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Fuck.
What would the code be for Emily’s floor?
I think back to the art gallery. There was nothing there that seemed especially significant as far as dates go. I punch in the street address number. Nothing. Okay, so it’s not the location of the art gallery. I try her birthday. Nothing. I start to sweat as I realize I won’t have a lot more time to get this all figured out. Someone is going to push the elevator for another floor at any moment and then I’ll be on my way back down to the lobby.
What else could it be?
She has three sons, but it wouldn’t be the number “3” because I have to enter four digits.
Crap.
I close my eyes and wish upon an invisible star, and then it comes to me. In my reading this morning, I saw that her husband passed away. Could it be his birthday? I don’t think the article listed that, but it did list the day of his death.
Part of me hopes that it’s not the right number because I know just how hard losing your partner is. It might be normal to try to forget and to move on, but I don’t think you ever really do. Did Emily program his date of death as a way to remember him every single morning when she comes to work?
With a sigh, I punch in the numbers.
The elevator starts to move.
Chapter Five
Trevor
“I was going to tell you,” our mother says.
“When?” Lee asks. His voice comes out cracked and broken. “When were you going to tell us you were sick? When you had to go to the hospital? When it was over? When you were gone?”
My brother’s voice sounds pained, but it reflects what we’re all feeling inside. My mother has a serious illness and she didn’t bother to tell any of us.
And I think we all want to know why.
I think we deserve to know why.
We’ve already lost one parent. Losing another one so soon seems like a cruel joke. It has to be a joke.
My mother sighs and leans back in her chair. Ever the businesswoman, we rarely see her relaxed or having fun. Since my father passed away, she’s thrown herself into work. I don’t blame her at all. When I lost Anna, I did the same thing. Work was the only thing that sort of took the pain away.
There’s a deep sense of loss that comes when your partner doesn’t just leave, but dies. There are no bad feelings there, because the relationship didn’t end by choice. It didn’t end because you wanted it to be over. The relationship ended because somebody actually died. It’s the ultimate death. Not only do you lose the companionship, but you lose them.
There’s no chance of ever getting back together in the future.
There are no drunken texts sent.
You can’t accidentally bump into them at the supermarket.
No, when your partner dies, they’re just gone, and it’s worse than losing your companion. If you aren’t careful, you lose a part of yourself, too. At least, I did.
I think my mother has, too.
She and my father were more than just husband and wife. They were wolf mates. They were from different packs and different worlds, but somehow, they found each other and fell in love. My mother still wears the necklace that bears their Tokens. Hers is a bright ruby and my father’s Token is a sapphire, like mine. Together, the necklace gives her comfort and power.
She knows that no matter what happens, my father really isn’t so far away.
She knows she’s always connected to him.
No matter what happens to her, she’ll always have him close to her heart.
“It’s not like that,” my mother finally says. She touches the necklace, fiddling with it.
