“Hi.” I swallow hard. “Ben wants pancakes this morning. He seems… better, maybe?”
Silence.
“Oh, Emmy,” Nicole murmurs. “You remember what I told you?”
I’m shaking my head. “But this is good – he’s so talkative this morning, and his brother is here, and he just looks soalive…,”
My voice trails off.
I know what this is.
“Terminal lucidity,” I whisper. That’s what Nicole called it, when she described it to me. “The surge. It’s nearly time, isn’t it?”
Nicole hesitates. “There’s never a set timeline, sweetheart. But… maybe, yes. That can be a sign.”
I stare blankly at the door to the store. “What do I do?”
“Make the pancakes, Emmy,” Nicole says gently. “Get back as quickly as you can and enjoy this time with him. Listen to him. Talk to him.”
Because it doesn’t last.
And after—
“I have to go,” I say numbly. “Can you… could you come later? Just to check on him? He didn’t want his medication this morning.”
It’s only Wednesday.
It feels like a betrayal, to bring a hospice visit forward.
I’m barely aware of what I’m buying before I’m racing back, taking the stairs two at a time with the brown paper bag gripped in my hands.
I can hear laughter. Stopping on the other side of the door, I press my ear against it.
Listening to Ben laugh.
I pull up the neck of my sweatshirt and use it to wipe my face before I go in. They both turn to look at me, and I pause, taken aback. “You really do look alike.”
I didn’t see it at first. But Jared’s face is lit up with amusement, both of their heads tilted toward each other.
“The Bennett boys.” Ben’s smile still has the ability to take my breath away. He winks at me. “Careful, Emmy. Jared’s a heartbreaker. You should hear him on the guitar.”
“I’m not surprised.” I mutter the words as I duck into the kitchen. “He’s a lethal fucking weapon.”
“Need a hand?”
Jared looks amused when I swivel, my mouth opening. I didn’t realize he’d followed. “Uh… no. Stay with Ben.”
He pauses, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve been crying.”
Shit.
Spinning, I start unpacking the bags. “I’m fine. Please, go back in. Stay with him.”
“Tell me.”
His hand brushes my elbow before he pulls it back. “Please, Em- Emilia.”
He stutters over my name.
