My dad was always the first person I turned to with everything—no matter how small. Whether it was getting nominated for the school council or being picked to choreograph my first dance competition, he was the one I called. Even the time I stood up to that bully in primary school, he was the first to hear about it. His cheers were always the loudest, bursting with genuine excitement, which made him truly stand out from everyone else.
Now I can't tell him. When all I want to do is pick up the phone and hear his voice one more time.
“You wanted to ring him.” It's not a question.
“For a moment, I forgot he's gone,” I admit, my voice tight. “And then, just as I was about to call… I remembered. Is it silly that I miss his voice?”
“No baby,” he murmurs, thumb brushing lightly over my hand. “It's normal to miss it. Do you have any videos of him?”
I swallow hard, the knot in my throat tightening. “I do, but I… I can't bring myself to watch them.” I press my phone to my chest, the screen lighting up with a photo of him—grinning goofily, me pulling some ridiculous face.
“I don't exactly know what it's like to lose someone so important, and I get that looking back at memories might feel overwhelming. But maybe it could help. Even if it's just a little.”
I sniffle, forcing myself to swallow before the tears fall. River is the only one I've ever let see me like this.
“I’m worried,” I croak.
His touch is soft. “About what?”
Tears stream down my face, hot and relentless, as a crushing pain lodges beneath my ribs.
“What if I forget his voice? The little moments we shared? What if all I’m left with is the haunting image of him in his final moments?" A sob escapes, raw and jagged. "How… how do I keep moving forward when the person who has been my entire world is gone, Elijah?” The dam breaks, and I can't stop the flood of grief that crashes through me.
Without a word, Elijah is there. He undoes both our seatbelts, and in one fluid motion, he pulls me against him, holding me close. My body curls into him, clutching at his shirt like it's the only thing keeping me from breaking entirely.
He rests his chin atop my head and just holds me. No words. No questions.
Just him.
His heartbeat beneath my ear is a steady anchor, and the warmth of his body seeps into me. I cry into him, shuddering, allowing every bit of pain to pour out.
“You’ll never forget him,” he whispers, his voice a gentle balm against the wound in my heart. “And you’re not meant to. He’llalways be a part of you—woven into the very fabric of your being, shaping the way you love, the way you persevere. I can’t take away the pain, and I wish more than anything I could… but you don’t have to bear it alone.” I cling to him, my grip tightening as if he could somehow shield me from the world’s harsh edges. “Grief isn’t something you simply overcome. It’s a path you learn to walk, one step at a time. Some days will be harder than others, and that’s okay. Whatever you need—whether it's to cry, to find laughter in the sadness, to have space to breathe, or just to sit silently together in the dark—I’m here.”
I wrap my arms around him, and he accepts my desperate hug, offering a safe harbour for my tears. Letting him see my deepest sadness feels safe because I know he will never give up on me.
Chapter 22
Elijah
A warm body is curled up against mine, and it feels really fucking nice.
I crack my eyes open to the dim morning light, and there she is. Willow is on her side, back to me, soft breaths puffing out in gentle snores. I can't help the smile twitching at my lips; it's impossibly cute.
Although I definitely won't ever mention the snoring to her.
Last night nearly broke me. She'd fallen apart, crying in my arms, letting everything spill out she'd kept bottled up. And I held her for as long as she needed. When I finally felt her fall asleep, I carried her inside and tucked her into bed. I was going to leave her there and sleep in my own room, but her soft, sad voice stopped me. One look into those deep, emerald eyes, and I found myself crawling in beside her.
She slept soundly, thank fuck. As for me, I hardly slept at all. I kept checking on her, feeling how perfectly the curve of her body fit against mine. I wanted to savour the moment because I had no idea when I would have the chance to sleep with her again.
The room is warm, too warm, probably because neither of us bothered to change last night.
I lift my head and glance at the clock beside her. Six a.m. and I don't even have work today.
Willow’s hair spills across the pillow in wild, soft waves. Her lips are parted, breathing slowly. My eyes wander lower… well,fuck. Her dress has slipped at some point in the night, her tits spilling over the edge, pink peaks daring me with every exhale.
Wonder if she would ever get them pierced.
Shit. I should probably get out of bed before I wake her with my boner. The last thing she needs is me grinding against her while she sleeps.
