66. Gabrielle
Gabrielle
I don’t know what day it is anymore. Time doesn’t properly register in my brain.
The sun rises. The sun sets. People come and go.
They bring food, clean, talk to me—even though I’m not listening.
I hear the clinking of dishes, the murmured conversations just beyond my door, the weight of everyone trying so hard to take care of me.
But I can’t make myself move. I can’t exist outside of this bed, outside of these sheets that still smell like him.
It feels like life is passing by around me, but I can’t focus enough to be part of any of it. I just lay here, numb, waiting for something to make me feel alive again.
Kinsley is the only person I’ve been able to talk to since Cam passed. She comes in quietly, sliding under the blanket beside me without saying anything. I don’t turn to her at first, just stare up at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the paint.
After a while, I roll onto my side, facing her. And I don’t even realize I’m crying until I feel tears dripping onto my arm, and I hear my voice come out hoarse.
“How am I supposed to do this?”
Kinsley watches me, her eyes glassy, but she doesn’t rush to answer. She lets the question sit between us for a moment.
“How do I go back to life like I’m not missing half of myself?”
She doesn’t tell me I have to move forward. She doesn’t give me any empty reassurance that time will heal.
She just pulls me into her arms and holds me. “You don’t have to do anything normal,” she whispers. “Because going back to normal would just be you putting on a show. And you don’t need to do that for anyone.”
I clutch onto her, my fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt, soaking myself in her warmth.
“Live in the grief for a while,” she continues, stroking my back. “Hold on to whatever parts of him you need to. No one is expecting anything from you. Wes and I—we’re here. We’re not going anywhere. That’s all that matters.”
I close my eyes, breathing in her words, feeling them wrap around me like a blanket.
After a while, I whisper, “How’s Wes?”
I haven’t seen him since the day Cam passed. Kinsley is here every day, but Wes hasn’t been back.
She sighs, pulling back slightly. “I’m worried about him, Gab.”
I blink at her, trying to focus.
“He cashed in all his vacation days. Hasn’t been back to work since Cam…” She swallows. “He’s just…angry. All the time. I know this has been hard for him to deal with, and I don’t know how to help.”
Before I can respond, the sound of the front door unlocking echoes through the apartment.
We both freeze, turning toward the bedroom door just as Wes walks in.
He stops in the doorway, hesitating like he’s not sure if he should be here. His eyes flick between Kinsley and me, taking in the way we’re curled up together in the bed.
Then, without a word, he moves toward me.
He kneels down beside the bed, resting his arms on the mattress. His voice is softer than I expect when he asks, “How are you doing?”
I shake my head, the words breaking before I can even say them. “It…physically hurts.”
Wes exhales, squeezing my hand. “I know,” he whispers.
“I miss him so much.” He looks away for a second, his jaw tightening.
“I’m sorry for not being here the last couple of days.
I just…I felt like if I didn’t come back here yet…
if I wasn’t in this apartment, in the reality of everything…
I could trick myself into believing he was still here. ”
My breath catches.
Wes rubs a hand over his face, letting out a quiet, bitter laugh. “I made Cam a promise, though. To look after you. And that’s what I’m going to do.”
Kinsley shifts beside us, placing her hand on his arm, grounding him like she always does.
Wes clears his throat. “The funeral is in a couple of days.”
The words hit like a wrecking ball to my heart, even though I knew this conversation had to happen.
He hesitates before adding, “Cam asked me to speak.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat, trying to keep my breathing even.
“He also told me that…if you didn’t want to talk, you didn’t have to. That he knew how much you loved him, and if it was too much, he wouldn’t want you to do it.”
I shake my head immediately. “I—I can’t.”
“I know, and that’s okay, Gab,” Wes reassures me. “You don’t have to.”
The relief in his voice is almost tangible, like he was afraid I’d push myself when I wasn’t ready.
“Get some rest,” he says softly.
Kinsley stays beside me, rubbing my back in slow, soothing circles. And I let the exhaustion win. Closing my eyes and drifting off back to sleep. Back to him.
My dreams are the only place I’ll ever see him again. So I look forward to the darkness if he’s there to greet me.