Then I looked back at Matt’s marker again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here before. I’m sorry we didn’t get more time.”
“I miss you,” I said simply. “More than I let myself think about.”
It was the truth.
And the truth hurt in a way that didn’t need any help from theatrics.
I crouched down, brushed a few pine needles off the stone, and stayed there for a minute with my head bowed.
It felt like a knot inside me loosened.
When I finally stood, Dad stepped forward and rested a firm hand on my shoulder.
“You ready?” he asked.
I nodded.
He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze before letting go. We walked back to the truck the same way we came, quietly, side by side.
As Dad started the engine, he glanced over at me.
“Let’s get some food,” he said.
“Yeah.” I said.
I looked out the window at the pines blurring past.
It didn’t fix anything. But strangely, I felt better.
Facing it was enough for now.
Chapter 37
Ethan
Dad and I didn’t talk much on the drive home from the cemetery.
He kept the radio low, one hand on the wheel, the other drumming quietly on his thigh the way he always did when he was thinking.
I felt wrung out and heavy, tired in a bone-deep way, but steadier than I had felt in months.
We pulled into the driveway, and the house was quiet.
“Mom must’ve run to the store,” Dad muttered.
But the second I stepped inside, I heard a sharp cry, cut off halfway.
“Mom?” I called out, already moving.
“In here,” her voice trembled with pain.
I sprinted to the kitchen.
She was on the floor beside the small ladder she used to reach the top cupboards, her face pale and pinched, her breathing shallow.
“Mom!” I dropped to my knees beside her. “What happened?”
“I slipped,” she said through clenched teeth. “My.. my foot. I can’t put weight on it.”
