He pressed his lips into a thin line. “No. I don’t need it.”
Not anymore.
She gave a quick nod, biting her bottom lip as she smoothed her palm over the daisy pin at her temple, then dropped her gaze to the check-in screen.
She blinked once, licking her lips before she nodded. “Okay. No problem.”
The door behind her opened, and Derek stepped out with his phone pressed to his ear. His expression was calm, and he nodded at Darian. “I’ll be there in twenty. Yes. Of course.” He ended the call and tucked the phone into his pocket. His gaze landed on Sadie.
He didn’t speak but simply reached out and pulled Sadie against his side. She melted under the touch, and the pinched line between her brows smoothed.
Moses appeared at Darian’s side with the suitcase in hand, ready to walk him to his room. Unable to look at his friend and her Daddy for much longer, Darian turned and followed along.
Moses led the way down the long hallway, shoes whispering over the rug, suitcase wheels humming behind him. The further they walked, the quieter it got. Just soft lighting, distant birdsong, and the subtle buzz of his own pulse pounding in his ears.
His room was on the inner curve of the U-shaped building. Moses opened the door and stepped aside.
Darian crossed the threshold and stopped.
Sunlight streamed through the sliding glass doors, warming the wooden floor like it remembered him. The bed stood tall and wide, its sheets tucked crisp and neat, inviting in a way that made his chest ache. To the left sat a padded armchair positioned beside an electric fireplace, both framed by soft lighting. On the right, a compact kitchenette waited, with a row of neatly arranged mugs hanging above the coffee pot, everything clean and perfectly in place.
And straight ahead, just past the glass, a hot tub bubbled behind a privacy screen, steam curling upward like a quiet invitation.
It was everything he’d asked for. Exactly how he remembered it.
Too much and not enough, all at once.
Danny didn’t move for a full minute. His hand rested on the doorknob. His chest rose and fell in short, uneven breaths.
Then he stepped forward. First one foot and then the other.
He set the keycard on the nightstand. Sat down on the edge of the bed.
And felt the weight of everything he’d been holding insistently press down.
They’d never made it back that fall. Or the one after.
The shoulder pain that had sent Wilbert home early hadn’t been from a pulled muscle. It was the first whisper of something worse. Something that didn’t get better.
Stage four. Lung. Spread to his bones. Then the lymph system. No cure. Just pain management.
Danny had put on his adult hat and marched them both to the hospital. He held the clipboard while Wilbert got scans. He made the appointments. Drove him home. Tucked him into bed.
He bathed him when the tremors started.
He changed the sheets when they couldn’t make it to the bathroom.
He stopped ordering plushies and started ordering morphine.
And he did it gladly. Fiercely.
Because that’s what a good boy does.
But the price was steep.
The day Wilbert stopped smiling was the day Darian covered everything in the nursery with sheets and closed the door without looking back.
Three months later, it was over.
