We stay like that—his body moving with mine—until I can’t hold it in anymore. The release crashes through me, fast and consuming. Brooks follows with a low groan, his breath stuttering against my lips as he falls apart in my arms.
Afterward, we collapse into each other, tangled and trembling, the room filled with nothing but the sound of our breathing.
"That was…" he begins, voice still ragged.
"It was," I whisper with a soft laugh, reaching up to cradle his face gently in my palm. His eyes are warm and sleepy.
Time blurs after that. We lie there, limbs entwined, skin flushed, a sheen of sweat cooling between us. My head rises and falls with each breath he takes until sleep finally pulls me under.
But it doesn’t last.
The door to my bedroom crashes open.
Light floods the room, harsh and blinding.
My eyes sting. Brooks’ arm is already around me before I can breathe and yanks the blanket over us as I scramble to sit up.
Jasper stands in the doorway, eyes red, cheeks streaked with tears.
"Why haven’t you been answering your phones?" he shouts, his voice cracking. "I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for the past two hours!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
This House Was Never Home
Numb.
That’s all I feel.
Not sadness. Not anger. Just… numb.
The hospital waiting room is too bright, too cold. The chairs are too stiff, the carpet too clean. Everything about this place feels indifferent, like it has no idea the world just stopped.
I’m sitting between Jasper—who hasn’t stopped crying since we got here—and Brooks, who hasn’t said a word. Not since we arrived. Not since it happened. His thigh presses against mine, warm and stabilizing, but he’s still. Frozen.
Dad is gone.
I keep telling myself I feel nothing, but that’s not true. There’s something under it. It’s just too big to name yet.
Gone.
I was just with him. I kissed his forehead. I said I’d see him tomorrow.
There is no tomorrow.
They said it was a stroke. Another one. Quick. Peaceful. He fell asleep and… didn’t wake up.
No goodbyes. No last words. Just…silence.
And Mom.
She’s still in the room. I can hear her sobs echoing down the sterile hallway, ragged and raw, the sound of something breaking apart.
She won’t leave him.
She might never leave the house again after this.
And me? I can’t feel anything. Not yet. I’m just… here. Sitting in this awful chair. Listening to Jasper cry. Watching the cracks form in all the places we thought were solid.
