Page 86 of The Assist
“Hey,” she says softly. “You okay?”
I nod. Then shake my head. “I don’t know.” We sit there for a moment in silence.
“I thought maybe… maybe it was just stress. That he was tired. That it would pass. But he’s not sleeping. He’s snapping at everything. And now this,”
“You think it’s dementia?”
I nod again. My throat is tight. “Mum’s trying to get him to do some proper tests, but he’s resisting. He keeps saying it’s nothing. But it’s not. It’s getting worse.”
Sophie pulls me into a hug, and I bury my face in her shoulder.
“He used to be the sharpest man I knew,” I whisper. “Now he looks at me like he’s trying to remember who I am.”
Her grip tightens. “I’m so sorry, love.”
I sniff and wipe at my face. “I’m scared he’s going to hate me even more now. That he’ll forget everything except how disappointed he’s always been.”
“Mia, no.” She pulls back to look at me. “He might not have understood your career choice, but he’s always loved you. That’s not something dementia can erase. And even if his memory fades, your impact doesn’t.”
God. That undoes me more than I expect. I let myself cry for a full thirty seconds before Sophie claps her hands.
“Right,” she says firmly. “Now we cry, later we slay. That’s the rule.”
I blink at her, dazed. “That’s not a rule.”
“It is now.You’ve got a date with a hockey god, remember?”
My phone buzzes again.
Dylan: Thinking about you in that white top you wore to training last week. The one that made me forget my own name.
I smile, despite myself.
Mia: You’re a menace.
Dylan: Yeah. But I’m your menace.
God, I’m in trouble.
By the timesix rolls around, Sophie’s transformed me from tired wreck to actual functioning human goddess. My hair’s soft and curled at the ends, makeup glowing but not heavy, and the outfit; tight jeans, a black lace-trim cami, and a slouchy beige blazer, is enough to make even me do double-take in the mirror.
“He’s going tocombust,” Sophie declares.
“Too much?”
“Not even a little. He’ll worship at your feet.”
“Let’s maybe not start with foot worship.”
“Fair.”
I grab my bag, check my phone, and stare at the text waiting for me.
Dylan: Waiting outside. Don’t make me come up there.
My heart stutters.
Sophie grins and practically pushes me toward the door. “I’ll tidy up and let myself out. Go get your man, Clarke.”
