“He still needs more doctor appointments,” I say. “They’re talking about MRIs and… god, lots of stuff.”
“That’s agoodthing. It means he’s getting the help he needs.”
I nod weakly. “Yeah. I guess.” I wipe my face again, taking a deep breath.
Sarah rubs my back.
“Anyway, I should get back before these get cold,” I say, gathering the coffees.
Before I can leave, she says, “Fletcher?”
I pause.
“You’re allowed to be scared for someone you care about. You know that, right?” Her blunt observation tells me she sees exactly how much I feel for Vince.
“I’m trying to be strong for him.”
She shakes her head. “Being strong for someone doesn’t mean you’re immune to the fear or any of the other bad feelings. You’re still allowed to feel it. And youshould.You need to process everything, so you can be there for him.”
I nod, not sure how to reply. Processing my fear feels impossible when I should be helping Vince through his.
But she’s right. I’ve been holding Vince up so much over the last couple of months that I haven’t really let myself grasp what this means—how much his life is going to change. He might not get better. Things might not get easier.
In fact, they’ll probably get worse. Much worse. Yet that still isn’t what scares me—not at all.
It’s not being around for it.
I want to be there for Vince, and I’m afraid he won’t let me.
She reaches for me again, hugging tight. “I’m here if you need me, okay? Just call or come by.”
I’ve never been more grateful that we remained friends after our divorce. “Thank you.”
I leave her office calmer than I entered. Still unsettled and still unsure, but grounded enough to walk back into that room and face whatever’s waiting for me there.
I peek through the window before entering. Ace is sitting in the chair beside the bed, and Vince is talking, animated despite the exhaustion dragging at his features. He looks… happy. Relieved. Like something heavy has been lifted off him.
I should be glad.
Iamglad.
But it still hurts.
I finally step in and pass out the coffees, suddenly very aware that I don’t have a place to sit anymore. The only chair in the room is occupied, and sitting on the bed again feels too intimate, given the company.
Ace watches me over the rim of his cup, clearly curious.
“So how long are you staying in town?” Vince asks him.
Ace shrugs. “Not sure. Didn’t book a return flight. Needed to see how you’re doing first.”
“Well, you can use my apartment if you want,” Vince says easily. “No sense paying for a hotel.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
The words hit hard.Use his apartment.
