Cole pulls open the door.
“Hey, Matt.” His voice is quiet and raw, full of ache and something broken.
His eyes fill and he looks away, face crumpling. I step forward and wrap my arms around him. He folds into me, and it’s not a hug. It’s survival. The way someone leans into another when they’ve seen death up close and don’t know where else to put it.
A kid leaning into the one person he feels safe enough to let go with.
I pull him in tight and squeeze my eyes shut.
“Hey, buddy,” I say, my voice cracking. I’m this close to losing it.
I let out a sigh of relief. Pure gratitude. Not because he’s okay. He’s not.I’m not. But because I needed this. Needed to see him. To hold him. Even if just for a second.
I can’t explain it, but being here with him makes it all feel… bearable. Like if I can take even one ounce of pain from him—just hold it, make it lighter—I’ll sleep better knowing that I made today a little easier for him.
Cole’s shoulders start to shake and he sniffs hard.Fuck it.I blink and let the sting behind my eyes fall. Even the bravest, strongest men cry when they lose a soldier.
And we lost a good one this morning.
Fuck. We lost a good one.
“It’s gonna be okay, bud. It’s gonna be okay.”What am I saying? Why the fuck am I saying that?
Cece appears in the doorway, her eyes red, grief carved in her expression.
“Hi, Cece.” My voice feels like gravel. “I’m… I’m sorry.”
I don’t bother trying to smile or pretend I’m happy to see her. I’m not. Nothing about this day is good. It can go to hell.
“Hello, Matthew.” She steps aside and waves me in. “Come in. The living room’s open.”
Cole pulls away and heads inside, and I follow behind him, my shirt damp from his tears. He sinks into the sofa, and I drop down beside him, slipping an arm around his shoulders.
Silence. Sniffles. And… I don’t know what to say.
What do you say to a kid who just lost his dad? His only parent?
Finally I settle on, “How you holding up?”
Dumb. Stupid fucking question.
He shrugs.Figures.What’s he gonna say?
I try again. “I don’t know what to say. This is—this sucks. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to see what you saw last night. Sorry you had to go through that. Sorry your dad…”Jesus Christ.I choke on the words, jaw locking. “Didn’t make it.” I press my fingers into my forehead and inhale a shaky breath. “Shit.”
He’s quiet. And when I steal a glance at him, my chest caves, squeezes so tight it hurts.
He swipes at his cheeks. “When do I get to go home with you? I don’t want to stay here.”
My head tips back, eyes on the ceiling like maybe there’s an answer up there. “I know.” I want to say all the right things, anything to give him hope. But the last thing I’ll ever be with him is a liar.
“I don’t know yet,” I admit. “I’m talking to a lawyer today. Trying to get what’s called temporary guardianship. I don’t know if I’ll get it, bud. They might give it to your grandma. But I’m gonna try. I’ll fight like hell to win if that’s what you want.”
“It is,” he whispers, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand.
“Okay,” I whisper back. “Then I’ll do whatever I have to do. But in the meantime, your grandma Cece’s going to take good care of you, alright? Be good for her. And I’m just a phone call or text away if you need me. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you.”
Cece clears her throat from the doorway, pulling my attention. “Cole, I made you a sandwich. Why don’t you go on into the kitchen and eat?”
