Page 122 of Molt

I kneel beside her. “I’m here.”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m already gone.”

“You’re not.”

She smiles weakly. “You always were a terrible liar.”

My throat closes. “I’ll get another doctor.”

“No.”

“I’ll go to Boston.”

“August.”

“New York.”

“August.”

“Anywhere.”

She lifts a hand. It barely reaches me.

I take it into my grip. God she’s so fucking cold.

“I don’t want to die with you running out the door.”

The words destroy me.

So I sit near her.

She traces my knuckles. “Stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I assure her.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Her breathing becomes slower. “No.”

I squeeze her hand. “No.”

She smiles at me. “You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“Trying to argue about something you can’t win.”

“I can win.”

“Not this.”

“Watch me.”