The hum of the engine between my legs is soothing, a steady vibration that settles some of the chaos spinning in my chest. The sky is clear, the kind of perfect blue that makes you feel like the world isn't as shitty as it actually is. I don't ride my bike as much as I'd like anymore, but today's different. Today, I needed the noise, the speed, the illusion of control.

I'm finally taking Valarie and Declan to meet my mom tomorrow. Hell, I may even invite Adrian. I still don't know if he'll come. He's hard to read sometimes. But I will throw it out there.

The idea of introducing all three of them to her makes my stomach twist. Not in a bad way, exactly, but it's not all good, either.

Excitement battles with nerves in my chest as I turn into the nursing home parking lot. The thought of Valarie meeting my mom, of Declan shaking her hand, of Adrian awkwardly nodding because he doesn't know how to small talk. It feels like a big step. A bigger step than I'm used to taking.

But it's not just about them meeting her. It's about her meeting them. She's not in a great state anymore, but part of me hopes she'll get it. That she'll see these people and understand that they're... mine. My family. That I'm happy with them, in a way I never thought I'd be. It's a long shot, I know. But still, I hope.

I park the bike near the entrance, taking my helmet off and running a hand through my hair. The wind's done a number on it, and I probably look like shit, but who cares? It's not like my mom's gonna judge me for it.

My phone buzzes in my pocket just as I swing my leg off the bike. I glance at the screen and see the nursing home's number. That's odd. I'm already here, so I ignore it, slipping the phone back into my pocket and heading inside.

The automatic doors slide open with a soft whoosh, and the familiar scent of antiseptic and faded lavender hits me like a punch to the gut. It's a smell I've come to associate with guilt and obligation. Every time I walk in here, I tell myself it's because I want to see her, to check on her. But there's always a part of me that wonders if I'm just doing it because I think I should. Because I think maybe if I do this one good thing, it'll make up for all the bad shit between us.

The receptionist looks up as I approach, her face softening the moment she sees me. "Oh, Elias, honey," she says, her voice heavy with something I don't want to name.

That's when I know. Before she says another word, before I even ask, I know.

No.

It's like my brain short-circuits. Everything slows down, the noise of the world muffling around me. My hands curl into fists at my sides as I force myself to stay rooted to the spot. "What?" My voice is sharp, a little too loud.

She stands, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "Elias, I'm so sorry. Your mother... she passed just a few moments ago. I tried calling you."

Passed. The word hits me like a fucking brick, knocking the air out of my lungs. My mother is dead.

I blink at her, the world tilting around me. "A few moments ago?" I echo, like an idiot. Like saying the words will somehow make them make sense. If I had been just a few moments earlier, I could have been with her for her last moments.

She nods, her expression swimming with pity. "It was peaceful," she says, like that's supposed to mean anything to me. Like that erases years of chaos, of screaming matches, of quiet disappointment.

I don't say anything. I can't. My throat feels like it's closing up, and my chest is too tight, and there's this buzzing in my head that just won't fucking stop.

"Elias?" she prompts gently, but I can't take it. I can't stand here and nod and thank her for telling me. I can't do this.

I turn on my heel and leave. The doors whoosh open again as I push through them, the sunlight blinding after the dimness of the lobby. My bike is right where I left it, gleaming under the afternoon sun. I shove my helmet on, the familiar weight of it grounding me just enough to get me moving.

My hands shake as I start the engine. The roar of it fills my ears, drowning out everything else. I peel out of the parking lot, not caring about the speed limit or the way the bike jerks beneath me as I take a corner too fast.

I don't know where I'm going. I don't care. All I know is that I need to move, to outrun the buzzing in my head, the tightness in my chest.

My mother is dead.

The words don't feel real. They sit heavy and foreign in my mind, like they belong to someone else. She's gone. And the thing is... I don't even know how I feel about it.

Angry. That's the first thing that comes to mind. I'm fucking furious. At her, at myself, at the universe for taking her now, before I could... what? Make things right? Get some kind of closure?

Fuck closure.

She never gave me that. Not when I was a kid, watching her disappear into her room with another needle. Not when I was a teenager, yelling at her to get her shit together while she stared at me like I was speaking another language. Not even now, when I've been trying, trying so fucking hard, to let it go.

The scenery blurs past me, the wind cutting through my jacket as I push the bike faster. It's reckless, and I know it. But I don't care. Maybe that's why I'm doing it. Maybe I want to feel something, anything, other than this gaping void in my chest.

I think about Valarie, about Declan, about Adrian. About how I was going to bring them here tomorrow, introduce them to my mom like some kind of fucked-up peace offering. "Look, Mom," I was going to say. "Look at what I've built. Look at who I've become. You were never family, but look, I've made a new one."

But she'll never see it now. She'll never meet them, never know them, never understand what they mean to me. And maybe that's the part that hurts the most.

The bike skids a little as I take another corner too fast, and for a second, I think about letting it go. Just letting the wheels slide out from under me and seeing what happens. But then I think about Valarie's face if she found out, the way she'd look at me like I was broken.

I can't do that to her. I can't do that to any of them.

