Prologue #2
“Yeah, worth it for you,” I mutter, shaking my head. “You didn’t get a weeping rash all over your arms and hands.”
His lips twitch again, softer this time, and for a moment it’s like we’re twelve again, just two dumb Buffalo boys raising hell on Halloween night, not sitting here in a room that smells like rubbing alcohol, waiting for the clock to run out.
But the moment doesn’t last.
“What are the doctors saying?” I ask, my voice low.
Gray exhales slowly. “Weeks.” He pauses, meets my eyes. “But between you and me? I don’t think I’ve got long.”
My throat burns. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth.” His hand shakes as he reaches for mine. I don’t hesitate to grasp it, hating how bony it feels. “Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Look after her.”
My eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Who?”
Gray shakes his head, a frown in place as if he’s trying to explain it but isn’t doing a great job at it. “She’ll be alone in this world and she needs someone.”
He must be talking about his daughter, Grayce. Barely a year old. Her mother died in childbirth and now her father is almost gone.
I start to ask what he means, but his eyes are already fluttering shut. “Hey,” he says weakly. “I’m really tired and am going to take a little nap. Can you stay awhile?”
“Yeah, sure,” I say, but I have no idea how long a nap is to him. Hopefully he’ll wake up before I have to leave. I have no clue if I’ll be able to get back to see him again and I feel an immense sense of doom hanging over me.
Exhaustion pulls him right under and within seconds, he’s asleep, leaving me with the words ringing in my head. Look after her.
Maddie? Grayce? Both? I don’t know.
I sit there a while, staring at him, the weight of the inevitable pressing down on me. I gently pull my hand free of his and make my way back to the living room.
Maddie’s there, folding laundry. She doesn’t look up as I enter, just keeps at it, methodical and precise. The dark circles under her eyes are stark against her pale skin. Her mouth is drawn down, her shoulders tight. Grief hangs on her like a second skin.
Gray’s words echo in my head. Be nicer to her.
I lean against the doorframe, watching her. Yeah, she looks as exhausted as Gray and I can’t imagine what it feels like to not only be Gray’s caretaker, but to watch him wither away, day in and day out.
An unexpected dose of empathy hits me, which is completely antithetical to the continuous state of frustration I’m always in around her. It wins out over the jealousy that she’s been here, Gray’s constant, while I’ve been the outsider.
“How are things going?” I ask finally, my voice rough.
She stiffens, her hands tightening on the fabric she’s folding. “Fine.” The word is sharp, defensive.
I almost push but stop myself. She doesn’t want to talk. Doesn’t want to let me in. And maybe that’s why she grates on me so much. She’s just like me. Guarded. Closed off. Afraid that if she cracks open even a little, the whole damn thing will break.
“Fine doesn’t tell me anything,” I say after a beat, still leaning against the doorframe. “How is he really?”
Her hands still and she presses her lips together, then says flatly, “You saw him. You don’t need me to paint you a picture.”
My jaw clenches. “I’m asking because I want to know what the doctors are saying.”
Her gaze slices to mine, ice-blue and furious. “What the doctors are saying is that I should make him comfortable. That’s it. That’s all we’re down to now. Happy?”
The air between us snaps tight, and before I can stop myself, I push further. “I just need to know you’re doing everything you can for him.”
Her face goes white, then flushes scarlet.
She drops the shirt on the pile with a sharp flick of her wrists.
“Don’t you dare question me. Don’t you dare stand here and imply I’m not giving him everything.
I am here every single day, Atlas. Every hour.
Every breath he takes, I’m in the room making sure he has what he needs. Where the hell are you?”
Guilt makes my knees wobble. “I’m playing hockey,” I snap. “It’s called a career. One that doesn’t let me jet off to Chicago whenever I feel like it.”
Her eyes blaze. “And you think I don’t have a career too? You’re not all that special, Atlas. Meanwhile, I’m doing the best I can to make sure Gray has dignity in his last few weeks.”
I stare at her, seething, because she’s right. She knows him in ways I can’t anymore—day to day, hour to hour. But I’ve known him my whole life, and that should mean something.
“I’ve known him since we were kids,” I bite out. “Don’t act like you’ve cornered the market on loving him.”
Her chin lifts, her voice trembling with fury. “Knowing someone and being here for them are not the same thing. You may have history, Atlas, but I’m the one who’s been holding his hand while he fades. You couldn’t possibly understand.”
The words slice deep, sharper because they’re true, and guilt sweeps through me hotter than ever.
I drag a hand down my face. “Gray fell asleep, so I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back when he wakes up.”
I don’t wait for her answer. I grab my jacket off the chair and step into the hallway. My chest feels like it’s going to split open, grief and anger tangled so tight I can’t tell them apart.
Behind me, the door shuts with a soft click, but I can still feel her fury like static in the air.