Page 536 of End Game

. Because apparently no one knows how to respond when the chronically ill person acknowledges the scary thing herself.

I swallow. “That is one of the reasons we're telling everybody now.”

Mom lowers herself back to the couch slowly.

Dad looks wrecked.

“If I hadn't been able to make decisions for myself, the hospital automatically went to Griffin.”

Neither says anything.

“The other three had to be documented as people allowed to get information. We realized we need legal paperwork. Powers of attorney. Emergency contacts. All of it.”

Dad's forehead creases. “That makes sense.”

“And if it had been Micah? Or Dex? Or Ronan? Their families could walk in and legally matter more than the people they live with and love.”

My voice softens. “We can't keep doing that.”

Mom looks toward Griffin.

Again.

This time I let her.

He is pale around the edges even weeks later when we talk about that night.

Something about her expression changes.

Not acceptance.

Maybe recognition that this isn't theoretical for him.

“You were there?” she asks.

Griffin nods. “Yes.”

“Clay said you work EMS.”

“I do.”

Her eyes shine again. “And you were the one who—”

“Ronan found her.”

The correction comes immediately.

Mom blinks.

Griffin continues. “He stayed with her until EMS arrived. He rode in with her. Micah got Dex to the hospital.”

He glances at me. “All of them were there.”

My heart squeezes painfully.

Mom has no response.

Good.