing could have been different.

I wished she didn’t have to go through something so painful.

I wished that I’d never let her go.

And then had to remind myself that she’d never really been mine.

But like a fool, I was still waiting. Wishing. Hoping.

Love is a funny thing. It doesn’t disappear just because the person isn’t in your life anymore.

If the heart is a muscle, mine was getting a grueling workout.

Because I swear to God, it was still beating for her.

CHAPTERFIFTY-FOUR

Nicola

I staredat my bedroom ceiling, contemplating love and loss and this crazy thing called life. Which led me to think about death. The finality of it. The part I’d played in helping Cruz to die.

A thought had prodded the back of my mind ever since the night he passed away. Now it pushed to the forefront.

I’d left Dylan alone with Cruz forone hour. Was it a coincidence that he’d died on Dylan’s watch?

Cruz’s heart was strong. And it wasn’t that I wanted to prolong his misery. Quite the opposite. It had been a long, grueling week of waiting and agonizing. But the doctor had explicitly told me it could take up to two weeks, so I found it strange that Cruz had gone so suddenly.

I snatched up my phone without checking the time and turned it on. Ignoring all the missed messages, I swiped my thumb over the screen and held the phone to my ear.

Dylan answered on the second ring. “You good?”

Was I good? Not even close. But I ignored his question and asked one of my own. “What really happened, Dylan? Did he just… how did it happen?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “The same way it’s going to happen for all of us. His heart stopped beating.”

I wished I could see his face, but with Dylan, I doubt it would have helped. His face rarely gave anything away. “Just like that.”

“Just like that. It was quick and painless. Just the way we all wanted it to be for him.”

Just the way we all wanted it to be for him. I was silent for a few moments, processing his words. And that was when I really suspected that he’d helped his friend die. “Dylan—”

He cut me off. “Stop questioning everything, Nic. It was his time. Simple as that.”

Did I believe him? No.

Did I blame him? I wasn’t sure.

On the one hand, I’d been cheated out of spending Cruz’s final moments with him.