Chapter 6 Eat With Me

Lyra didn't know how long she sat there, her hand wrapped around her father's cold fingers, her tears falling silently onto the white sheets. The machines beeped in their steady rhythm, the only sound in the room besides her quiet breathing.

Cade stood by the door, silent, unmoving, his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't say anything, didn't try to comfort her, just waited.

Eventually, Lyra's tears dried up, leaving her hollow and empty. She stared at her father's face, memorizing every line, every shadow, storing it away in her mind because she didn't know when she'd see him again.

"We should go," Cade said finally, his voice low, she didn't move.

"Lyra," he said, his tone firmer now.

She nodded slowly but didn't let go of her father's hand, not yet.

"I'll come back," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I'll come back tomorrow."

Cade didn't respond.

She squeezed her father's hand one last time, then forced herself to stand. Her legs were shaky, her body exhausted, but she made herself walk toward the door.

Cade stepped aside to let her pass, then followed her out into the hallway. The hospital was busier now, nurses moving between rooms, doctors checking charts, the morning shift in full swing. The fluorescent lights felt harsh against her swollen eyes.

They walked in silence, the sound of their footsteps swallowed by the noise around them. Lyra kept her eyes down, her arms wrapped around herself, her mind numb.

When they stepped outside, the sunlight hit her face, bright and warm. She squinted against it, lifting her hand to shield her eyes. The parking lot was fuller now, cars pulling in and out, people coming and going.

Cade walked ahead of her to the bike, his movements efficient, practiced. He swung his leg over and settled into the seat, then looked back at her, waiting. She walked over slowly, her body heavy with exhaustion. She climbed onto the bike behind him, her movements automatic, her mind elsewhere.

"Hold on," he said, his voice flat.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, her grip loose this time, her head resting against his back. She didn't have the energy to hold on tighter, didn't have the energy to think about anything except the image of her father lying in that bed, tubes and machines keeping him alive.

Cade started the engine, the roar cutting through the morning air, then pulled out of the parking lot and onto the streets.

The ride back felt longer, the sun warmer on her skin, the world too bright, too alive. Lyra closed her eyes and let herself disappear into the vibration of the bike, the steady rhythm of Cade's breathing, the warmth of his body against hers.

She didn't want to think, didn't want to feel, didn't want to be here. But she was.

When they pulled into the driveway, Cade turned off the engine and got off first. Lyra climbed off slowly, her legs unsteady.

She followed him inside without a word, her mind still foggy. The house was quiet, sunlight streaming through the windows, dust particles floating in the beams of light.

Cade walked into the living room and gestured toward the couch. "Sit."

She did, sinking into the cushions, her body folding in on itself. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, staring at the floor.

Cade stood there for a moment, watching her, then disappeared into the kitchen. She heard drawers opening, the sound of his phone, his voice low as he spoke to someone in Italian.

A few minutes later, he came back and sat down in the chair across from her, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together.

"I ordered food," he said.

She nodded but didn't look up.

"You need to eat," he added.

"I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten since yesterday."

She didn't respond. Cade sighed and leaned back in the chair, his eyes still on her. "Lyra."

"I'm fine," she said quietly.

"You're not."

She finally looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen. "What do you want me to say, Cade? That I'm okay? That seeing my father like that didn't just destroy me?"

His jaw tightened, but he didn't look away. "No. I just want you to eat something."

She shook her head and looked back down at the floor.

They sat in silence after that, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on them like a heavy blanket. The sunlight moved across the room slowly, marking the passage of time.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Cade got up and answered it, exchanging a few words in Italian with whoever was on the other side. He came back with two paper bags, the smell of food filling the room.

He set the bags on the coffee table in front of her and pulled out containers, placing them one by one in front of her. Pasta, bread, something that looked like grilled chicken.

"Eat," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Lyra stared at the food, her stomach twisting. She didn't want it, didn't think she could keep it down, but she reached for the fork anyway because she didn't have the energy to argue.

She took a small bite of the pasta, chewing slowly, mechanically. It tasted like nothing.

Cade sat back down in the chair, watching her.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked quietly, not looking at him.

"I'm good," he said.

She took another bite, then set the fork down, her hands trembling. "Cade, please. Just eat with me."

He shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

"You ordered two meals."

"One's for you. The other's for later."

She looked up at him, her eyes tired, pleading. "I don't want to eat alone."

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he'd refuse again, but then he leaned forward, grabbed one of the containers, and pulled it toward him. He didn't use a fork, just picked at the food with his fingers, his movements slow, deliberate.

They ate in silence, the only sound the rustling of paper and the occasional scrape of a fork against the container. Lyra forced herself to finish half of what he'd given her, then pushed the container away, her stomach too full, her body too tired.

Cade set his container down too, his eyes still on her.

"You should rest," he said.

She nodded, but she didn't move.

He stood up and started clearing the table, gathering the containers and bags, his movements efficient, practiced. She watched him, her mind drifting, her chest heavy.

"Cade," she said quietly.

He stopped and looked at her.

"Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "For taking me to see him."

He didn't respond, just nodded once, then disappeared into the kitchen.

Lyra leaned back against the couch, her eyes closing, exhaustion pulling at her like a weight. She heard the water running, the sound of dishes clinking, then footsteps coming back into the room.

She opened her eyes and saw Cade standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, his face unreadable. The sunlight behind him cast his face in shadow.

"So," he said, his voice low, steady. "When are you leaving?"

The question hit her like a punch to the chest, her breath catching in her throat. She stared at him, her mind struggling to process what he'd just asked.

"What?" she whispered.

"When are you leaving?" he repeated, his tone flat, emotionless.

She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Her hands gripped the edge of the couch, her heart pounding in her chest.

He just stood there, waiting for an answer and she didn't know what to say.