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When my phone rings a little after one in the morning, I’m still awake even though I know I need to go to bed. I’ve been catching up on some trash TV I’ve missed out on over the last few weeks, and my chest tightens when I see Cooper’s name on the screen.

Is he calling to talk about what I said earlier?

A dart of nervousness pings my stomach.

“Hey you,” I answer, trying not to sound guarded.

I hear a sniffle on the other end of the line, but no words accompany it.

“Cooper?” I ask, sitting up in bed.

He clears his throat.

“What’s going on?” A sense of alarm pinches my heart. Is this it for us? He can’t take being with someone who doesn’t want kids tomorrow, and he’s calling to break it off with me over the phone?

He wouldn’t do it over the phone. He’s not that kind of guy.

He doesn’t answer, and the sense of alarm turns from a pinch into a cold, icy grip.

“Cooper, baby, talk to me,” I beg.

He lets out a shaky breath before he says, “My mom just called to let me know my brother was having symptoms of a heart attack tonight.”

“Oh my God, Cooper. I’m so sorry. How’s he doing?” The relief that pings through me that this isn’t about me or us is replaced by a different sort of panic.

“I, uh, I don’t know yet. I’m not sure. My mom was on her way to his house to watch my nephews so Marissa could be with him. I haven’t heard anything from her in the last hour.”

“Where are you now?” I ask.

“On my way to the airport in Boston. I guess I’ve been in action mode since I heard from her and when I heard your voice pick up the call, I got a little emotional.” His voice is quiet, like he’s trying not to let whoever’s driving him listen in on his conversation.

“Oh, baby,” I murmur, my heart breaking for him at the same time his words fill my bucket all the way to the top that we’re close enough that he can trust me to hold onto his emotions. “What can I do? Do you want me to come meet you in Chicago?”

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Of course that’s what I want, but we’re keeping up this fucking charade so that’s not an option.”

“If you need me there, we blow our cover. I don’t care. Nothing matters right now except you.”

“Christ, Gabby.” He sounds like he’s getting choked up again. “That means so much to me.” He inhales a long breath before he exhales. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I just keep thinking about this time we were kids and I fell off my bike and scraped my leg. My knee was bleeding and we were a few blocks from home. My brother legit picked me up and carried me on his back the entire way home. Like how did we get to the point where he’s old enough to have a heart attack after that’s what we lost our dad to? I can’t lose him, Gabby. I’m not ready to lose him.”

He unloads everything he’s been carrying onto me, and I take all the weight I can to help lighten his load. “You’re not losing him, Cooper,” I say firmly. “You’re not.”

“Okay,” he whispers, and my heart breaks at the pure fear in his tone. “I’ll be a better brother, I swear. If he just makes it…” He trails off, and I know he’s in the bargaining phase. I don’t know what it’s like to have a sibling, but I do know what it’s like to lose people I’m close to. I was never all that close with my mother, but my grandmother was a saint. She got sick when I was eleven, and I remember the bargaining phase. The quiet prayers where we tell God that we’ll do whatever it takes to keep the person we love around.

It didn’t work for my grandma, but that doesn’t mean it won’t work for Cooper.

“You’re a good brother,” I say softly. “You’re leaving a business trip to be with him. You’re dropping everything to support him and his family.”

“It’s not enough,” he says, and I can hear the way he’s beating himself up. “I haven’t talked to him in over a month.”

“So you’ll call him more. You’ll send funny memes to make him laugh.”

“Yeah, for the first few weeks, and then what? We’ll slip back into old habits. Life moves on, but I can’t watch life move on without him. He’s only four years younger than my dad was when he died. What if I’m next, Gabby?” In his last question, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“You take care of yourself. You’re an athlete. You work out. You’re in shape. Was your dad that way? Is your brother that way?” I ask.

“I don’t know about Connor. He’s got a high-pressure career and he’s been traveling a lot, which makes me wonder whether he’s been hitting fast food and not taking care of himself. That was my dad’s downfall. He was an electrician, and he ate garbage food for lunch every day, and eventually it clogged enough arteries that it took him from us way too early.”

“I’m so sorry, Cooper. Maybe this is the wake-up call your brother needs to take better care of himself,” I suggest.

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s the wake-up call I need.” He leaves his sentence at that, and it feels ominous.

I don’t like it.

“I’m almost at the airport, so I need to go.” His tone is flat. Emotionless after all the emotion he’s shared with me during this call, and I don’t know what to do to get him back. To hold him close. To keep him in my arms where he belongs.

“Call me any time you need me, okay?”

“Yeah.” His single, grunt-like word comes out flat.

“I love you,” I say.

“You too.” He ends the call, and even though he expressed the feeling, I’m worried what this could mean for the two of us.

He called me and unleashed his emotions on me. That has to be a good thing…right?

Except then he clammed up, and he’s miles and miles away, and I have no way of making sure we’re still on the same page.

I look up flights. I don’t even know where he is, but I could be in Chicago in a few hours.

I think about just showing up, but he’s the one who said I shouldn’t. I don’t want to step on any toes. I don’t want to walk on the wrong side of the imaginary line we’ve drawn.

But I want to be with him.

I want to hold his hand through this—and not just this, but through everything.