Chapter Thirty-Four
Jamie
Today was the day.
Day Zero.
The day Eric had been dreading. The one he’d tried to push from his mind with desperate intensity. So terrifying he’d hidden it from me like a shameful secret.
The day that could make or break it all.
The last time I stood in these sterile halls, grief had taken its time to overwhelm me, shock holding it at bay like a dam about to burst. This time, hope hung thick in the air around me.
Still, I wasn’t comforted. Hope could be the cruelest thing of all, lifting you to dizzying heights before dropping you into free fall.
In the hallway, Eric stood close. Close enough that I could feel the heat of him at my side. But he was quiet, his attention fixed on his family in the waiting room only a few feet away. They filled the space with low voices and forced optimism, clinging to each other.
He didn’t join them.
He stayed planted in front of me.
When he finally moved, it was deliberate. A step in. A hand at my waist, firm and steady, anchoring me where I stood. His lips brushed my forehead. The kiss was restrained, almost reverent. It felt less like affection and more like absolution.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
A few moments later, a nurse appeared in the doorway and called his name.
He didn’t look at me again. He just turned and walked away.
That was all I got.
I had no idea what he was thanking me for. For coming? For not running when he told me his secret? For pretending everything was fine when we both knew it wasn’t?
The doors swung closed behind him, and he was gone.
The rejection lodged somewhere deep. What was the point of those few seconds of privacy if he wouldn’t even look at me?
They took Caleb back not long after. We crowded into his room before they wheeled him out. One by one, we said our goodbyes. When it was my turn, I wrapped my arms around him and held tight.
“You’re going to kick cancer’s ass,” I whispered.
He grinned like this was a challenge he’d already accepted.
Then he was gone too, swallowed by the same doors.
The waiting room filled with the quiet chaos of people trying to sit still. Coffee cups. Half sentences. Forced optimism.
My mind kept drifting backward.
After our fight, Eric and I had fallen asleep tangled together. He’d held me so tightly it bordered on desperate, like he was afraid I’d slip away if he loosened his grip.
Yesterday, when I woke, he was already dressed. Composed in a way that made everything harder. He’d handed me coffee, pressed a careful kiss to my mouth, and told me he was spending the day with his family.
No invitation.
Last night, he’d called to say he was staying with his family. The words had cut sharper than I’d expected. Of course he should be with them. I would have done the same.
It still felt like being edged out.
Today, though, he’d asked me to come. To be here before they took him in. To wish them luck.
I’d promised that much. But nothing beyond it.
The decision to leave had settled quietly inside me before I even arrived.
Once everyone had returned to the waiting room and the adrenaline of the sendoff began to fade, I stood.
“I’m going to head out,” I said.
The silence that followed was immediate. Shock flickered across their faces.
I forced my voice steady. “Can someone call and let me know how it goes?”
Sylvie reached for me first. I stepped into her space and kissed her once on each cheek, the familiar Quebecois greeting suddenly heavy with finality. She broke down, gripping my hands like I was taking something with me when I walked away.
Even Celeste—intimidating, domineering Celeste—had tears in her eyes. Marc and Glenn each hesitated before pulling me into firm, wordless hugs. Embraces that felt like forgiveness I didn’t deserve.
From the doorway, I turned back for one last look.
They’d drawn together without thinking, closing ranks in the center of the waiting room.
Arms looped around waists. Hands settled on shoulders.
Bodies angled inward, forming a tight circle that shut out the rest of the world.
They held each other while they waited for the two missing pieces who would make them whole again.
This was what family looked like.
The sight pressed hard against my chest, tightening my throat.
They had exactly what I’d promised to give Hunter. Not just relatives. True belonging.
Family wasn’t about blood or obligation. It was acceptance and alliance, people who chose to love you despite your flaws and stand by you when everything fell apart.
I’d made that promise for my son, but standing there watching the Alexanders, I realized how desperately I wanted it for myself too.
A new kind of hope bloomed in my chest, terrifying in its intensity.
Maybe I could have this. Maybe I could build something real and lasting.
I just had to put myself out in the world and try.