McKinley releases Lincoln, swiping at her eyes. “We’re almost done. My brother just got here to say his good-byes. We won’t be long.”

When the man disappears from the room, Lincoln’s attention shifts to the sheet.

McKinley sniffles. “We want to donate her tissue and whatever else might be able to help someone, if possible, so they need to take her as soon as possible. We waited as long as we could for you.”

Lincoln grimaces, and again, I know what he’s thinking. He would have been closer by if not for needing to run away with me.

At least he didn’t miss his only chance to say good-bye to his mother. I never could have forgiven myself for that. Actually, the chance that I’ll be able to forgive myself for any of this is slim to none. No matter what Lincoln says, this will always be my fault. Loving him doesn’t change the fact that I’m cursed.

Lincoln reaches for the sheet and stops. He glances over his shoulder at McKinley and me. “Could you both give me a minute? I . . . I’d like to be alone for a moment.”

“Of course,” his sister says.

I nod because I can’t get any words out of my constricted throat.

When I walk toward the door, Lincoln reaches out to snag my hand, pulling me to a stop. “I’ll be right out. I’m sorry . . . I just need to . . .”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “It’s fine. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

Five

Lincoln

I lower myself into the seat McKinley vacated, and my shoulders roll forward. Tears I’ve been holding back sneak out of my eyes and drip down my cheeks, landing one by one on the white sheet.

“I’m sorry, Mother. It doesn’t matter how many times I say it, I’ll never be able to tell you that again.”

I lift my hand to raise the sheet, but my fingers shake. Once I see her face, it will all become real, and that’s not something I want to believe right now. But I don’t have a choice.

When I pull back the sheet, I’m prepared for how different she looks, because I remember my dad. The tubes and leads they used to try to save her are still there.

Part of me hoped her face would be placid and peaceful, but it’s lined with pain.

I cover her again almost as quickly and bow my head.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be the son you wanted. I’m sorry you felt cheated by life. I’m sorry I could never make you proud of me. I’m sorry I couldn’t make you happy. I’m just so fucking sorry, Mother.”

The door opens, but I don’t look behind me as the power chair rolls inside. I expected him to come.

“You didn’t do this to her, so don’t you dare blame yourself.” Commodore’s commanding tone can’t make his words the truth, however.