I’d been so wrapped up in my own dread, my own history, that I hadn’t considered what this felt like from the other side of the bed. From my father’s side.
Maybe they were right. My father had pushed me away before, when everything felt out of control. This might not be so different. It could be fear talking. Or even weakness.
Not rejection.
“Thank you.” More words tangled between gratitude and regret, but I didn’t trust myself to sort them out. “It was nice seeing you again, Caleb.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” He grinned.
It wasn’t the wild, flirtatious smile he’d flashed before. This one was quieter. Genuine. The kind that made my chest ache a little.
I turned to Eric. “Walk me out?”
He nodded once, mouth set in a hard line.
This time, he didn’t touch me as we left. He followed a few steps behind, deliberate distance opening between us where there hadn’t been any before. The space felt heavy with everything I’d dumped into that room without meaning to.
I’d taken a good moment and bent it into something uncomfortable. Turned their warmth into an opportunity to throw a pity party for myself.
That wasn’t who I was. I wasn’t fragile or self-absorbed. I was capable and grounded.
Hell, I’d raised a child on my own since I was eighteen.
So why did I feel like I was coming apart now? Over my father, of all people?
The shame settled deep and unwelcome.
The moment we stepped into the hallway, I spun toward him. “I’m sorry.”
“No.” His voice was firm enough to stop me mid-breath. “You’re not doing that.”
I froze, my heart stuttering.
“Don’t apologize for having feelings. At least you’re brave enough to show them.” His jaw was tight, tone controlled in a way that felt intentional. “I’ve been hiding behind fake smiles and bad jokes since Caleb was diagnosed. Yesterday was the first time I smiled for real.”
My breath caught. “Yesterday?”
“Yeah.” He met my gaze without hesitation. “When I saw you and the awestruck look on my little brother’s face. I knew you were the reason he looked so fucking happy. He hasn’t looked like that in a long time, Jamie. We’ve both just been pretending.”
“But I didn’t do anything. I was wallowing in my own misery. He’s the one who made me smile.”
“Maybe. But you let him in. You smiled back, and it wasn’t out of pity. That mattered.”
He crossed his arms, the movement stretching his shirt tight across his chest. “He needs to feel like he can do more than make people cry. He wants to make people laugh. You gave him that.”
I swallowed, emotion pressing tight against my ribs.
“Those moments are all we really have,” he said. “They’re the things that fucking count.”
I looked down, shame still circling despite his words. “I still feel like I ruined it.”
“You didn’t. You reminded us that we’re not the only ones hurting in this place.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “You also gave Caleb a new challenge. You left his room looking upset. He’s going to make it his personal mission to track you down and fix that.”
The thought of Caleb’s stubborn optimism tugged a smile out of me, but it was Eric who held it there.
I couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched something real in me this quickly. Not with charm or obligation, but with presence. The way he’d held me while I cried—solid, unflinching—had felt like something to grab onto when everything else was slipping.
