Page 74 of Wildest Forever

Once finished, I swoop the bowls up before Marsha can even get a chance. Placing them in the sink, I turn and plate up the pastries with the fresh fruit.

Melon, strawberries, cherries, pineapple and blood oranges.

I place them down and grab small plates as I lay them out.

“I could get used to this,” Pacey licks his lips and reaches straight for the pastry and pinches a few pieces of the different fruit.

Dusty goes next, then Marsha and finally I help myself.

Once lunch is tidied away and the dishes are washed, I say goodbye to Marsha and invite her, Dusty and the kids over for dinner on the weekend.

I would love to have Pops join us, but I know that won't happen.

Sadly, this is the way dinner times will be now.

Without pops.

Sighing, I move upstairs and slip into his room.

His eyes trace mine and I smile.

“You're awake,” my heart warms in my chest as I step closer to him and sit on the edge of the bed.

“I am,” he smiles, his eyes not as full of life as they once were, the sparkle slowly seeping from them.

“Hungry? Marsha made soup.”

His ears must prick up because the smile that spreads across his lips is wide, baring his teeth.

“Let me go get it for you,” I reach for his hand and give it a squeeze.

“Okay,” he nods as I push from the bed and make my way downstairs to warm his soup and get his bread roll.

Dusty told me to take as long as I needed and to spend the time with my pops.

Guilt eats away at me.

I feel bad that he is doing all the work whilst I am sitting here with him.

Pacey left shortly after lunch. We spent some time together with pops before he was called back away.

Placing the now warmed soup on the tray with his fresh buttered roll, his pastry and fruit and a water, I climb the stairs, cautious not to spill anything.

Pushing the door with my foot, I press a smile on my face as I lift my eyes from the tray and to my pops.

My smile slips.

My heart stalls in my chest.

“Pops.” I say, softness wrapped around my tone.

Nothing.

“Pops,” I say a little louder, my fingers curled around the edge of the tray, tightening as the seconds slip pass.

He doesn't respond.

And that's when it hits me.

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