We release each other, a bit awkwardly, and I nod toward the house. “Tell Mia I said bye, all right? I didn’t want to upset her.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll tell her in the morning.”

“And don’t tell Tessa where I am. I don’t want her coming for me.”

He looks like he wants to say more, or possibly beat the shit out of me for making him feel like this, but he simply drops his head before turning toward the house. He gives me a final look over his shoulder when he reaches the door, and I think I see the understanding there, but the look is too fleeting to be certain.

One more stop before I can leave all this behind me.

***

“Sir, visiting hours ended at 8:00 p.m. You’ll have to come back tomorrow if you want to see him.”

I stare at my dad through the window of his hospital room. I’ve never been here this late before. It seems almost eerie how quiet the entire building is. Even the temperature seems colder. The chill of death, maybe, which is a morbid thought, but this is a hospital. People die. My mother would’ve died here if she hadn’t coded in the ambulance. This is where they were taking her.

“Sir?”

I turn my head, connecting with the older nurse standing next to me. She’s gripping a clipboard tightly, her pen tucked behind her ear.

I nod toward the window. “I won’t bother him. I just wanted to give him something really quick before I leave town.”

She purses her lips. “Sir, hospital rules. No visitors after 8:00 p.m.”

“Please,” I beg, sounding desperate. “I’m not going to see him again. He’s my dad; just let me say goodbye. I’ll be one minute.”

She looks conflicted, glancing around us before letting out a heavy breath. “One minute,” she echoes, and I know she isn’t playing. She’ll drag me out of this room as soon as those sixty seconds are up.

I won’t even need half that time.

I step into the room and move to the end of the bed. I take the bronze coin out of my pocket, the ten years sober AA chip I stole out of my father’s cigar box when I was fifteen, and look at the inscription on it one last time.

“To thine own self be true,” I read, turning the coin over in my hand. “What the fuck does that even mean? It should say something like you have a son who needs you, or don’t be a fucking coward and deal with your shit like a man.” I toss the coin onto the bed, watching it land on the white sheet. “I don’t know if you ever knew I took that. I think I always kept it ’cause I had hope I’d be giving it back to you at some bullshit ceremony, but I don’t have any hope for you anymore.”

The nurse enters the doorway, pointing at the clock on the wall and indicating with a finger that my time is nearly up.

I look back at my dad, watching his smooth breathing lift the white hospital blanket with the rise of his chest.

“I don’t just miss Mom. I miss a lot of shit. But I won’t stay here and watch you die. You made your choice, and I'm making mine.”

After my final words to him, I leave, brushing past the nurse who studies me with a curious frown.

The hospital seems even colder now. The dead silence surrounds me.

I wish I felt better about this. I wish this decision came with some sort of clarity, a sense of calm, or even reassurance that I’m doing the right thing.

But nothing comforts me as I leave Ruxton and everyone I’ve ever cared about.

I know I’m alone before I open my eyes, because I can’t feel Luke. My body would normally be touching some part of his, most likely all of it, or as much as I could wrap myself around if he’d stayed the night. So when I feel the cool satin of the pillow against my cheek instead of Luke’s warm body, I don’t even want to confirm what I know to be true.

He’s gone.

Because you pushed, Tessa. You always push him too far.

I cling to the pillow, burying my face in it to try and pick up some of his scent.

What I get isn’t enough. It’s never enough.

He gave me so much last night, more than he’s ever given me, and I still pried for that last piece of him. I should’ve held on and kept my mouth shut. Showed him how good it could be, having someone there for you when shit gets too heavy. A silent support. Then maybe he would’ve opened up more, or at least stayed.

The reason why I’m alone in this bed is my own damn fault. Not his.

Even though I know he isn’t here, I still walk through my apartment with that tiny shred of hope that he’s beaten me to the coffee maker. My naïve optimism fades the second I turn the Keurig on, and I stare at the dark liquid as it seeps into my mug, watching it mingle with the cream sitting at the bottom. I’m reminded of last night the second my hands wrap around the warm mug.

My tea.

I remember Luke leaving the bedroom to get it for me, but I don’t remember him coming back.

Did he come back? Or was that when he left?

I walk down the hallway, spotting my neglected tea on the nightstand by the bed. I carry the mug out into the kitchen and pour the contents down the drain, hating myself for missing that last second with him. I decide right then as the sink clears, his sweet gesture disappearing as if it didn’t happen, that I’m done pushing Luke for more. It’s moments like the one he gave me last night that matter; when we’re just together. Just us. Not the shit he’s trying to deal with on his own.

I love him. That’s enough. That will always be enough.

It’s daunting how easy that decision comes to me, like it’s been on reserve all this time. It feels right, and good. The way love should feel.

Everyone has something they’re afraid of. I never thought men like Luke, or my brother, men who risk their lives for others, who make it their job to protect people they don’t even know, would be afraid of anything. Luke said I made him feel things he never wanted to feel. Maybe that’s what he’s afraid of. If he lets himself love me, if he gives me every part of him, leaving himself vulnerable and I can’t take it, he could lose someone else.

Me.

I won’t let that happen. He’ll never be alone again.

I shower and get dressed as quickly as possible, not even bothering to put on any makeup. After downing my coffee, I grab my keys and purse off the table. My phone has half its battery life still, even though I didn’t charge it last night, and as I’m walking out the door, I notice the last call I received.

Mason.

After securing the fifth lock on the door, I stare down at the phone in my hand, thinking back to last night. I didn’t talk to Mason after he dropped me off. I may not remember Luke bringing me my tea, but I’d remember having a two-minute-and-forty-seven-second conversation on the phone.

Did Luke talk to him? Is that why he left? Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Does he think Mason and I are together?

Well, you did go on a fucking date with him, dumbass.

“Ugh!” I yell out, looking up at the sky as I press the heel of my hand against my forehead. I rush down the stairs to the ground floor, practically sprinting to my car. My thumb glides along the screen of my phone as my other hand inserts the keys into the ignition.

His voicemail picks up, and I decide against leaving a message. This should be said in person, and if he’s at the precinct, I’ll be able to tell him everything face to face. If he’s on patrol, I might be shit out of luck until tonight.