I just hope that I’m not too late.

I climb from the truck feeling stiff and grouchy from lack of sleep, but shove all of that to the back as I make my way inside. I have to ask for directions multiple times because this hospital is massive. After getting lost once and having to backtrack, I finally find where I need to be and ask the nurse at the desk what room my dad is in.

I pause at his closed door, preparing myself for whatever might be on the other side. No matter what happens, I have to be the strength my mother can rely on. I have to fill the role of protector, supporter, and leader that my father has always seamlessly filled. Squaring my shoulders, I pull in one last breath before knocking lightly and push the door open.

When I step inside, I’m amazed at how frail my father looks laying in the hospital bed. It’s both crushing and a relief because him lying there means that he’s still here. He’s still here to ask advice, to listen to me vent when I feel like things aren’t going my way, and to call me on my shit when I’m too inside my own head to realize I’m not being the man he knows I can be.

I step farther into the room and my mom rises from her seat, taking a few steps towards me before I’m there to gather her into my arms and tuck her against my chest. She squeezes me tightly, taking a deep breath as I rest my chin on the top of her head, letting her take as much comfort as she needs me to give.

“How is he?” I ask softly. “How are you?”

“We’re both better now that you’re here, Jay.” She smiles up at me with tears in her eyes and I squeeze her closer, not calling her out for using the nickname I hate for probably the first time in my life. “Triple bypass, but he made it out of the woods,” she says with a subtle nod towards my father.

“And after the recovery I’m sure he’ll go right back to being his stubborn ass self,” I joke, earning a smile just like I thought it would.

“You bet your ass I will,” comes from the other side of the room and Mom and I break apart.

“Dad,” I say as we move over to the bed and I take his hand into my own. “You scared the shit out of me, old man.” I can’t help the tears that burn my eyes, and he sports them as well as he grunts dismissively.

“Life is good at reminding us that we don’t live forever, kid. That’s why I’m always telling you to go after what you want, no matter what it takes.” He squeezes my hand and my heart clenches in my chest as well, feeling called out because I didn’t do that at all today.

“Not forever, but for as long as possible, okay? We aren’t ready to let you go yet.” I reach my other hand out to hold Mom’s, and she puts her other one over my hand, which is on my father’s.

“You don’t get to scare me like that again for a long time to come,” my mother chides, and we all chuckle, but my father winces.

“Get your rest, Dad. Before you know it they’ll be kicking you out of this joint and you’ll be right back to it at home.” He grunts his agreement and I squeeze his hand before pulling away.

“No rest for the wicked, my boy,” he winks at me, and I know in that moment, he’s truly going to be okay.

Playlist: "Here Comes The Sun," Abbey Road

I pull into my parent’s driveway far too many hours later with my mom in the passenger seat, and put the truck into park. We’re letting Dad rest for the night without us hovering over him now that he’s stabilized. He needs all the rest he can get, and we knew that he’d worry about us being comfortable or any number of things if we had stayed.

I almost feel bad at the relief I felt when he shooed us out of his hospital room. I’m dead on my feet, fighting like hell to even keep my eyes open. This has been the longest day and I’m both physically and emotionally drained.

I climb from the truck with a grunt and move around back to grab my luggage from the trunk. I know I’ll be here for a while, so I’m glad to have the extra clothes, even though most of them aren’t things I would wear on a normal basis.

I catch up to Mom as she unlocks the door, and we make our way inside. “Go unpack and I’ll throw us something together to eat.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to just go grab us something?” She gives me a dirty look and shoos me away, so I laugh and make my way down the hall to my old room.

It’s Mom’s craft room now, but they’ve always made sure to leave me a bed and a dresser so I can come visit whenever I feel like it. I’m thankful for it now as I lift my suitcase up onto the bed and start moving my clothes from it into the dresser. I’m about to zip the bag closed when the light catches something resting in the bottom and I reach in to pull it out.

It’s a pen.

For a moment I don’t remember why it’s even in here, and then I remember it’s the one that I took from Amelia’s table at the convention. I smile at the memory and roll it between my fingers. I’m about to set it down on the dresser or toss it back into my suitcase when the words down the side catch my eye and I flip it over to read it better.

I choke out a laugh, hope flaring in my chest as I read the familiar name of the company she works for. She’s in my city.

Fuck, she’s in the same damn building that I’m working in right now.

“Are you okay back there?” My mom calls down the hall, and I can’t help but laugh again.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m good,” I call back. I set the pen on top of the dresser before zipping my bag closed and shoving it under the bed. Just as I leave the room, I pause at the dresser, looking down at the inconspicuous item one more time.

I’d contemplated maybe it was fate before, but almost in jest. Who actually believes in fate? But with this one small thing, I feel like maybe I do. What are the odds that we’d meet at a convention I went to on a whim to build connections?

There were so many people there, the fact that I even stopped at her table was sheer luck. But to be working in the same building as one another? In a city full of people, the chances of that happening are just something that I can’t ignore.