When I Was Theirs

27. Emmy

27

Emmy

S itting up, I slowly push the blankets away.

The apartment is silent. Ben is still sleeping, Jared sprawled in the chair beside him when I look over. I listen for a moment as I always do, reassured when I hear the rasp of Ben’s breathing.

Frowning, I glance down.

How did I get here?

Ben coughs, distracting me.

“Ben?” I keep my voice low as I approach. His eyes are open this morning, deep brown unaffected by haze.

“Hey, you.” His dimple flashes as he smiles at me. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “We should do your meds.”

His smile doesn’t dim as he shakes his head. “Not today, Em. I’m good.”

My brows dip. “Are you sure?”

“Stop worrying.” His voice… It's teasing. Lighter, somehow. His eyes slip to Jared. “Both of you. Pair of worriers.”

A low voice, hoarse with sleep, rumbles. “But you make it so easy.”

Jared’s eyes land on me when they open. He shifts them to Ben as he straightens with a yawn, assessing him. “You look brighter today.”

I study Ben at Jared’s words.

He does look brighter.

Ben grins at us both, the smile stretching across his face. “Couldn’t be better. Fancy a run?”

Jared’s smile is the barest quirk of his lips. “Wouldn’t want you to embarrass me.”

Ben huffs a laugh. “I’m actually pretty hungry.”

My hand tightens against the bed railing. My heart starts to pound. “You are?”

“Yeah.” He sounds a little disbelieving as he pats his stomach. “I think I could manage a little bit of something. Maybe… pancakes?”

He gives me a pleading look. “You make great pancakes, Em.”

I really don't.

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Sure. I’ll need to go to the store.”

“That’s okay.” He turns to his brother. “I need to talk to Jar for a minute anyway. I’ll be okay.”

“Okay.”

My voice is a whisper, but Ben doesn’t notice. He falls into conversation with Jared, the low rise and fall of his voice following me like a taunt, as I slip out and make a run to the store for pancake ingredients.

He hasn’t eaten properly for days.

Maybe he’s just hungry.

Or maybe—

Maybe—

I pull out my phone, dialing Nicole’s number.

She answers on the second ring. “Emmy?”

“Hi.” I swallow hard. “Ben wants pancakes this morning. He seems… better, maybe?”

Silence.

“Oh, Emmy,” Nicole murmurs. “You remember what I told you?”

I’m shaking my head. “But this is good – he’s so talkative this morning, and his brother is here, and he just looks so alive …,”

My voice trails off.

I know what this is.

“Terminal lucidity,” I whisper. That’s what Nicole called it, when she described it to me. “The surge. It’s nearly time, isn’t it?”

Nicole hesitates. “There’s never a set timeline, sweetheart. But… maybe, yes. That can be a sign.”

I stare blankly at the door to the store. “What do I do?”

“Make the pancakes, Emmy,” Nicole says gently. “Get back as quickly as you can and enjoy this time with him. Listen to him. Talk to him.”

Because it doesn’t last.

And after—

“I have to go,” I say numbly. “Can you… could you come later? Just to check on him? He didn’t want his medication this morning.”

It’s only Wednesday.

It feels like a betrayal, to bring a hospice visit forward.

I’m barely aware of what I’m buying before I’m racing back, taking the stairs two at a time with the brown paper bag gripped in my hands.

I can hear laughter. Stopping on the other side of the door, I press my ear against it.

Listening to Ben laugh.

I pull up the neck of my sweatshirt and use it to wipe my face before I go in. They both turn to look at me, and I pause, taken aback. “You really do look alike.”

I didn’t see it at first. But Jared’s face is lit up with amusement, both of their heads tilted toward each other.

“The Bennett boys.” Ben’s smile still has the ability to take my breath away. He winks at me. “Careful, Emmy. Jared’s a heartbreaker. You should hear him on the guitar.”

“I’m not surprised.” I mutter the words as I duck into the kitchen. “He’s a lethal fucking weapon.”

“Need a hand?”

Jared looks amused when I swivel, my mouth opening. I didn’t realize he’d followed. “Uh… no. Stay with Ben.”

He pauses, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve been crying.”

Shit.

Spinning, I start unpacking the bags. “I’m fine. Please, go back in. Stay with him.”

“Tell me.”

His hand brushes my elbow before he pulls it back. “Please, Em- Emilia.”

He stutters over my name.

“Em?”

“Pancakes coming up,” I call. I swipe my hand over my face.

“He’s good today,” Jared breathes. “This is a good day? He’s not always like this?”

I should wait for Nicole. She can explain this far better than me.

But he might not last. Not like this.

“There’s something called the surge.” I reach behind me, hold onto the counter as Jared steps closer to listen. “It’s also called terminal lucidity. When someone is close to – close to the end, they can have this surge of energy.”

Jared stares at me, unblinking.

“They’re talkative,” I whisper. “Increased energy, alertness. Sometimes… They ask for their favorite foods. It doesn’t last long. A few hours, maybe. Or less.”

I’m crying again. I can feel the tears on my face as Jared stumbles back, shaking his head. “That… this isn’t that.”

“Maybe not.” I wipe at my face again. “But you need to go back in, Jared. Stay with him.”

“What about you?”

I force a smile. “He wants pancakes.”

He’s going to get the best pancakes he’s ever had.