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“No,” I cry weakly. “I don’t…I don’t…”
“You do,” he whispers, warm lips touching the crown of my head. “And it’s okay. I need you too, you know. It’s not one-sided. Charlee needs you. Casey needs you. Vivi needs you.” He pauses. “Your dad needs you. Claire, we all need each other, and we’re stronger together.”
“I’m so angry,” I weep, smashing my forehead off his chest as my body vibrates so violently I feel it all the way down to the tips of my toes.
“I know, sweetheart.”
“He lied to us!”
“He did.”
“He’s dying!”
“He is.”
I want Avery to deny it, all of it, any of it. I want him to tell me I have no reason to be angry. I want him to tell me my dad would never lie to me, that he’s not dying, that it’s not too late for him to start chemo.
But he doesn’t. He hears my pain, sees it, feels it, and he just takes it all. And in that moment, I know—my pain is his pain.
I look up at Avery’s smooth chocolate eyes, the tenderness they hold, the ones I’ve been denying myself of, and I break. My fingers crawl up his chest, gripping the collar of his shirt. “A week,” I choke out. “The doctor said we’d be lucky to get one more week with him. I’m terrified, Avery. Terrified.”
His hand comes up to cup my cheek, the pad of his thumb wiping at my tears, fingers pushing back the hair that’s plastered to my wet face. “I know, honey. I know.” Hauling me forward, Avery tips my chin up, searching my eyes. “Don’t spend it being angry with him. Spend it showing him how much you love him, how you’re the strong, feisty, compassionate woman you are today because of the dad he is and the love he’s always surrounded you with.”
His soft lips meet both of my cheeks, kissing at the tears that won’t stop falling. My arms wind around him as I bury my face in his chest and fall apart in the tight hold of the man who makes me feel nothing but so wildly loved.
“He’s going, Claire, but that doesn’t mean he’s leaving. He’ll never leave.”
It’s dinner by the time I have enough strength to creep back into my dad’s room at the hospital, and even then, I’m dragging myself.
I peek my head through the door, holding up a tray of drinks and a greasy paper bag, because if he’s only got a week left, he deserves to eat all the food he loves, not hospital slop.
Dad’s chuckle is quiet but hearty, and it makes something in my chest flutter. “Is that your version of a white flag?”
“Yes,” I squeak out, moving into the room. “And an apology.”
His Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow, and when he blinks, a single tear rolls down each cheek. “Come here, my beautiful girl.”
Ditching the food, I crawl onto his bed, curling up at his side. The tears come immediately, soaking his neck while his fingers stroke my hair, my cheek, my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Dad. I’m so sorry I yelled at you and ran out of here.”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” he whispers. “Don’t you dare. You’re allowed to feel every emotion you’re feeling, and you’re allowed to be angry with me. I wasn’t honest with you.”
“But why?”
He’s quiet for a minute. “Because you would have convinced me to stay and fight.”
“Why?” I beg quietly. “Why won’t you? I don’t want you to go, Daddy.”
His sigh is heavy, and when I hear him sniffle, my heart breaks a little more. I look up at his cobalt blue eyes, weathered and tired.
“I’m tired, Claire. So damn tired of fighting. My body is exhausted.”
I know. I know all that. I see it all. But I want to be selfish. I want him to do it for me, for Casey, for Vivi, for the grandbaby he’ll never get to meet. I want him to fight.
But more than that, I don’t want him to be in pain.
“I’m not ready to say goodbye.”
