“No,” she whispered again, more to herself than the nurse. “You don’t get it; he was right here.”
She tried to pull herself up when a doctor entered the room. He quietly pulled the nurse into the corridor and reappeared a moment later alone. She searched for his lanyard before her eyes drifted back to his face, there was something about him, something strangely familiar she couldn’t quite piece together or put into words.
“Daisy,” he said, crossing the room. “It’s been a while.” He moved to her right side of the bed and took a seat. “You might not remember me,” he continued, “but I remember you.”
She blinked hard, and it slowly came flooding back. The night at the bar when Logan had introduced her to his friends, the night he’d held her in the bathroom, he was there.
“It’s Tad,” he said, almost as if he’d read her thoughts. “Logan’s—” He paused, staring at her, and it wasn’t until she caught his gaze that she realised his eyes were filled with tears.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” she whispered.
It took him a long while to respond and when he did, all he could do was nod, unable to look at her any longer.
“No. He…” Her words cut off and she closed her eyes for a moment, hoping when she reopened them she’d be back in her hotel room. But when she blinked them open again, she was still there, and Tad had buried his hands into his face, rocking his body back and forth in silent devastation.
“Tad,” she continued. He glanced across at her, his eyes red and jaw tight. She brought a hand to her face, sliding it across her mouth as she took a deep breath. “Can…can I see him?”
Daisy wasn’t sure why she asked. Maybe it was to make it feel real. Maybe it was to convince herself it wasn't an elaborate plot to ensure she moved on. But Tad agreed, and when he put her into a wheelchair and began wheeling her down to the morgue, reality started to sink in.
In her lifetime, Daisy had only seen her mother at rest, and it looked as if she’d simply fallen into a deep sleep. Logan was much the same.
Tad insisted they keep his body covered from the neck up to hide the horrific extent of his injuries, but miraculously, his face had remained as perfect as it’d always been.
“It was fast,” Tad said quietly. “He didn’t suffer.
She dipped her chin, unsure of how to answer such a statement. Then she reached out to touch him, slow and cautious, as though afraid to disturb him. Her fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, then slid gently back to his lips, cool and still beneath her touch.
Time slowed, and for a while, there was nothing but the quiet mulling of the refrigeration and her own shallow breaths. Her thumb ran along the line of his mouth again, and for a moment, she let herself believe he might wake up, that maybe this really was just another dream, and she’d wake up back in a bed with him beside her.
But he didn’t move.
And finally, Daisy let herself cry.
Epilogue
DAISY
Daisy wheeled the chair slowly into the sun-drenched courtyard, the soft sound of the wheels rolling over the cobblestones echoing in the still afternoon, and Callan made a noise, one she’d come to learn as joy, as a pair of butterflies flew straight past them.
She paused beneath the old magnolia tree where petals scattered across the ground in the breeze, and smiled. Years had passed since the accident. Several long, winding years had filled the space of her life, each year more promising than the last.
Callan, once trapped in the prison of his own body, had begun to reclaim pieces of himself. First, it was a flicker in his fingers, then the tremble of a smile that hinted at recognition. Thedoctors had called it improbable, even miraculous. His memory, once thought to be gone forever, had begun to stitch itself back together in the past five years.
She stayed with him, eventually becoming his full-time caregiver when his mother's health declined. And much to her surprise, it wasn’t the death sentence some had painted it to be.
Still, as time passed and age began to take hold, she never forgot him. She would see him everywhere, in strangers, and every time she heardLandslideon the radio, he was right there with her. It wasn’t until Ida started school though, that she really noticed it—the finch.
It first appeared on a rainy Easter weekend, perching on the windowsill as though waiting for her, and from that day forward, it never left. In her loneliest moments, when despair crept in uninvited, the finch would appear, perched on the garden fence, watching her with bright, beaded eyes that carried an uncanny intelligence. It always seemed to know when she needed someone, and as the years passed, a quiet suspicion took root in her heart. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was him.
In life, some say you’re granted three true loves, the kind that etch themselves into the fabric of your being and change everything. Logan was, and always would be, one of those loves for her. They may never have shared the intimacy of tangled sheets or whispered late-night confessions, but their bond ran deeper than that. It had been instantaneous, a kind of knowing few ever experience and even fewer truly feel.
But it didn’t matter anymore. He’d given her something that no one else could: clarity. Through him, she’d come to understand that staying with Callan had never been about duty or obligation. It wasn’t just the morally right thing to do; it was the path life had chosen long before fate had its say.
The finch fluttered down from the tree and landed on the arm of the wheelchair. Daisy watched it for a long moment, her smile tinged with sorrow and peace.
“Hello again,” she whispered, inhaling a sharp breath. "I still miss you."
And for a fleeting heartbeat, it felt like the past and present folded into one, and a lone tear slid down her cheek.
