Page 167 of Halo

“You bet, buddy, and—” she lowers her voice to me—“I watched them make them far, far away from the nuts.”

Good thing. Grady already has the bag open with his fingers wrapped around one.

“Partner,” I warn. “What do we say?”

“Thank you, Aunt Tate.” He lifts the donut hole toward his mouth.

“Ah-ah.” I point at it. “What else do we ask when someone besides Dad gives you something to eat?”

He pauses. “Does this have any nuts?”

“There you go.” I ruffle his hair and open his milk. “Now you can dig in.” I glance back over to Tatum. “Thanks again for doing this. I … wasn't sure if I should’ve just kept him home today or—”

“No.” Leah collects all of the crayons and places them in their box. “Quite a bit has changed—and is going to keep changing. School is familiar and will be a good distraction.”

Tatum nods. “And I’ll be there at dismissal. And I do believe we playdate with Vera and Birdie. It's going to be a good day.”

Grady looks up, his cheek stuffed with half a donut hole. “I have library today.”

Leah smiles. “Pick out a book for us to read tonight.”

“Leah …”

“What?” She lowers her voice. “The surgery will be about an hour, and they'll have me up and walking this afternoon.”

We stare at each other for a few moments.

“Well, I think we better head out.” Tatum grabs Grady’s jacket and helps him shove his arms through the sleeves. “Come on, big guy. We’ve got words to sound out.”

Grady hugs both Leah and me before taking Tatum’s hand and leaving the pre-op area.

The warmth seems to leave with them, the antiseptic sterility of the hospital seeping back into every corner.

I stare at Leah's monitors and IV fluids out of habit.

Sinus eighty-eight.

Pressure’s good.

Sat ninety-nine on room air.

Probably a standard propofol induction with fentanyl and roc—

“Nick?” Her fingers slip into my hand. “Come back to me.”

I slowly lower myself to the edge of her bed. I tuck a loose wisp of hair back into her French braid before kissing her forehead. “I'm here.”

She holds my hand against her cheek. “Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

She kisses my knuckles. “Please don’t become that guy.”

My brow furrows. “What guy?”

“The guy who gets cancer right along with me. Who worries when I’m tired, panics when something hurts, starts measuring our whole life by appointments and scans.” Her eyes search mine. “I don’t want this thing to take you, too. I need somewhere in my life where I’m still just Leah.”

My eyes burn as I turn my face into her palm and kiss the center of it. “Darlin’, you forget.” I look back at her. “You’re my whole world.”