He can’t be g?—
My throat closes with a sharp pain, eyes searing as they brim with a fresh wave of devastated tears. I shake my head, refusing to believe this is happening.
No. Please, no.
But we were so close. I was almost there so I could be with him.
My entire family got the chance to say goodbye except me.
It hurts to breathe. To swallow. To talk.
Everything fuckinghurts.
“I didn’t make it,” I choke out hoarsely.
Easton holds my hand tighter. He pulls off to the side of the road and turns on the hazards, letting go only long enough to come around the side of the car. Opening my door, he tugs me against him while my world falls apart.
“Shh, I know. I’m so sorry.” He sounds as anguished as I do, consoling me with gruff words while stroking my hair and clutching me in his embrace. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
He unbuckles me and lifts me to hold me closer, sliding into my seat with me on his lap. I bury my face against his chest and hug him with every ounce of strength I have left. I’m no longer in control of my body, tremors racking me as blood rushes in my ears.
Everything I’ve held back breaks through in an overwhelming rush. I cry so hard it’s a struggle to drag air into my lungs. Through my breakdown, Easton never lets me go.
“No,” I sob in utter defeat.
“I’m here, Maya,” Easton whispers thickly as his own emotions splinter through his composure. “I’m sorry, baby. He knows how much you love him. He knows.”
He locks me in his strong arms, murmuring against my temple while I soak his hoodie with my tears. Every part of me aches with unbearable pain.
I wish I’d hugged Grandpa tighter the last time I saw him. Wish I’d spent longer with him.
How was I supposed to know that day we walked through the grounds would be the last time I saw him?
Another tormented sob racks through me.
Grandpa promised me. He promised to see me graduate. Two months. He was supposed to make it two more months for me.
He didn’t make it, and neither did I.
My grandpa is gone, and I didn’t get to talk to him one last time. I don’t know how life will ever be the same again without him.
THIRTY-THREE
MAYA
Ryanand my parents are at the house when we get in. Mom reaches me first, catching me in her arms when my knees go weak. Dad comes up behind her and fits his arms around both of us while Ryan comes up at my side to rub my back. I’m numb, yet also feel like I’m balancing on the edge of breaking down again at the smallest trigger.
“I wanted to be faster,” I say hoarsely.
“It’s okay,” Dad says. “It was tough to go through. Maybe it’s better this way.”
I look back at Easton, vision going blurry. Would he agree? Both of us lost our chances to say goodbye. He knows what I’m feeling better than they do, although his loss was so sudden he wasn’t able to prepare at all.
Maybe there is no good way to face losing your loved ones, whether it’s in an accident or by illness, or when it’s simply their time to go.
Easton rests his palm at the small of my back when my family gives me room to breathe and holds out a hand.
“I’m sorry for your loss. I’m also sorry we’re meeting this way.”
