It’s like I’ve been staring at the same damn puzzle for months. I’ve put every piece in its place except one. The full picture’s right in front of me. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t finish it—because the piece that makes it matter has been missing.
Her.
She’s the missing piece.
I’ll never be complete without her.
And right now—her arms around me, her face buried in my chest—I start to believe we might actually survive this.
That maybe… she’ll come back home.
She finally pulls away, and Megan steps in, quick to fill the silence. “Matt and I are gonna grab a bite to eat. Why don’t you two head down to the cafeteria, grab some food and talk.”
Alley’s eyes flick to mine, and she offers a small smile. “Okay.”
Just one word—but it hits like a drum in my chest.
She agreed to have dinner with me.
In a hospital cafeteria, sure, but still…
She wants to talk.
Twenty minutes later,I’m sitting in a booth across from my favorite person.
The walk down was mostly quiet. Athanks for comingfrom her. Ayou’re welcomeandI want to be here for youfrom me. A few side glances from her in the hallway. And I couldn’t take my eyes off her in the elevator.
I haven’t heard from her since she rushed out of mediation, which makes me think she probably hasn’t read the letter. At least—fuck, I hope that’s why. Because if she has, and still didn’t reach out… I don’t know if anything I do will ever be enough.
I didn’t even plan on giving it to her. I shoved it in my pocket that morning as a last resort. If it came down to signing the papers—if I felt desperate enough, like there was nothing else I could do or say—then maybe I’d hand it over.
But I panicked. Gave it to her without thinking. It’s the one from my last week in rehab. The final letter I ever wrote.
Is it desperate? Yeah. But I’d been clean and clear-headed for fourteen weeks. It’s honest.
I glance down at the roasted chicken on my tray, guaranteed to be dry. They offered a side of gravy, but I held it.
Across from me, Alley stares at her food. She looks exhausted. Still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on, but there’s something hollow in her cheeks, something fragile about the way she moves. Like she hasn’t eaten or slept in days. She’s lost weight, too. Not in a purposeful way, but in the way stress wears you down, like she’s had so much on her mind she forgot to take care of herself.
She looks up, eyes roaming over me, lingering. Her gaze drops to my hands, then to her own as she reaches for her spoon.
No ring.
Shit.My stomach knots, but I stay focused on her face.
“Tell me about your dad,” I say gently. “What’s going on?”
She picks up her spoon, poking at her mashed potatoes. “He has cirrhosis of the liver.” She pauses. “You know… from all the drinking.”
I don’t know much about that, only that it’s not good. I expect her to say more, but she doesn’t.
“Shit. I’m sorry. Can you explain it to me? Not like a nurse, just… for a regular person. Is he going to be okay?”
“His liver’s not working like it should,” she says quietly. “It’s not processing toxins, so they’ve got him on fluids and meds to help clear the ammonia out of his system. He’s jaundiced, his stomach’s swollen…” Her voice trails off as she sets the spoon down, still full of potato.
“Yesterday he was confused. He didn’t know where he was or why.” She finally meets my eyes. “That means the toxins reached the brain.” She takes a deep breath. “He’ll probably be here a couple weeks, maybe longer. It depends how he responds to treatment. It’s one of those things where only time will tell.” Her voice drops even quieter. “He could stabilize and be okay for a while. It could flare up again. This could go on for years… Or he could be gone tomorrow.”
She swallows hard.“He most likely wouldn’t qualify for a transplant if he gets worse. Not after all the drinking. And even if he did—it’s a long list.” I just…” Her voice breaks. “I can’t lose another person I love.”