I pull over onto the shoulder, cutting the engine and yanking off my helmet. The silence is deafening, the weight of it pressing down on me as I sit there, staring at the stretch of road in front of me. My hands are still shaking, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath.

She's gone.

I don't know how long I sit there, the sun dipping lower in the sky as the minutes tick by. My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I don't look at it. I can't deal with anyone right now. Not even them.

Eventually, I start the bike again, the familiar rumble of the engine grounding me just enough to get moving. I don't know where I'm going, but at least I'm moving. At least I'm not standing still.

***

My head feels like it's been split wide open and someone has shoved gravel into it.

Every throb behind my eyes is a reminder of last night. A blur of whiskey, shitty decisions, and me trying to outrun the weight pressing on my chest. My mouth is dry as hell, my tongue sticking to the roof like sandpaper, and my stomach churns every time I shift.

I groan, dragging a hand over my face, the coolness of my palm a small relief against the heat radiating from my skin. My bed feels like it's swallowing me whole, the sheets tangled around my legs. I don't remember getting home. I don't remember much of anything after the bar, except that the pain didn't leave no matter how much I drank.

Then I hear it. Footsteps. Soft at first, like whoever's moving around doesn't want to be heard. My first instinct is panic. Who the fuck is in my house? My muscles tense, but then I hear her voice, and everything inside me unwinds and knots up at the same time.

"Elias?" Valarie calls out, her voice soft but laced with worry.

I open my eyes, squinting against the dim light filtering through the blinds. She's standing in the doorway, her auburn hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, her green eyes scanning the room like she's trying to piece together what's wrong before I say anything. Her expression softens when our gazes meet.

"There you are," she says, stepping into the room. "I was about to call for backup."

"What are you doing here?" My voice is gravelly, thick with the remnants of sleep and dehydration.

Her brow furrows, and she crosses her arms over her chest. "You haven't been answering your phone. I was worried."

"I'm fine," I lie, wincing as I push myself up on the bed. My head pounds with the effort, a fresh wave of nausea rolling over me. "Just... hungover."

Valarie doesn't look convinced. She moves closer, her eyes narrowing as she takes me in. I know what I must look like. Messy hair, pale skin, probably still smelling like last night's whiskey. She places the back of her hand on my forehead, her touch cool and soothing. "You don't look fine."

"I'm not sick," I say, trying to wave her off, but my voice cracks, betraying me.

"Elias," she says, her tone firm now. "You're burning up."

She grabs my wrist, checking my pulse like the nurse she is. Her touch is gentle but efficient, her eyes flicking to mine before she leans closer to check my pupils. "Have you been drinking water? Eating? Anything?"

"Jesus, Val," I mutter, leaning back against the headboard. "I'm not dying. It's just a hangover." My words are harsher and more defensive than I meant for them to be, but Valarie isn't fazed.

Her lips press into a thin line, and she sits on the edge of the bed, her hand resting on my arm. "You don't get to brush me off like that. Okay? If you're not physically sick, then what's going on? Because you don't look like yourself."

I turn my head, avoiding her gaze. The weight in my chest that I've been trying to drown out since yesterday is back, heavier than ever. I don't want to say it. I don't even know how to start.

"Elias." Her voice is softer now, but it cuts through the fog in my head like a blade. "Talk to me."

I don't know what I've done to deserve her.

I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots like the pain will help me think clearer.

Valarie doesn't say anything, just waits. She's good at that. Giving me space but letting me know she's not going anywhere. It's frustrating and comforting all at once.

"My mom's dead." The words come out flat, lifeless, like they don't belong to me. Like if I say them without feeling, they won't hurt as much.

Valarie's hand tightens on my arm, her eyes widening. "Elias..."

"It happened yesterday," I continue, my throat tight. "I went to the nursing home to check on her, and they told me she was gone. Just like that. No warning. No nothing."

Her expression crumples, and she moves closer, her hand sliding down to cover mine. "Oh, Elias. I'm so sorry."

I nod, swallowing hard. "Yeah, well. It is what it is."

But it's not. It's not what it is, and we both know it. She doesn't push, though. She just sits there, her thumb brushing over the back of my hand.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye," I admit, my voice breaking. "She never apologized, never explained why she-" I stop, shaking my head. I've said too much. "She's just gone, and I'm supposed to be okay with it?"

I haven't told Valarie, or even Declan, about my mom. Or my upbringing. It's a private and sensitive topic for me.

"You don't have to be okay with it," Valarie says, her voice steady but full of emotion. "You're allowed to feel however you feel. Angry, sad, confused. It's all valid."

I let out a bitter laugh, scrubbing a hand over my face. "Mostly, I'm just fucking angry. At her, at myself, at the whole damn situation. She left me with nothing but questions, Val. And now, I'll never get the answers."

Valarie moves closer, wrapping her arms around me. She doesn't prod. She doesn't ask any questions. She just...lets me be.

Her warmth seeps into my skin, softening some of the jagged edges inside me. "You don't have to do this alone," she murmurs against my shoulder. "I'm here. Declan and Adrian are here. We've got you, Elias."

Her words hit me harder than I expect, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. I don't know how to respond. I don't want to respond. Afraid that I'll say something I'm not ready to tell Valarie, or anyone. So instead, I let her hold me.