Tymber presses the call button for the elevator. When the doors open, Levi inhales several ragged breaths as he stares at the claustrophobic space.
I stroke his knuckles over and over. “We’ll be right beside you the entire time.”
His grip on my hand tightens. He clamps down on his lips with his teeth, subtly nods, and takes a tentative step toward the elevator. Seconds turn into minutes, but neither of us rushes Levi. Once we’re inside, Tymber presses the button and we ascend to the surface.
As the door opens, Tymber moves in front of us. To not overwhelm Levi further, he creates a temporary barrier until Levi appears comfortable enough to be at the forefront of attention.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop Levi’s parents from rushing us.
“Levi,” Mrs. West says, voice shaky. “My sweet boy.” She crowds him and reaches for his face.
He rips his hand from mine and stumbles backward, his eyes wide.
“Felicity.” Tymber steps between her and Levi and sticks out his arm. “Let him come to you.”
She lifts a hand, covers her mouth, and nods. “You’re right.” Her glassy eyes lock onto Levi. “I’m sorry, Levi. It’s just”—she sniffles—“I’m so happy to see you.”
Levi comes back to my side, but he doesn’t take my hand. My fingers twitch at my side, eager for his touch again. As much as I want to initiate holding his hand, I keep mine pinned to my side and let him decide.
No matter what, he needs to be in control. He must decide what happens next.
“Mom?”
Mrs. West’s lips curve up into a shaky smile as tears stream down her cheeks. “Yes, it’s Mom.”
A complete surprise to everyone, Levi steps away from me and all but runs into his mother’s arms. He circles his armsaround her middle, tucks his head in the crook of her neck, and sobs as she strokes his hair.
Bitter jealousy sinks its claws into my heart. I stop breathing as I stare at them. My hands shake at my sides. The world wobbles beneath my feet. Imperceptibly, I shake my head over and over. My vision turns hazy as I teeter in place.
Minutes pass by in sobs and loud whooshes.
No one pays me any attention. Not that they should right now.
An unfamiliar cloud of melancholy blankets my soul as a foreign pang expands in my chest.
More people crowd the area as groups of others are brought up from below.
A man croaks out, “Sydney,” as a frail young woman passes me toward him and his wife. She looks bewildered. Lost. When he repeats her name, she furrows her brow. Like Levi, she probably hasn’t heard her name in months.
I wonder what number was on her door.
After one last glance at Levi as he embraces his mom with unimaginable strength, I avert my gaze, put one foot in front of the other, and head for the boat. On the fifth step, my name echoes through the air.
I pause, close my eyes, inhale deeply, and count to five. Opening my eyes, I school my expression, turn around, and face Levi.
“Yeah?” I feel as empty as the single-word question, but I do my best to not let it show.
Levi releases his mom and moves to stand within arm’s reach. “Thank you.”
His gratitude is a jagged knife to the heart.
All I want is to hold him, console him, tell him I love him.
But I’ve been instructed to reserve my emotions. To let him make the first move.
I understand why. Doesn’t mean I have to agree with or like the reason.
Tears rim my eyes as I stare into his somber blues and nod. “You’re welcome.” My voice cracks on the last syllable.