Broken Knight (All Saints High 2)

To be normal. To be healthy. To be genetically privileged.

She’d said, “Days tick by, as you expect them to. Like fanning pages in a calendar. You make plans. Sometimes you forget them. Sometimes you keep them. Sometimes cancel them. But you never doubt you can make them. You let things—mundane things, like bad traffic or getting caught in the pouring rain or rude, inconsiderate people—ruin your day, not realizing how precious said day is. How unique. How this day will never come again. No day will look quite like it. And that’s how you look back, years after, wondering where all the time went.”

When she saw what was on my face, though, she’d added quickly, “But I learned a long time ago that maybe a reminder of the fact that we aren’t here forever is exactly what we need to make the most out of life. And I learned that because of you.”

This was why I’d decided to adopt my beautiful son.

To bring my younger son into the world.

To get married. To start a family. To love hard. Fiercely. With abandon.

This is why I never denied myself anything I wanted. Not only was life too short, but I wanted my beautiful family to remember that, too.

Plenty of times I’d wondered if I was selfish to have a family.

But was breaking Dean’s heart and walking away from him the selfless thing to do? I didn’t think so. I knew in my heart that Dean would be miserable as long as I was alive and away from him. Just like he had been until we got together.

Was not adopting Knight going to help him? What if he’d ended up handed over from family to family in the foster care system? What if he’d been given to a family that didn’t give him all he deserved? I knew I would be the best mother for him. And what if Dixie had been forced to keep him somehow, when she wasn’t equipped, nor in the right emotional place to care for her child?

As for Levy, he was a pleasant surprise. I hadn’t been expecting him, didn’t think I could ever get pregnant. But once I’d found out I was, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. He was the most precious gift, and loved beyond words and actions.

I’ve lived a full life.

A beautiful life.

I wouldn’t take anything back. If I could do one more thing before I left this earth, it would be to give—give my loved ones a piece of advice, my love, and my approval.

Now I was living the picture as I’d imagined it in my mind, every day since I was a little girl and found out I wouldn’t live to ripe old age, that I would probably never see myself with completely gray hair, deep-set wrinkles, and surrounded by beautiful grandchildren. The gown was beautiful, comfortable, and angelic. I lay on top of my bed, dizzy, but smiling nonetheless, as I hugged my sister Emilia.

She stood up from my bed, wiping her eyes. “Who do you want to see first?”

“Levy.”

When my young son entered my room, the first thing I noticed was how not completely young he was anymore. Of course, I’d seen him every day, save for the week I’d been in a coma. But he seemed to have gotten tall almost overnight. He was lanky now, his jaw squarer, his eyes less wide and exploring, more suspicious and slanted. He was going to be a gorgeous man one day, and I absolutely refused to be upset over the fact that I wasn’t going to know what he would look like. Or over the nagging, eternal question of whether he was going to be with Bailey or not. I couldn’t allow my thoughts to roam this way. I had to keep them on what was important. I patted the space next to me with a smile.

“H-how are you feeling, Mom?” He glanced at me from under his lashes.

He had great lashes. Like mine. I smiled at the fact I was going to stay on this earth forever. Through him. Through Knight. Through my husband.

“Good. You?”

“Yeah. Good.”

“Liar.”

He looked down, shooting a small smile.

“Break for me, Levy. I want to hug away your pain.”

That’s what we did for the next half hour. I just held him while he sobbed. I asked him to understand that even after I was gone, I still loved him, fiercely. Begged him not to feel the betrayal that can accompany the loss of a parent, to know that no part of me wanted to leave him and his brother and father behind. That I’d lived, breathed, and thrived because they were with me. That I’d fought for every day, until I couldn’t anymore, because they were worth the struggle.

When Lev ran out of tears, and I ran out of strength, I let him nap on my chest peacefully, ignoring the dull pain and how badly it hurt when I was hooked up to so many machines, my lungs collapsing by the nanosecond.