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“I think you should read it,” I say patiently.

“What? No.” She replies with a mouth full of ice cream. “Absolutely not.”

“Whatever it is, he took the time to write it to you, and I think you should read it.” I reason.

“No. I’m not letting that asshole get the last word. All we ever did was fight. All he ever did was criticize me. Why would this be any different?” She protests.

“Because he was dying,” I say solemnly, walking over and setting down the envelope on the couch beside her and picking up a spoon for myself. “People change at the end of their lives. I think you’ll be glad you read it if you do.”

“You’re lucky I don’t hate you.” She says when I dig my spoon into the tub of ice cream.

“Oh? I wasn’t sure about that as of late.” I chuckle, only a little seriousness in my words.

“Marshall, I...” She starts.

“No. Right now isn’t the time to be getting into our mess.” I push on, hoping I can get through to her. “You’re avoiding right now, Elsie. It’s okay to be scared, but it doesn’t mean you’re not strong enough to face your fears.”

“I’m not scared.” She snaps, stabbing her spoon into the tub of ice cream. “I’m just...”

She drops her head onto the back of the couch, revealing the length of her neck that I so love to bite and nibble at.

I shake my head of thoughts that don’t belong in this moment, refocusing on being here for Elsie.

She needs me.

Whether she’s ready to admit it or not, she needs me. I plan on being here for her just like I plan on continuing to show up for her every day for the rest of our lives.

Scooping another bite of ice cream out of the tub, I ask her. “What’s the worst that could happen? He’s already gone. There’s nothing more that he can do.”

A contemplative look passes over Elsie’s face as she ponders the possible outcomes.

I know what she’s thinking. I recognize her hesitations now, her motivations.

Taking both of our spoons and the ice cream, which gets me a look of protest, I set them down on the coffee table where I sit and take her hand in mine.

“He can’t hurt you anymore, Elsie,” I say softly, rubbing my thumb on her inner wrist.

I see her pushing down the tears that want to spill, and it physically pains me to see her in such distress.

I want to comfort her, but she needs to ask me.

I can’t continue to give of myself without her asking. It might break me.

“Just...” I reach over and grab the letter, placing it in the hand that I hold. “Consider reading it. If you want me to sit with you while you do, I’ll be here. If you want a moment alone, just say so, and I’ll leave.”

Too many thoughts and emotions flash across Elsie’s eyes for me to honestly tell what she’s thinking or how she’s feeling, but I get the sense that she’s right at the edge of her decision.

“Okay.” She says softly.

“Okay?”

“I’ll read it, but I think...” Her face screws up in an adorable scrunch. “I think I need to be alone for this.”

“Okay. I’m going to head back to Selene and Gunnar’s then.” I say, giving her free hand a squeeze. “If you need me, just call.”

“Okay.” She whispers. “Thank you.”

I lean down and give her a kiss on the forehead. She melts under my touch, and a warm satisfaction swells in my chest when she does.

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