Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
But now that she’s asleep, my own feelings are stirring, and by God, do they hurt.
My chest feels tight and my heart physically sick. Summer Bishop should not be dying, and I don’t care about some greater plan. I want her to stay here, with us, forever.
I snag my phone from the coffee table and send a text to someone I know is hurting just like me.
Me: How is she?
Breezy’s response comes a minute later.
Breezy: It’s not much longer. Do you want to come say goodbye?
Instantly, tears prick my eyes, but I’m up and moving without a second thought. As hard as this will be for me, I don’t want Summer to question for even a second if I loved her enough to be there when she needed me.
Me: On my way.
…
Bennett’s house is quiet, the lights are dim, and a pall of sadness hangs in every vestige of the air as I step inside. Breezy sits at the kitchen table, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen, and I pull the door closed behind me as gently as I can manage.
“Where’s Ben?” I ask, my voice soft. “Is he okay?” It’s a stupid question. I know it. None of us are fucking okay here. But it’s the desperate need to make him that way that has me asking anyway.
She shakes her head. “He’s in there with her.”
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip to fight back the emotion that wants to break open like a dam from my chest. Losing a child is the worst thing anyone can experience. I know this to be true, and I only had weeks to fall in love. Bennett has had years.
Breezy reaches for my hand and stands from the table, leading me toward Summer’s bedroom. I hesitate just before we get to the cracked door, pulling on Breezy’s arm. She stops and turns back, her brows drawn together.
“I don’t want to intrude on Bennett’s time.”
Breezy’s face is soft in a way that suggests she sees right through me. I came to say goodbye, but now that I’m here, it feels impossible.
“He’s expecting you,” she says simply. I swallow hard, nodding slightly, and she pushes through the door gently. Charlie is on the far bedside, adjusting the oxygen mask on Summer’s face, and her chest moves up and down, painfully labored. Bennett sits on this side, his head bowed with her hand in his.
She looks so small, I have to suck my lips into my mouth to keep them from quivering. Her skin is so pale it almost looks translucent, her eyes are closed, and her lips have a bluish tint that makes a deep, nagging ache claw at my stomach.
Bennett glances over his shoulder and meets my eyes. All I can do is nod toward him. He looks back at his daughter, lifts her hand to press kisses to her fingers, and gently sets it back on the bed before rising to his feet.
He doesn’t say anything to me, but I can’t stop myself from meeting him halfway to the door and wrapping him up in a hug. I hug him hard and tight, and it only takes a few seconds before he’s hugging me back. I can feel his chest vibrate with each sob, and I silently tell him how sorry I am through my embrace.
When I release him, his devastated gaze meets mine for just a moment before he gives my shoulder one gentle squeeze and walks out the door with Breezy.
I take a deep breath and head over to the empty chair beside Summer’s bed and sit down. The closer I get to her, the more I know how bad it really is. Her last days have now become hours, and her little body can’t go on much longer.
Tears stream down my cheeks as I reach out to gently place my hand over hers, feeling her soft skin for the first time in years. Between the rift and her fragility, I can’t remember the last time we made contact. I weave my fingers with hers, rubbing my thumb over the pink-glitter-polished nail on her pinkie. “I love you, sweet girl. More than the moon and the stars and all the time and space in between. You showed people how to love, me included. You showed me what’s right and important, and you lit up this whole town’s world.”
I bow my head and rest it on her hand, trying like hell to keep the sobs that want to escape my lungs under control. I’ve known this little girl since she was a baby. For the first few years of her life, I was her Auntie Josie. I saw her all the time. I cuddled her and played with her and fed her bottles and changed her diapers.
She’s not supposed to die, and she’s certainly not supposed to do it before me.