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"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.
Ryan exhales. "I don't even know what to say."
He comes over to me, sits down on the couch beside me, and pulls me into his chest. He strokes my hair idly, Tex begging for pets between us.
"My dad had a massive stroke," Ryan murmurs. "He's in the hospital, finally awake...but he's having trouble speaking."
"Ryan...I'm so sorry," I whisper.
"I don't know what my mom will do if he..."
Ryan trails off, shaking his head like he can't form the words.
"You don't have to finish that thought," I say, squeezing his hand. "When are you leaving?"
"Tomorrow morning. Early."
"Do you want me to watch Tex?"
"Actually..." he frowns, meeting my eyes. "I was wondering if you would come with me."
My heart flips in my chest at the request. I know it's not just about wanting me there for moral support. Ryan wants me with him because he trusts me—because he knows I'll have his back no matter what.
"Of course," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'll pack a bag."
Ryan's face softens, relief washing over him. "Thank you," he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
We sit in silence for a few moments, Tex snuggled between us. I can feel Ryan's heart beating against my back, steady and strong. It's hard to believe that someone so kind and caring could be going through something so traumatic.
"I can't lose him," Ryan murmurs, his voice shaking slightly. "He's my dad."
"I know," I whisper. "But he's strong. He'll pull through this."
We sit like that for a while, holding each other close and trying to find solace in each other's presence. Eventually, Ryan pulls away, his eyes focused and determined.
"We should start packing," he says, standing up from the couch. "We have a long day tomorrow."
I nod, following him toward the bedroom. My bag is already mostly packed since I've been migrating stuff over here from my place for the past week. Ryan is frantic as he grabs stuff to toss in a duffel, and I move carefully toward him and take his hand in mine.
"Let me pack for you," I say. "Can I do that?"
He ruffles his hair. "Shit...sorry, Soph, it's just giving me something to do."
I nod. "I understand. How can I help?"
He looks up at me, his green eyes looking bluer than ever. I haven't seen him cry, which worries me a bit—even though he's my strong, protective man, this feels like a situation where I would be screaming.
After what feels like ages of just looking at me, Ryan drops everything and takes my arms in his hands, resting his forehead against mine. "You're doing everything perfectly already," he says. "Just...keep doing it."
"I want to do more."
He heaves a sigh. "I think that's the problem. In this situation...I can't fix it. My parents are old. I'm going to lose them eventually, sooner than later. I don't know what to do, Sophia."
I wrap my arms around Ryan's neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. "You don't have to fix it," I say softly. "You just have to be there for them and yourself. It's okay to feel scared and helpless, Ryan. It's human."
He rests his cheek on my shoulder, his breath hot and heavy against my skin. "It's just hard," he whispers.
"I know," I say, brushing my fingers through his hair. "But you don't have to go through this alone. I'm here for you, and so is your family."
