“You knew?” Her voice was hoarse from the tears.
“I did, but—”
“Ronan, you knew my mother was sick.My only parent.You knew she was dying and didn’t tell me?” she choked, anger and heartbreak cutting through her words.
“We weren’t close back then. I was doing my job. I was trying to—”
“After that, we became close, and you still didn’t think to tell me my mother was dying?!” she shouted, the rage in her voice a stark contrast to her pain.
I paced, my own voice shaky. “Dillon and I came to an agreement—”
That only seemed to make things worse.
“Dillon knew?” She looked at me in disbelief, tears streaming down her face, her eyes wide with shock.
“Dillon knew what?” His voice cut through the tension, and I turned to see him walking toward us, fear in his eyes.
“Did you know my mom was sick?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Baby, I—”
“I didn’t ask you that.Yes or no.Did you know?” she demanded, her voice cracking.
He looked down at the floor, unable to hide the truth.
It was the first time I’d seen Dillon this broken since his grandparents died. I’d never seen him so visibly destroyed.
“You heard me talk about how sick she looked for months, and you didn’t tell me. You knew everything was happening and didn’t fucking tell me!” she screamed, her voice trembling with rage and heartbreak.
Dillon’s face went pale, regret and guilt swirling in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his throat.
“Baby, I’m s—”
“Get out!” she screamed, her voice breaking, fury and pain laced through every syllable.“Both of you.”
We exchanged a glance, then sighed, the sadness in our hearts weighing us down.
“Precious, let’s just—”
“Get out! I don’t want to see either of you right now!” she insisted, desperation and anger thick in her voice.
“I can’t leave you here,” Dillon protested, concern heavy in his tone. “Not when you’re—”
“If you love me as much as I know you do, you’ll get the hell out of here,” she demanded, her words sharp with heartbreak and rage.
“Dillon,” I whispered, “Let’s go. I’ll ask another doctor to sedate her, and we’ll go from there.”
He hesitated, but neither of us had the energy for any more arguments. Reluctantly, we left. I asked another doctor to check on her, reassuring Dillon that someone reliable would be with her.
“Let’s sit in silence. Ms. Leann liked the quiet,” I said quietly.
Dillon looked at me, tears in his eyes. “Ronan. I—”
“I said silence.Per favore,81” I pleaded, and so we sat, the hours stretching painfully.
Seven agonizing days had passed since Ms. Leann’s death, andthe weight of her absence pressed on me harder than I ever expected. Grief had a way of sneaking up on you, slipping into parts of your heart you never knew were vulnerable.
I just…
