Monthly Archives: August 2026

August 24, 2026

Update: The Archer – Part 14

Hope everyone’s week got off to a good start 🙂

I spent most of my Friday dealing with my phone. The sim card died and I couldn’t make any phone calls — it’s the only phone I have, so fixing it was an emergency. Just a huge hassle, spent half the day in the Verizon office, and ended up having to get a new phone.

I went into week early this week and I’m so glad I did — two huge items from my order are missing, and I found out they emptied all of my bookshelves and shoved the items into my closets, so it all has to be unpacked and set back up. If I’d found that out next Monday, with only a week to fix things, I’d be going insane.

The Phillies are playing on the West Coast all week, so I’ll be updating later and hopefully every day 🙂

This entry is part 14 of 14 in the Flash Fiction: The Archer

Written in 60 minutes.

Wednesday, October 17, 2000

Luke’s: Main Bar

It was still a few hours before the club would be in full swing, packed with the dock workers after their shift or corporate types enjoying the happy hour promotions, but Luke still had his hands full, filling in for the bartender who’d no-showed.

“This is the last time I put you in charge of hiring,” he told Claude, snatching up a bottle of vodka to finish off a screw driver. He set it in front of the patron who tossed down some money and slid off the stool, melting into the crowd.

Lucky took the empty spot, folding his arms on the bar. “You must  be desperate if you’re out working the bar,” he told his father.

Luke arched his brow, grabbed a pint glass and filled it with a pale ale, then set it in front of his son. “And you must be looking for something if you’re finally showing up here. I’ve been calling you. So has your mother.”

Lucky’s mouth tightened.  He picked up the beer. “I need some advice.”

Luke looked over at Claude, then the crowd around them. “I can give you maybe ten minutes right now, but if you hold off an hour, Nance will be here to take over. Your choice.”

“I’ll wait.” Lucky took the beer, slid off the stool, and disappeared in the crowd.

Jake’s: Bar

Emily sat across  from her brother, and eyed his burger with some suspicion. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone actually eat Jake’s food before.”

“I wouldn’t eat the calamari,” Jason told her. He pushed his plate aside slightly, folded his arms, leaning in. “You want something? I can get Jake.”

“No, I ate on campus.” Emily twisted her  fingers in her lap. “Um, you’re not mad that I sent Liz to talk to you, right? You just seem to take  bad news from her so much better, and I figured I could handle Lucky and Nikolas for her—”

“I’d only be angry if you didn’t come to me,” Jason interrupted, and Emily let out a sigh of relief. “I’ve been making some calls, trying to find out how serious this is — if Dara’s playing with you or if we should be worried.”

“And?”

“It’s not likely they’re dismissing the charges,” Jason told her. “Maybe if it were another drug dealer, but it’s a dead cop. They’re looking to get the max. Death penalty,” he added when Emily frowned.

“I didn’t even think New York had that anymore.”

“No one’s been executed since the sixties, but, yeah, Death Row is still a thing. Dara’s counting on a cop killer not getting much public support.”

“So it won’t just be my word against his,” Emily said. “She was lying.”

“Not—” Jason paused, considered his response carefully. “She’s not wrong. Charges are probably going to stand, but a jury’s unpredictable. Maybe they convict, maybe they don’t. The only thing connecting Zander Smith to Ted Wilson is that body in the trunk.” He lifted his brows. “Gia Campbell could link them.”

“She could. But then she’d have to leave me out of it. She saw us both that night,” Emily told him.

“Right. And even if she was willing to leave you out of it, if Zander’s pointing at you guys for the frame job — they’ll ask about you. Or the others. I don’t know that we want to put any of this in Gia’s hands.”

“No, I don’t trust her. Nikolas might, but—” Emily sighed, sat back. “It’s a mess, isn’t it? We created a giant mess that first day, and there’s no way out.”

“It’s a mess,” Jason agreed, and she made a face. “I’m not going to lie to you. We don’t have a lot of options here. We need to stop this from going to trial or even to this hearing she’s talking about. Find a way to make Smith plead guilty or tie him to the whole thing.” He tipped his head. “When we found you, you weren’t so sure he was guilty. But now you are. What changed? Maybe there’s something in there.”

