“Can we see her now?” Brock asked.
Shadows filled the doctor’s eyes and his jaw was set. Whatever he was going to say next, it wouldn’t be good.
“I’m sorry.” He held Brock’s gaze, glanced in Aidan’s direction. “We tried everything we could to save her…”
Suddenly, nothing was making sense anymore. All sound was garbled and disembodied, and it was as though Brock had been plunged below the surface of a freezing cold lake. He couldn’t understand what the doctor was saying. He couldn’t understand what was happening. It’s like he was drowning. Frozen in thedark. The words were muddled and harsh to his ears, but a few broken ones clicked into place.
“Heart.”
“No pain.”
“Passed in her sleep.”
Brock couldn’t process what was said. He thought his father was speaking to the doctor, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.
“Brock?” Juliette cupped his face with both of her hands, and he focused on the frosty blue of her eyes. They welled with unshed tears and sympathy. “Brock, listen to me.”
He blinked.
“We’ll get through this together, okay?” Her lips pressed the softest kiss to the corner of his mouth. Then she turned to Aidan. “Anders will need to know, so I’m going to make some phone calls. Just tell him I’ll take care of everything so he can focus on what matters, okay?”
“Of course.” His father nodded. “Thank you, Juliette.”
Her silvery blue gaze was laced with worry, and she pulled Brock close to her. “If you need me, I’m here. I’ll always—I’m right here.”
For a brief moment, he thought she meant to say something more. He knew what he wanted to hear, but his mind was too out of focus to respond. He watched her walk away from him with her phone pressed to her ear. She headed down the opposite hall, toward the exit, and he was left standing there, empty and numb. Until Aidan wrapped an arm around his shoulder and guided him down another brightly lit corridor.
They followed the doctor, but Brock couldn’t help but notice the mood in this area of the hospital was different. Every nurse they passed looked at them with mirrored sympathetic expressions, each one with sad eyes and downturned smiles, the kind meant to offer silent condolences. A heaviness hung in theair. It lingered like death. They came to a stop in front of a room where blue curtains were drawn and static beeps echoed in the eerie stillness.
Aidan entered the room first, quietly, urging Brock to follow.
Everything felt hollow. Lifeless.
Grief tugged at Brock’s heart, and the pain was one he hadn’t felt since his last deployment, since his first brush with death. Not even his grandfather’s passing, though crushing in its own way, had caused him such turmoil.
Slowly, Brock peered around the corner, and the second he saw her, a knot of emotion lodged in the back of his throat. He knew it was cliché to think it, but she actually did look like she was sleeping. Except her chest failed to rise and fall, and all the tubes and wires hooked up to her led to a blank screen where a heartbeat was no longer detected. Her eyes were closed, and her hair fell like snow around the pillow, but her lips were gray. He imagined she’d be furious about such a thing.
“Kelly, get me my best red lipstick. I can’t believe they let me lay here like this. I look like I’m dead.”
The corner of his mouth ticked up, but hearing her voice in his mind, and knowing he’d never be able to hear her laugh or call him Kelly again, brought on another rush of inexplicable pain. It stole his breath, and his chest ached.
His father took up one side of the bed, and Brock went to the other. He captured her small, frail hand in his. Her wrinkled skin was baby soft, and he brushed a kiss across her knuckles.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” he blurted out. They didn’t sound real. Nothing about this was real.
“It’s okay.” His father’s voice sounded strange. It was gentle. Comforting.
Brock glanced up to see his father’s eyes were red-rimmed, and the sheen of tears threatened to spill. He looked hastily away.
“We can take as much time as you need.” Aidan leaned over and gently kissed Yaya’s forehead.
It was as though time had been stolen.
There was still so much Brock wanted to ask Yaya, still so much he wanted to show her. She’d never be able to see the beach house in all its glory. She’d never get to meet her great-grandchildren, assuming Brock was able to give her a few. She’d never know he was going to do what she asked of him and finally try to make things right.
Brock stared at his father until Aidan finally looked up, unspoken questions in his eyes.
“Yaya told me I needed to ask you about something,” Brock said, his voice unusually coarse.
