His grip firmed, thumb tracing slow circles over my wrist. A reminder I wasn’t alone.
“The coma was induced. The doctors said it was the only way to try to save her. But after three weeks, it wasn’t her anymore. Just machines.” I swallowed hard. “They told us she was brain dead. There was no real choice left, but it was my dad who had to make it.”
My chest burned as the memory pressed down hard.
“He signed the paperwork. Less than twenty-four hours later, she was gone.”
“Fuck, Jamie. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t deserve your sympathy.” My voice cracked as the first tear slipped free. “I blamed him. Screamed at him and called him a murderer.”
The pain that gripped my chest was sharp and old, nothing like the dull ache I’d been carrying. This one had teeth—grief that had never been processed or even named.
“What I didn’t understand was that the doctors would’ve done it anyway. That the decision my dad made was probably the hardest one he’d ever face.”
The lump in my throat swelled until it hurt to breathe. “He did it out of love. Out of mercy. He donated her organs. He spared us weeks of watching her fade.”
Tears slid freely now, no point fighting them.
“He never defended himself. Never corrected me. Never told me the facts. He just let me hate him.”
“Come here.” Eric didn’t wait for permission. He pulled me into him, like he’d already decided this was where I belonged.
I let myself lean into him. I hadn’t earned this. Didn’t deserve the way he held me like I was something worth protecting. I took it anyway.
“We were both drowning,” I said, my voice cracking. “But instead of holding onto each other, we just…shut down.”
Eric’s arm tightened around me, and I curled my legs onto the bench, pressing my cheek to his shoulder.
“He started drinking. I’d come home from school and find him passed out. Sometimes in his own mess.” My stomach knotted. “When he wasn’t out cold, he was furious. Everything set him off. I cleaned him up when I could. Avoided him when I couldn’t. And that became the norm somehow.”
Silence settled around us, but my thoughts hadn’t stilled.
Coming back here, I was prepared for that version of my father. For the mess. The quiet dread of walking through the door.
Instead, I’d found a man who seemed…functional. When had he clawed his way out? And how had I missed it?
“Did he hurt you?” Eric’s voice wasn’t loud, but the words were hard.
“He slapped me once. But the first time he hit me was the last time he ever got the chance.”
My chest burned as the memory surfaced. The crack of skin on skin. The sting that lingered long after my face stopped throbbing.
“So you started running to Dylan.” It wasn’t a question, and it didn’t sound like an accusation, either. Eric stated it like a fact. “That was your out.”
“Yes. He was my escape.” A bitter, breathy laugh slipped free. “I really believed he was going to save me.”
God, I’d been so young. So desperate. I’d wrapped my future around a boy who cared more about sneaking booze and getting me into bed than getting me out of anything. He talked pretty, and I’d listened.
Like a fool.
“But he didn’t.”
“No,” I agreed. “He didn’t.”
He exhaled, slow and measured. “Okay. My turn.”
I blinked. “What?”
