“Cora,” Joseph says softly, his voice raspy from sleep. “Come to bed.”
I shake my head. “I can smell him. It’s so faint, but if I turn my head, his scent is here.”
He comes over and kneels in front of where I sit in the rocking chair my father made, taking my hand in his. “I know you miss him, but you need to sleep.”
“His scent,” I say, my voice cracking.
This has all been too much, but the smell of my father is comforting. I turn my head into the chair again and breathe deeply.
“I’m so worried about you,” he says softly as he pushes my hair back. He reaches up and gently removes the crown from my head before placing it in my lap. “You hate this thing, and you forgot it was even on.”
“You’ll always love me, right?” I ask, looking into his dark eyes that I have grown to love
