When we come to a closed door at the end of the hall, he blocks me from opening it. “Let me come in with you. You don’t have to face this alone.”
“This doesn’t concern you, Cosmos.”
“You’re wrong. Anything that concerns you, concerns me.”
“Stop.” I hold up a hand. He’s so close my fingertips brush his chest before I pull back. “Stop pretending it’s all still fine. It’s not. Just drop the act.”
“Act?” Cosmos huffs out a breath and takes my wrist. “You think you can scare me off with a few tears?”
“It wasn’t a few tears. I’m barely holding it together. Just let me go. Before it’s even worse.”
He pulls my hand to his chest, holding it against his heart. “Hazel, you have every right to be emotional right now.”
“But it’s not just right now. That’s what I keep trying to tell you. You might be fine with it now, but what about when I come home sobbing from the grocery store for no discernible reason? What about when you forget to kiss me goodnight, and I take it too personally? What about when my anxiety is bad and I can’t handle you touching me without washing your hands first or I have a panic attack in front of your whole family on Christmas morning? It’s not worth it.”
“Not worth it?” Cosmos drops my hands and steps back. I’ve never seen him like this—completely crushed. “How can you claim to know how I’ll react to any of that? Don’t you trust me—trust us?”
The door swings open and slams into my toe. I curse under my breath as I grab my foot and hop on one leg.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Dr. Newberry apologizes from the doorway. “I was just coming to find you both. Are you okay?”
Of course I’m not okay, but I grit my teeth and nod, stumbling into the small room. The only furniture is a round table and a few chairs. Mom’s oncologist, Dr. Kim, is sitting in one of them, and Viraj and Samantha are in the others. Two seats remain empty. Cosmos hoovers in the doorway.
“Cosmos can stay if you’d like the support,” Dr. Newberry says. His expression is a little stiff, but his smile is kind.
“No.”
I don’t need more heartache in this room.
Cosmos turns and walks away without closing thedoor. Viraj and Samantha exchange confused looks before Samantha stands and shuts the door with a decisive click.
Dr. Newberry leans forward. “I’m so sorry, Miss Berton, but…”
And the sword drops.
Chapter Thirty-Six
They say denial is the first stage of grief. I don’t think denial is the right word. I can’t deny that she’s gone. Every night, I dream of her. And always wake alone.
It’s like my mind knows she’s gone, but my body hasn’t gotten the memo yet. This morning, I woke at 4:22am. The exact time I woke up on the day Mom collapsed. It’s too early, but I stumble half-asleep into the kitchen and start the coffeemaker. Then, I take out two mugs. One for me, and one for her. A habit I’ve done so many times, it’s muscle memory.
Now, I’m standing here staring at a mug that says:Readers Anonymous. It’s heavier than it should be. I don’t know why I’m holding it.
The denial of grief isn’t mental. It’s physical. My body still expects the normal morning routine—coffee and watching the sunrise. With Mom. I can almost hear her laughter, even though the house is silent.Empty. My ears still remember it so well. The soft cinnamon scent of her perfume lingers in the air. My body can’t make sense of her absence.
“You’re up.”
I respond viscerally to the voice.Mom?The mug hits the counter with a dull thud. I turn.
Not Mom. Kiara. I didn’t expect her to still be here. She and Aunt Joan have been around almost constantly, one or the other of them bringing me food and checking on me, watching movies in the living room, laughing. I don’t understand how they can laugh?
But this morning, the house was quiet, so I thought I was alone.
Kiara stretches her arms over the couch, her bracelets jingling. “It’s too flipping early for you to finally decide to get out of bed.”
“W-we liked to watch the sunrise.” The stupid, stupid sunrise.
“Oh.” Kiara pops up. “Let’s do it.”