Emily stiffened, fisted her hands in her lap again. “I was stupid before. Okay? He seemed…he seemed lost. Confused. Scared. He told me that…that it wasn’t him that night. That it was someone else who worked for Sorel. That he stopped them from killing me, too.”

Jason sat back in his chair, considered her for a long moment. “He was lying to you.”

“I—” Emily frowned. “I know that. But how do you?”

“Because you don’t kill a cop and leave a witness. Especially a witness like you. They know who you are, Emily. Not just to me. But to the Quartermaines. High profile witness. No. That’s not how it went down.”

“I—I know. I—” Emily stopped. “I don’t remember anything about that night. Not really. But I woke up…without clothes on,” she said, dropping her eyes to the table. “And I wasn’t…nothing—I know nothing happened. I…” Her cheeks heated. “I just know. Trust me.”

He clenched his jaw. “Okay.”

“When we got home, when it was all over, after he’d been arrested, I—I just…I had this dream. This…” Her throat felt tight. “I think I remember someone taking off my clothes. I’d been having those flashes for weeks, but nothing that I could stitch together, and maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe I’m just thinking I remember it, but I think I remember it….being him.” A tear slid down Emily’s cheek, and she swiped at it. “Don’t—don’t tell anyone, okay? It’s…it’s not a big deal. Nothing even happened. But it made me think twice about his story. And now I think he was playing me. I think he wanted me to tell him about what we did. And—it worked.” She finally looked at him again, her eyes swimming. “I told him everything. Because I’m stupid, and I believed him.”

Hardy House: Living Room

“Hey, Gram.” Elizabeth set down the bags she’d brought home from work and crossed the room to greet her grandmother with a kiss on the cheek. “I thought you had plans with Bobbie, or I would have been home sooner.”

“Oh, well, I rescheduled them, darling.” Audrey sat on the sofa, patted the cushion next to her. “I wanted to hear about your day at work, and, well—I thought perhaps we might discuss something Bobbie shared with me when she called earlier.”

Elizabeth slowly lowered herself onto the sofa. “You heard about Kelly’s,” she said. She bit her lip, shook her head. “Silly to think it wouldn’t have gotten around. It happened in front of the whole diner, and now everyone knows, don’t they?”

“I can’t speak for everyone,” Audrey said, “but all I know right now is that you nearly fell down the stairs, and that Lucky seemed to cause the fall.” She reached for Elizabeth’s hand. “I won’t pry, darling, I promise. It’s just…you seemed so upset when you came here on Sunday, and I knew you’d quarreled with Lucky. I didn’t realize how badly it had gone. If you don’t want to speak about it, I’ll respect your wishes. I just…I thought you should know that I know. And that I’m here.”

Her eyes burned, and she looked away, squeezing her eyes closed. “I don’t really know what to say. I’m still not…” Elizabeth looked back at her grandmother. “Lucky and I had an argument on Sunday. About the job. Or it started that way. I was trying to tell him that I thought maybe this could be a way to get back something I lost after the rape, and…” She looked down at their intertwined hands, at her grandmother’s fingers, the wedding ring she still wore more than six years after losing her husband. “Lucky didn’t like me very much before. He liked me better after. He loved me,” she said softly. “And I was so amazed that someone would — no one  had. Not really. And Lucky was the first, I thought, to see me. The real me.”

She looked up towards the ceiling, trying to gather herself, to organize her thoughts. “But it wasn’t me. It was pieces of me, broken into jagged little pieces that I was desperately trying fit back together, you know? I… didn’t want to be around people. I didn’t want anyone to look at me. I wanted to disappear into a crowd.” Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “That’s who Lucky thought I was. Shy. Quiet. Submissive,” she added softly. “We never argued, because I just assumed he knew best. He’d taken such good care of me, Gram. He knew just what to do that night, even if I didn’t do it. He—he knew to get his aunt. A-and that I needed to feel safe, and that I needed to find out who did it—and he liked being my hero.”

