Page 153 of What Should Have Been Ours

9. If one of us gets out of here first, they are required to do something ridiculously cool in honor of the other.

(Like skydiving. Or stealing a hospital wheelchair and riding it into the sunset.)

I’m sorry I didn’t make it out this time, baby, but you did. So please do all the crazy things you want in life. You only get one chance.

10. This club lasts forever. No matter what.

(Even if we get old. Even if we live in different places. Even if one of us becomes a boring adult. Secret Sick Kid Club is for life.)

For life, Gabs…for this life and the one after.

I clutch it to my chest, unable to breathe, unable to believe he kept it all these years, unable to process the happiness he’s still bringing me, even as I’m drowning in the pain of it all.

Beneath it lies two packets of hot chocolate at the bottom of the box, and a sticky note attached.

**Good days call for hot chocolate, bad days require it.

I hope you have more good hot chocolate days than bad, my love.

Drink one for me.

P.S. If you don’t add extra marshmallows, I’ll come back to haunt you.**

A broken laugh slips from my lips, mixing with my tears.

But then, I see something else at the bottom of the box.

A small collar.

And in the middle—a key.

I blink, confused, then look up at Wes.

He just smiles and stands. “You’ll have to see this part for yourself.”

* * *

The car ride is quiet, and the streets are dark as Wes drives us outside of the city. When we pull up, I see it—a house glowing in the night, soft light spilling from inside, string lights woven through the backyard you can see from the side. It’s small and so cute, so me.

Wes hands me another note.

Gabrielle, my love, my favorite girl.

I know you’re probably confused right now. And before you start yelling at me in your head about how unfair this seems, just hear me out.

This was supposed to be our home…

And now it’s your home.

I started looking for houses like the ones you talked about wanting when we first found our way back to each other, back when I knew—without a doubt—that forever with you was the only option. I pictured us here, filling these rooms with laughter, with late-night conversations, with so many lazy mornings and way too many takeout nights because neither of us wanted to cook.

When I got sick, I knew I would never get to move in with you like I planned. But that didn’t change the fact that you deserved a home (our home) even if I wasn’t here to carry the boxes inside with you. Even if I wasn’t here to make it ours. It still is. I want you to build a life here.

After buying the house, I started to hate thinking about you being alone in it, coming home to silence when it should have been filled with stupid inside jokes, my terrible dancing in the kitchen, and me stealing all the blankets at night. So, I wanted to leave you with a friend—someone to make sure you always have company, someone to cuddle with when you’re thinking about me.

Wes has been hiding her away for me for a while now.

You always did love the therapy dogs at the hospital. The way they made everything feel lighter, even on the hardest days. I hope she can be that for you.