A few minutes later, a doctor emerges from the I.C.U. corridor, clipboard tucked in her arms. She glances down at her paperwork before scanning her eyes across the waiting area.
“Is the family of Anna Burke here?” she asks.
Stephen springs to his feet. I gently jostle Maddie’s shoulder until her eyes flutter open. She blinks groggily before stumbling up, clinging to my arm as we hurry toward the doctor.
“Yes, we’re here,” Stephen exhales. “How is she?”
The doctor’s lips press into a thin line. “Anna suffered an ischemic stroke. That can happen in patients with advanced, metastatic breast cancer.” She exhales quietly before continuing. “There’s also a significant amount of fluid in her lungs, so she’s been placed on a ventilator. Given her history of drug and alcohol use, her organs aren’t functioning well.” Her voice softens. “I’m very sorry, but I’d be surprised if she makes it through the night.”
My stomach drops. Maddie collapses into Stephen, crying in his chest as he holds her and rubs her back. Her broken sobs muffle into his clothes.
I manage to find my voice. “Can we see her?”
“Yes,” the doctor nods, “but I need to warn you—she won’t be responsive.”
We follow her down the stark hallway. The scent of disinfectant and the steady hum of machines grows louder with every step. She pushes open the door to a small, dimly lit room.
Mason is already there, sitting at his mom’s bedside. His fingers are laced tightly with hers, his thumb stroking the back of her frail hand. The sight of Anna makes my skin crawl—she looks so small, so fragile, swallowed by the hospital bed. Thin tubes snake from her arms to IV bags. A ventilator hisses rhythmically, each breath mechanical.
Mason doesn’t look up when we enter. His shoulders are hunched, his face pale, eyes rimmed red.
Stephen closes the distance first. He bends down and wraps an arm around Mason. To my surprise, Mason doesn’t flinch or shove him off. He leans into the embrace, his lip wobbling as he tries to hold back more tears.
I hang back across the room, watching as Maddie brushes a hand through Anna’s hair. Her quiet sniffles break the silence between the beeping monitors and whirring machines. My chest feels tight as I watch them—their whole family drawn together in this impossible, unbearable moment.
I step to Mason’s side, squeezing his shoulder. He looks up at me through damp eyes, anguish and exhaustion written all over his face. He tilts his head to kiss the back of my hand.
“Thank you for being here,” he says quietly.
I swallow my own tears, trying to be strong for him. “Always.”
Chapter Forty-One
Rain patters steadily against the windshield, blurring the world outside into smears of gray and orange. The wipers squeak across the glass in a slow rhythm. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel as I follow the winding road toward the cemetery, the weight of the day pressing heavy on my chest.
It’s been a week since Anna passed away in the middle of the night, quiet and peaceful, with Mason and Maddie at her bedside. I wasn’t in the room, but Mason told me she went gently, like slipping into sleep.
I took a few days off school and stayed in Claremont Shores, despite Mason insisting I didn’t need to. He doesn’t like admitting when he needs help, but there was a lot of work that needed to be done—writing her obituary, making phone calls to family, sorting through paperwork. Anna had done her best to plan ahead, but no amount of preparation could cover every detail.
Now, the cemetery comes into view through the drizzle. A sea of black umbrellas blooms across the damp grass, the fallen leaves clinging wet to the ground.
I park at the edge of the lot and make my way over the muddy path to the rows of folding chairs set up before the closed bronze casket. My clothes are already damp by the time I sit down, but I hardly notice.
Across the crowd, I spot Mason and Maddie standing together, surrounded by relatives and neighbors. Mason is stiff in his black suit, curls tamed neatly, shaking hands and accepting condolenceswith a guarded expression. Maddie clings to him like an anchor, her face blotchy from crying but still forcing small smiles.
I stand back and let the scene unfold, feeling like an outsider among all these people who know each other, who have history with Anna and Mason’s family. My chest tightens with the strange mix of grief and distance. I cared about her too, but not the way they did.
A dainty hand clasps my shoulder. I glance up to see Aliyah and Cam huddled beneath a shared umbrella. Aliyah looks elegant in a long black dress with ruffled shoulders, while Cam keeps it simple in a dark collared shirt and trousers.
“Hey,” Aliyah greets softly.
I pull them both into quick hugs, the kind you exchange when words aren’t enough. “I’m glad you’re here,” I murmur.
Aliyah squeezes my arm, her dark eyes full of gentle kindness. “How’s Mason doing? Is he holding up?”
I swallow. “He’s alright. Honestly, I think he just wants this part over with—all the formalities. It’s hard to focus on grieving when you’re busy planning the funeral.”
Aliyah smiles sympathetically. “He’s lucky to have you by his side. You’re good for him, Hunter.”
