Page 147 of Masked Sins
“Layla texted Estelle,” he tells me, stepping farther into the room. Until a few years ago, he’d seen our father as regularly as I did. But then our dad had to fuck over Stella’s family, and that was that for Miles.
Liam walks in next, and he nods at me before finding a place along the wall.
Kai steps in second to last, jaw tight as he walks over to Dad. And then he does something I never would’ve expected—he drops to his knees and takes our father’s hands, starting to pray for him.
Chase walks in last. He comes to sit in the chair next to me. His hand claps my knee, and then we wait—we all watch as our father’s heartbeat slows. At one point, he opens his eyes, turning his head to take in Kai, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed and holding his hands.
Even the worst criminal doesn’t deserve to die alone.
You’re a better person than me.
I know.
It strikes me then—we’re all better people than he ever was. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe all parents, even the bad ones, hope their offspring will be better off than they were.
And I know it took a lot for my brothers to be here.
Hospice nurses pop in a couple of times, and the afternoon wears on. I share my lunch with my brothers, and then Liam offers to get us more coffee—ever the caretaker as the oldest.
It feels strange to be here with them. To be sharing this moment. The instant he takes his last breath, we’ll all be orphans. And it’s that thought, I think, that hangs over us.
Around five, his breathing turns ragged.
At five thirty, the machine flatlines, and he lets out his final breath.
I always assumed the beeping would continue, but the nurses must turn the sound off at their station to give us privacy.
The silence is deafening, more overwhelming than the beeping that had filled the room just moments before. I feel the loss like a physical blow, but I force myself to stay steady, to stay present.
I don’t have to endure the loss alone, though.
We all walk over to him, placing our hands on top of his.
“To being better,” I say, my voice breaking on the last syllable. The words are heavy, but they carry a promise I hope we can keep.
“To being happier,” Miles says. His voice is soft, almost fragile, as if the weight of the moment could break him.
“To being kinder,” Liam adds, placing an arm around my shoulder, his grip firm, grounding. I can feel the silent strength he offers, the way he’s holding us all up.
Chase steps forward next, his jaw clenched, eyes wet but focused. “To being stronger,” he says, his voice rough with emotion.
Not letting the Ravage name drag us down forever,I think.
Kai is the last to speak, his hand trembling slightly as he places it over Dad’s. “To being braver,” he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. His words linger in the air, a quiet vow to face the future without fear.
As we stand there, a quiet resolve forms between us, binding us together in a way that feels different from anything before.
A moment later, the nurse comes in and offers her condolences, and shortly after, Liam and Miles leave together, giving me a quick hug before exiting the hospital room.
Chase is next, and he hugs me for the longest before turning around and quickly walking out.
Kai turns to face me when I gather my things. “Did you drive here?”
I nod.
“Cool. I’ll walk you out.”
With one last glance over my shoulder, I walk out of the hospice room.
