Page 125 of The Wrong Side Of Us

The woman smiled down at me, her hand cupping my cheek softly. “I’m so happy to see you again, my precious girl.”

“Nana,” I breathed, blinking past my tears. I didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe. She was there, in front of me. I could see her. I could feel her. Raising my hand, I covered hers over my cheek, closing my eyes when I realized this was real. Nana pulled me into her arms, embracing me with strength and love, surrounding me with peace.

Those comforting arms.

I cried into her shoulder, hugging her tightly because I didn’t want to let her go.

I’d let her go once already. I couldn’t do it again. “You’re with me, Nana,” I sobbed, hugging her tightly.

She pulled away, smiling warmly, but with sadness. “And you shouldn’t be here.”

“But I’m with you,” I said, wiping away my tears. “I’m finally with you and—”

She stopped me. “And if you’re with me, what does that mean?”

Nana paused, letting me draw my own conclusions. A chill surrounded me as I finally understood what was happening. “Am I dead?”

“Why are you here?” she asked again, squeezing my hand tightly, her eyebrows furrowing, lips tilting down. “You shouldn’t be here, Evelyn, not yet.”

“I remember fighting,” I said brokenly, the memories fuzzy. “And then I was tired, just so tired and—”

“And?”

With a shaky breath, I averted my gaze.

It was easier to stop.

It was easier to rest.

Now you’re here.

Now there’s no going back.

“That little girl…who is she?”

Nana smiled. “Oh, you know who she is.”

She placed an arm over my shoulder as she turned us around to face in the direction of the little girl who still played, this time barefoot on the grass, chasing after butterflies, giggling without stop.

Happy.

“She’s my daughter,” I said, my voice breaking. “She’s my baby.”

“She’s your baby,” Nana said proudly. “Looks just like you when you were that age, but those eyes…they’re all Nathan.”

I placed my hand over my chest when the same sense of sadness took over, this time more intense. My heart beat, but it was slow…weak.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“A lot,” I admitted, wishing the pain away. It wouldn’t disappear, though; in fact, it grew and grew, to the point where it was getting harder to breathe. “Why does it hurt?”

“It’s their pain,” Nana said, holding my other hand, squeezing it in comfort. “It’s the pain of the people you’re leaving behind, the pain of those who love you. They are hurting, knowing that you are leaving them. They are hurting because they need you.”

“Why can I feel it?” I whimpered, holding on to my chest tightly. It was too much.

“Because leaving those who you love isn’t easy. It hurts. It’s heart wrenching. It’s a reminder that there are always people who care, always people who love you.”

I glanced up at her, unable to see her clearly with the tears clouding my vision. “But you left anyway.”

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