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But she couldn’t.
And even if Saff took her last breath there, where she lay, she still didn’t think she could leave her.
Maybe she’d never be able to leave her.
“I wish,” she whispered, her jaw quivering as new tears fell. “I wish it was me instead.”
And as the words fell from her lips, she realized how true it was. Because she couldn’t imagine any greater pain on earth than feeling the life slowly seep from the woman she loved.
Her body didn’t have any sobs left.
Whatever energy and despair that was still within her had left her empty—broken. But the tears still came, as if to keep her company in her sorrow.
And maybe after that day, they’d never stop.
She nestled her head back down, crying silent tears into Saff’s neck, curling into her body as if she could will the life back into her.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Time warped, and she didn’t know how long she laid there like that, reciting the words over and over until she wasn’t even sure she was speaking them aloud anymore.
Then, some small part of her, the part that hadn’t yet completely shut out the world around them, heard a noise.
A shuffling or scraping.
But this time, she didn’t even care to move.
She couldn’t bring herself to pull her face away from the lingering warmth of Saff’s neck. And maybe, if she died there, holding her, that would be okay.
The sounds ebbed around her, slowly rising.
She tucked her head in closer, cradling Saff’s body, pouring every ounce of love into her. And when she did move, it was only to place a soft kiss against her neck.
“I love you,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the words as tears poured out, realizing how true it was and how much she’d regretted not saying it sooner.
Then she waited for whatever was to come.
Until finally, she heard the voice.
Chapter forty-seven
At some point, the never ending darkness blurred into fleeting images.
The house they’d lived in when she was a child.
Her father in his military uniform, eyes cold and vacant, staring down at her.
The images floated by one after the other.
Images of her childhood, first. Then when she was a teenager.
She saw him standing in the small trailer the day before she left for college. And she felt it more than she saw it.
The guilt. The shame in leaving.
She wondered if he’d thought of her mother at all in those days. If he thought of the way she’d also left him behind.
Her mother.
