“Dad…” My voice cracks, and the tears spill over.
“I love you, Cam,” he whispers, his grip on my hand loosening.
His breathing grows shallow, each exhale weaker than the last.And then, it stops.
The heart monitor lets out a long, steady beep, and the silence that follows is deafening.
“Dad?”I choke out, shaking his hand gently.
My mother breaks into sobs, clutching his face in her hands as if willing him to wake up.I feel my knees go weak, and I lean forward, burying my face in my hands.
The door creaks open, and I feel familiar arms wrap around me.Fox.His presence is steady and grounding, a lifeline in the storm.
“He’s gone,” I sob into his chest.
“I know,” he whispers, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back.“I’m here.I’ve got you.”
The sky is a heavy gray, mirroring the mood of the day.A light drizzle falls, soaking into the freshly turned earth at the cemetery.
The funeral is small—family friends, neighbors, and my father’s colleagues.My mother stands beside me, her hand clutching mine tightly.Fox is on my other side, his presence a quiet but steady comfort.
The pastor speaks about my father’s life, his accomplishments, and his unwavering faith.But my mind drifts, caught in a whirlwind of memories—his stern lectures, his rare but warm laughter, the moments of connection that were too few and too far between.
As they lower the casket into the ground, a lump forms in my throat.I feel Fox’s hand on my back, grounding me.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear.
I take a deep breath, trying to hold it together.But when the first shovel of dirt hits the casket, the sound is too much.The sobs break free, and I let them.
My mother pulls me into her arms, both of us clinging to each other as we cry.I hear Fox’s voice, low and soothing, telling me it’s okay to grieve, to let it out.
When the ceremony ends, people come up to offer their condolences.I nod, thanking them mechanically, but my mind is elsewhere.
As the crowd thins, I stay behind, standing at the edge of the grave.Fox is beside me, silent but present.
“I didn’t think it would hurt this much,” I admit, my voice raw.
“He was your father,” Fox says.“No matter what happened between you, it’s okay to grieve.”
I nod, leaning into him.His arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me close.
“I think he was proud of you,” Fox adds.“He just didn’t know how to show it.”
I smile faintly through the tears.“Yeah… maybe.”
We stand there for a while, the drizzle turning into a steady rain.But I don’t care.For the first time in a long time, I feel a strange sense of peace.
Law school is as challenging as I expected, but it’s what I’ve always wanted, and I’m determined to make it through.Life without Fox around every day is hard, but we’ve made it work.Today, though, is a special day—Fox’s 27th birthday.Blaze and I planned a surprise party, even though Fox hates birthday celebrations.
“I still can’t believe you’re 27,” I tease as we drive back to our apartment after seeing his favorite movie.
“Time flies,” he says with a chuckle.“But you’re still a nerd.”
“Fuck you, Wilder,” I retort, laughing.
“Yeah,” he murmurs with a smirk, “that’s exactly what I’ll be doing tonight.”
I blush, biting my bottom lip.“You’re such a pervert.”
