Fiona’s POV
They let me go in to see him.
I’m not sure whether Kate wants me there or not. If she asked me to leave, I probably would. But I’m glad she doesn’t. If he’s going to die, I need to be able to say goodbye. As beautiful as their love is, there are other kinds of love in the world, and that kind matters, too.
Kate and I don’t say much. I think we’re both focused on the same two things: Cliff’s face and the heart monitor. I watch her hazel eyes flutter back and forth, sometimes on his closed eyelids, silently begging them to open; sometimes on his scarred face, not dissimilar to Brooke’s scar; and then, anytime it speeds up, slows down, or blips, to the monitor.
She isn’t crying, and neither am I. Tears mean death. Tears mean pain. He hasn’t died yet, and because of that, I ref
