After one of the nurses directs me to her room, I hop on the elevator and take it to the fourth floor.

I follow the numbers in the hallway until I reach 402. The door is open, but the shades are drawn shut. From where I stand, I can see Annette asleep in her bed.

She’s fine, see? Nothing to worry about.

That’s when I hear the stifled sobs.

I put one foot in front of the other, entering the room as quietly as I can.

Raegan’s in the far corner of the room, curled up in a chair. Her head hangs down, so she doesn’t notice me. Her knees are pulled up to her chest, arms hugging them close. Her hair is piled high in a messy bun. She looks so small. So sad. So alone. My heart pulls me toward her until I’m kneeling in front of her chair.

She looks at me from under wet lashes. “Jaxon. What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t see you down at the pool. My grandfather said maybe Annette was having a tough day.”

Her watery gaze flicks to her grandmother. “She didn’t recognize me. She kept asking where my grandfather was. I … I didn’t have the heart to remind her that he passed away a long time ago. She was getting angry so they sedated her.”

“Does this happen often?”

“It’s getting more and more frequent. I’m afraid I’m going to lose her for good.”

I squeeze her arm. “I’m sorry, Raegan.”

She blinks. “You came up here to check on her.”

I nod, unsure of what her reaction will be. I hope she doesn’t ask why, because I don’t have an answer.

A lone tear escapes, rolling down the swell of her cheek. I brush it away with my thumb, and Raegan leans into my touch. Without thinking about it, my arms wrap around her. She heaves a sigh and rests her head on my shoulder.

We don’t talk. No witty banter. No sarcastic jabs. No flirting.

I might not know why I’m here, but I know one thing for certain: I’ll stay here and hold her for as long as she needs me to.

Days Left Until Summer Break: 139

Raegan

Something has changed.

I can’t pinpoint what it is. I can’t figure out how it happened. I just know things are different.

Jaxon didn’t know that I’d be in my grandmother’s room this past weekend. He had no reason to pop in and see if she was okay. He shouldn’t have cared.

Yet he did.

Normally I’d be embarrassed to cry in front of a man. Andrew viewed tears as a sign of weakness, and he’d get angry if I cried during a fight. I’d learned to hide my sadness and cry in solitude.