His smile grew, but his eyes seemed heavy.

“Good girl,” he replied.

She lifted her gaze to mine as if noticing the same thing.

“Rest your eyes, Uncle D. We’re gonna get comfortable and hang out here. We will be waiting to talk more when you wake up,” I told him.

He nodded and his eyes closed. But as they did, he reached his hand out to mine and patted it gently.

I was glad his eyes were closed when the tears I was fighting back finally broke free and rolled down my face.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

VALE

UNCLE D DIDN’T open his eyes again that day. I called my mother to come get me and drive me back to campus. Slate couldn’t leave. I didn’t want to abandon him there, but I intended to come back after work tomorrow. I’d have to explain to Crawford, but I couldn’t let Slate deal with this alone. He had looked so lost when I left. I asked Mom to take him something to eat and visit with him tomorrow until I could get back.

She had promised she would.

Later that night my phone rang, and I quickly answered it.

“It’s Slate.” His voice was hoarse and I gripped the phone tightly. Afraid of why he was calling. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I just needed to talk.”

The panic eased, and I went into the bathroom so I wouldn’t disturb Jude as she slept.

“I was awake,” I assured him.

“Your mom came by late with a slice of chocolate cake and a big glass of milk. It was nice.” I hadn’t known she was taking him anything tonight. But I was thankful she had.

“Good. Has he opened his eyes?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer.

“No,” he replied. “Doctor says he doubts he will again.”

I wanted to be there. I wanted to hug him. I hated him being alone right now. If Knox hadn’t started his job at the bar in town, he’d have gone with us today. But he had to work evenings.

“I should be there by two tomorrow at the latest,” I said.

“Thank you. It’s hard being alone. Watching him breathe. Wondering if he’s hurting or just resting. I want him to go peacefully. What if I hadn’t gotten here when I did? What if he’d closed his eyes and I didn’t get to see him one more time?”

“He was waiting on you, Slate. He was fighting it because he was waiting on you. Seeing you was what he needed. That pat on your hand was his way of telling you he loved you.”

I heard him inhale deeply. I hadn’t meant to upset him. Just reassure him. “I should have told him I loved him,” he said.

“He knew. Your actions were enough.”

“He should have gotten the words,” Slate argued.

Sometimes we don’t get that. “You didn’t know it was the last time you’d get to speak to him. He’s resting now because he knows you are there and he is loved.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then I could hear him move around. “Thanks, I needed to hear that.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied.

“And, Vale?” he said.

“Yes?”

He paused, then sighed. “Never mind. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING, work was hard to get through because my mind was somewhere else. Worrying about Slate and how he was handling things. My mother texted me when she arrived at the hospital to let me know she was with him. That helped. But I still wanted to be there.

I had called Crawford the day before to explain what was going on, but he hadn’t answered his phone. It was the last Saturday before game season began, and I knew he had practiced hard all day. I typed out a text explaining it and told him to call after twelve. I was working this morning. Again, something else we hadn’t talked about. I wasn’t even sure he knew about my job. The last two times we chatted he told me all about what he was doing but didn’t actually ask about me.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized it had always been that way. Crawford liked to talk about himself, and I had liked to listen. I never wanted attention or the spotlight and I knew he did. It had been okay then. But since waking up, that bothered me. Along with so many other things.

Isla asked me several times at work if I was okay. She noticed my mood and I liked that about her. She paid attention and cared. I explained a friend’s uncle was dying. I needed to leave as soon as I could to get to the hospital. It was slow by eleven, so she told me to go on.

When I pulled up to the hospital, my phone rang and it was Crawford. I parked and answered.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey, so you got a job?”

“Yeah. I need to work and help my parents with my costs, like Knox does.” He hadn’t asked about Slate’s uncle first. I found that odd. It was the bigger issue.

“I just woke up an hour ago. I was going to come get you for brunch, but I got your text. So, you know this Slate guy that well? I thought he was Knox’s friend.”

The touch of jealousy in his tone didn’t go unnoticed. I almost mentioned the herd of women surrounding him this week but didn’t. It was pointless and I didn’t have the time or energy for the argument that would start.

“He read to me when I was in a coma. Gave my family a break regularly and brought them coffee and muffins. That makes him my friend, too. Even if our friendship started while I was asleep.”

He was silent for a moment. I let him think about what I’d said, and hopefully he’d have a reasonable response.

“You know his reputation, don’t you? I mean, you don’t want to be heaped in the pile with those girls. People will assume that’s what you are.”

I gripped the phone a little too tightly in my hand. I couldn’t blow up on him. That wasn’t fair. He had his concerns and I needed to let him have them. But I wasn’t bending to his will. Those days were over.

“He is my friend. He needs a friend right now. I don’t care who says what. I know the truth and that’s all that matters. Do you have a problem with that?” My tone had gotten snappy and I could tell he was startled by it.

“Uh, no. I guess I don’t.”

“Good. Mom’s in there with him now. I need to go. I’ll text you when I’m headed back.” I almost added that we could get together but didn’t. Because I wasn’t sure I’d be in the mood to see him. Not after what I was about to face.

Ending the call the way we had for years, we said, “I love you,” but this time it felt different. Like I didn’t truly mean it. I shoved those thoughts from my head and made my way inside.

My mom sat in a chair beside the window and Slate sat beside his uncle. He had one of Uncle D’s hands in his. When I stepped inside, his head turned to me and I saw gratitude and relief. My mom was there, but it was me he needed.

“Hey,” I said, walking over to him. “How’s he been?”

Slate sighed. “The same.” He glanced over at my mother, who was watching us. “Your mom has been great. I just wish I had more of an appetite to eat the food she brought. What I could eat was really good.”

“There’s more where that came from. You just eat when you can,” she said gently.

“Thank you,” Slate told her.

“Mom, you go on. I’ll stay until tonight.”

She stood up and walked over to Slate. With a squeeze from her hand on his shoulder she said, “Your uncle is a lucky man. He is loved by you and he knows it.”