This is the truest thing I’ve ever said. I do not, in fact, know what to do. Not in the next ten minutes, next hour, next week. I have no idea how I’m supposed to behave right now. There is no protocol to what happens next.

There’s silence on the other side of the line. For a moment, I think maybe Dad has hung up. I don’t know if I can blame him, after everything that’s happened.

“I’m getting on a plane, Ever. Wait right there. I’m coming to see you. Today.”

“Oh. You don’t need to do that . . .”

“I love you.” The words hit me with the force of a semi. He says them in a low growl. With heat. “You hear that, Everlynne? I love you.”

I cry hysterically all over again, this time in relief. He loves me. He still loves me. After everything that’s happened—he still wants to be there for me.

“Th-thank you.”

“Stay strong. I’m coming.”

The line goes dead.

For the first time since Joe called to tell me about Dom, I remember how to breathe.

The funeral is an open-casket event.

In true Dominic Graves form, and despite his head injury, his face has remained flawless and scarless.

Nora was in charge of the makeup. She asked beforehand if it would be weird for me. I told her that it wouldn’t, even though I had no idea how I was feeling about it.

This past week, I felt extremely disconnected from reality. Life seems to be happening in my periphery.

I don’t sleep, but I occasionally pass out in random spots in my apartment. Dad and Renn have been here for a week now. They’re staying at a nice hotel downtown and show up at my doorstep first thing in the morning with coffee. They brought Dunkies the first morning, but it reminded me of the Girlfriend Promise and I sobbed into the box, making a whole stink about it, like they were supposed to know.

Dad and Renn get along great with Nora and Colt. It’s all very cordial on the outside. We look like just another family. But we’re not, and all the things we don’t say to each other pile up between us in an invisible mountain of sorrow.

Renn looks so different now. So tall and strong. So lost and motherless. Dad looks different too. But not necessarily in a bad way. He looks like he’s lost a few pounds and like he actually gets his hair professionally cut, now that Mom is not there to shave it for him.

Dad and Renn arrived the day I called Dad, just like he promised. Even though the funeral is taking place a full week later, neither of them have complained about the time they’re missing from school and work.