Because no matter how long the distance lasts, I already know, she’s under my skin now. There’s no undoing it.
When she disappears into the bedroom to pack, I linger in the doorway, watching her fold her clothes into neat piles.
“You don’t have to rush.” I fold my arms over my chest.
She glances up at me and smiles, soft and sad. “If I don’t go now, I won’t.”
That truth hits hard. My chest tightens as she zips her bag and looks around, scanning the room like she’s memorizing it.
I take the bag from her before she can lift it, setting it by the door. “You know, I want to go with you.”
She shakes her head. “You need to be with Alec and Bas.”
I hate that she’s right.
Outside, the air is sharp and still, the kind of morning that carries the faint promise of fall. The sun is barely above the trees, casting gold across the hood of her car.
She turns to face me, her eyes bright despite the heaviness between us. “I’ll text when I get home.”
I nod, but words feel useless. Instead, I pull her into my arms, holding her as tight as I can without crushing her. She wraps her arms around my waist, her cheek against my chest, and for a long time neither of us moves.
“This doesn’t get easier,” I murmur against her hair.
“I know.” Her voice is quiet, but steady. “But we’ll figure it out. You always do.”
I smile faintly at that, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You make it sound like I’ve got it all together.”
She tilts her chin up, meeting my gaze. “You don’t have to. That’s what I’m here for.”
And just like that, she breaks me all over again.
I kiss her once, deep and slow, trying to say all the things I can’t. When we finally pull apart, her eyes glisten.
“Go.” My smile is gentle. “Before I make you stay.”
She nods, biting her lip, then slides into her car. I stand there as she drives away, watching until her taillights vanish down the road. The silence that follows is unbearable.
Back inside, the house is bleak even though her scent still clings to the sheets, her laughter echoing faintly in the walls. I pour myself another cup of coffee and stare out the window, the ache of missing her settling deep in my chest.
My phone buzzes. A message from Alec:He’s awake. Not good today. Come when you can.
The world narrows to that single moment—grief and love colliding.
I grab my keys. Whatever the day brings, I know where I need to be.
And as I step outside, I swear I can still hear Bas’s voice in my head.
Be both, Sam. Strong and vulnerable.
So I am.
I drive toward their home.
The call comes, the one I’ve dreaded since the day Bas was diagnosed. It’s three in the morning, my heart already pounding in my throat as I put the phone to my ear. Alec’s voice is somber, low, and broken. He’s always been the pillar—Bas’s and mine, solid and composed no matter what storm we’ve faced. But now, his world is shattering. His voice trembles, thick with anguish. “Come, Sam. It’s time.”
The words gut me.
Two hours later, he’s gone.
