Chapter 107

“What?” he asked, alarmed.

“You arepreaching a sermon.”

“Maybe a little. Old habits die hard.”

“Thing is, I’m not the one who’s dying here, and my last memory—”

“Did I say youwere the one who was dying?”

I frowned.

“Is it about yourlast memory?” he pressed. “Or is it about being with someone on what could be the very last journey they make in this life?”

“Well, you know how to suck the air out of a room, don’t you?”

“Just think about it, will you?”96: Just Tired

The next time I woke, Jackson was standing beside Tony’s bed, dipping a sponge into a bowl of warm, soapy water. I watched as he ran the sponge over Tony’s arms, hands, his chest, and the underside of his jaw.

“I can do that,” I said, standing, wiping sleep from my eyes.

“It’s my job,” he replied. “Besides, he’s my son too.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Maybe I’m not as good as you are at getting all emotional and everything, but I’m hurting too, Wiley.”