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Entirely too reckless, I know. But all logic has flown out the window, and my brain has officially shut itself off.
I’m so damn angry. I’m angry at the doctor. I’m angry at my dad.
How could he do this? How could he decide this all on his own? How could he choose to leave us, to leave his family? How could he choose to die?
The doctor’s words linger with a sharp sting, making my head spin along with the room.
Compromised bone marrow function. Unable to fight infections. Body is weak. Shutting down. Lucky to make it another week.
Another week. A week. A week? That’s all the time I have left with my wonderful, hilarious, compassionate dad? Vivi’s only grandparent?
No. I refuse to accept that. It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.
Nausea chooses that moment to rear its ugly head, and I’m not sure if it’s due to the hormones, or the fact that I’m overwhelmed with a grief so deep I can’t see properly.
I just barely make it to the bathroom in time to empty the contents of my stomach—a whole lot of nothing—into the toilet. I’m empty, but it keeps coming, and I’m just dry heaving, fingers turning white as I grip the edge of the toilet and just beg myself to hang on.
Everything hurts, every bone in my body, every muscle.
But nothing hurts as much as that vital organ that’s currently cracking wide open at the thought of never seeing my dad again, never jumping into his arms when I pull into the driveway, never having him call me my girl again.
The tears are merciless, rolling with no inclination to stop, and all I can do is rest my cheek on the cool toilet seat and sob.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register the sound of the front door clicking open, the soft whispers in the living room, the quiet but quick pad of footsteps through the hall. But I can’t stop crying, can’t lift my head, can’t do anything. I don’t feel anything at all except utter heartbreak and disappointment, rage with a god who deems it okay to take both of my parents way too young.
“Claire.”
I hear Avery’s quiet voice, that low baritone sinking into my bones, and while it washes over me with an eerie sense of calm, I can’t do this right now. He can’t see me like this, falling apart over a toilet bowl. I’m furious, I’m sad, I’m hurt, I’m…destroyed. I’m fucking destroyed. And I’m going to take it out on him like I always do, because that’s my biggest fault—not knowing how the hell to communicate my feelings in my deepest, darkest moments. In the midst of my greatest struggles, when all I need is the love and support of my people, what I do best is push them all away.
“Oh, baby.” I feel the warmth of his body as he sinks to the floor behind me, feel his gentle but firm touch as his fingers dust over my shoulder, wrapping around my neck. His other palm rests heavily on my back, a simple reminder that he’s here, that I’m not alone.
Except that I want to be. Well, maybe I don’t want to be, but I should be.
So maybe that’s why I shrug away from his touch and spring to my feet. It’s probably not the best decision, because saliva coats the inside of my cheeks and my head spins. I want to vomit again, but there’s nothing left, and I refuse to do this in front of Avery.
“Don’t,” I grind out, pushing by him.
“Claire, I—”
“No!” I reel on him, trying to stay steady on my feet. “I didn’t need you three months ago, I didn’t need you last night, and I don’t need you now!” The lie is blatant and bitter, but I keep going. “Just leave me alone!”
He doesn’t even miss a beat. If my words hurt him, he doesn’t show it. “No.”
I blink up at him as my heart pounds in my ears and my throat tightens. “What?”
His arms fold over his broad chest as he looms over me, backing me into the hallway. “I said no. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not leaving you alone. You do need me.”
“No, I…No.” I shake my head, hands at my throat. “I…Avery.” Oh God, what am I even trying to say? I stumble backwards into the wall as he pushes forward. With my palms on his chest, I shove him as hard as I can. He doesn’t even budge. “No! D-don’t touch me! Don’t, Avery! I don’t need you!”
My head swivels to where Charlee and Casey stand in the living room, watching us. The broken look on my brother’s face tells me I’m making an impossible situation all the more difficult, but I don’t know how to be what he needs right now.
I don’t even know how to be what I need.
I’m fractured, in pieces I’m not sure how to put back together. Will they ever fit again? How can someone love all the jagged pieces?
“I-I-I-I…Oh, God.” I bury my face in my hands, sobbing. I can’t do this. I’m falling apart. I can’t even speak anymore. Nothing’s working. A connection has been severed somewhere, I’m sure of it.
Avery’s fingers wrap around my wrists, pulling me into his chest.
