Page 152 of Never You

JJJ.

It’s simple, it’s cheesy is fuck, but it’s my promise to fight for him. To stand by him. To choose him every day for the rest of my life, no matter how hard life gets. No matter what war we have to fight. We fight it together.

“I don’t know what to say,” he breathes, then settles for a bruising kiss as he takes my head in his hands. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I love you,Jared James Jensen. And will keep loving you until the end, when we are old and gray and grumpy as fuck. I have nothing to fear.”

His forehead falls against mine, his eyes shut. His loaded energy washes over me, heating my core, desperate for him to run his tongue over his initials on my body.

“You have no idea how desperate I am for dessert right now.”

“I have a feeling,” I chuckle.

“I love you so fucking much. You make me so happy.” He lowers his head so he can look me in the eye. “Are you happy, babe?” he asks, pushing a strand of my blonde hair behind my ear.

“So happy. It’s perfect.”

Everything is perfect.

He grins, licking his lips as if he’s going to devour me long before dessert is served, but to be honest, I don’t even care, completely surrendering to him when he says; “Youare perfect.”

47

If I could give all my money to never see Peartree Park pop onto my phone again, I’d be broke. But then again, the alternative is for them to not have any more reason to call me, and that thought isn’t much better either.

It’s a fucking nightmare.

“Good morning, Mr. McKay, how are you today?” The melodic voice of my father’s nurse flies in my ear, as soon as I answer the call.

“Good morning, Sheila.” I press the button for the elevator to ride up to the top, ignoring the slight pounding of my hangover. “I’m good. However, something tells me you’re about to ruin my day.”

She always ruins my day. I don’t have anything against her, she’s fucking amazing. All the nurses at Peartree Park are. But I don’t get calls from the Peartree unless something is up.

“Well, your father is okay, but I just wanted to inform you with my observation of the last couple of days, since I promised to keep you updated if anything changes. His state has severely deteriorated. We are trying to keep his day as structured aspossible, but the clear days are becoming less frequent. He’s having a hard time voicing his wants and needs, and he can’t seem to dress himself anymore. I’ve suggested his doctor consider moving your father to a closed floor for his own safety.” She pauses while I process her words. A heavy feeling unravels in my stomach, and my chest deflates.

Everytime I think things can’t get worse, my fucking phone rings and my bubble gets burst allover again.

“I understand. Can you just give it a few days first?” The closed floor is something you don’t wish upon anyone. The people who are stuck there are nothing more than trapped souls in a vessel that doesn’t work for them anymore.

No one will get better from that.

Our senses are made to be stimulated.

I’ve been preparing myself for the natural course of my father’s deterioration, but every time his situation changes, it still feels like I’m hit by a ton of bricks.

It physically hurts knowing he’s sitting there, slowly fading away, and there is nothing I can do about it. Not unless I suddenly have the ability to bring back the dead like some Australian god.

“Thank you for telling me, Sheila.”

“No problem, Mr. McKay.”

“You can tell him I’m stopping by in the afternoon.” I know she won’t tell him anything, because it will most likely only confuse him, but I still tell her every single time.

She stays quiet for a brief moment until I hear the tone of voice that always comes with a kind smile. “He’ll love that. I’ll see you later today.”

“See you later, Sheila.” The elevator doors open, and I step outside with big strides.

I’m not going to let this fuck up my day. I just need a minute to myself, a very large coffee and some food to absorb the littlealcohol that’s still blazing through my veins. As long as the day doesn’t throw me anymore surprises I’ll be— “what the fuck?”