“Oh, my darling.” Audrey touched her cheek, gently swiping away the tears that had continued to fall. “Do you think he doesn’t love you now?”

“I don’t think he knows me,” Elizabeth told her. “Or that he wants to see that I’ve changed. I’m more myself, again, you know? Not…not all the way. I think I’ve learned to be a little less reckless with people’s feelings. But I was so scared all the time, Gram. And now I’m not. Now I give into impulse, like agreeing to Chloe’s job when she asked me. A-and I spent all afternoon talking about fabric and materials and clothing, and it was so much fun. There were people everywhere, and it was crowded, and I didn’t feel scared, not even a little. This is the first time since that night that I’ve been on my own. Really on my own. And I love it.”

“I can tell. Your whole face lights up when you talk about it.” Audrey tipped her head. “What happened on Monday?” she asked gently.

“I just wanted to get away, to give us some more time, I needed more time. I packed my  things, and he was arguing with me the whole time, trying to stop me. A-and then when I was trying to go down the steps — he grabbed the strap of my bag. I lost my balance.” Elizabeth sighed. “I would have fallen all the way down, but Jason and Emily were at the diner, and they’d heard the yelling. They were already at the bottom of the stairs, and Jason—he caught me.”

“Well, then I suppose I owe Jason a thank you for his quick reflexes,” Audrey said, and Elizabeth laughed. “What?”

“That must have hurt to admit.”

“I can acknowledge when Jason’s done something useful,” Audrey said with a sniff, then smiled. “That doesn’t sound so bad. Bobbie’s description made me worried you were hiding broken bones or something.”

“I…was shaken up,” Elizabeth admitted, and Audrey’s smile faded slightly. “I know Lucky didn’t mean to hurt me. But he grabbed my bag to stop me. He didn’t care that I was on the steps, or that I told him—I told him no,” she said softly. “And he didn’t care, Gram. He didn’t care. He doesn’t understand what he’s done wrong. Or if he does, he doesn’t think it’s so terrible. But it is, Gram. How can I be with someone who only saw value in me after I’d been broken into pieces?”

Luke’s: Office

“Are you here about that business at Kelly’s the other day?” Luke asked, closing the office door behind him. Lucky turned at the desk, faced his father and scowled. “Because I didn’t think I’d have to tell you about putting your hands on a woman—”

“I’m not sure you have the right to tell me anything about treating a woman right,” Lucky said caustically. “I can handle my relationship, Dad. Elizabeth—she’s taking this job, and it’s fine. She wants it, whatever. I can support that. And I know how to fix it. She needs to see that she still needs me, that I can still be the guy she fell in love with.”

Luke folded his arms. “If you got all the answers, what do you need me for?”

“I said I know how to fix it, but what I mean is, I know what has to be done. I just…” Lucky shrugged. “I don’t know how to do it. But if I can make all this go away, if I can just save us all, I just know Elizabeth will forgive me.”

“Make all what go away?” Luke demanded. “What kind of trouble are you in?”

“That guy who kidnapped Emily? Zander Smith?” Lucky said. “I didn’t tell you the whole story. But he’s trying to say we put the dead cop in his trunk—and we did. Because  Zander killed him and left in a bed next to Emily, after he drugged her. We all tried to cover it, but it’s gone wrong. I messed it up, and now we’re all screwed. Unless I can make this go away.”

“You—” Luke exhaled slowly. “You played hide and seek with the body of a dead cop. Okay. I need a drink. Or ten. Then we’ll talk about how the hell to fix this.”

August 19, 2026

Update Link: The Archer – Part 13

I fixed the numbering on Long Live, because obviously the last update was only Part 3. Not much else to say — still trying to prep for the school year, still annoyed at how many things I didn’t get to this summer, and still terrible at waking up early.

This entry is part 13 of 14 in the Flash Fiction: The Archer

Written in 54 minutes.

Tuesday, October 16, 2000

Jake’s: Second Floor Hallway

Elizabeth’s fist hovered over the door, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to knock. Doubt mixed with wave of shame and embarrassment rolled through — this would be the first time she’d spoke to Jason since that awful scene in Kelly’s, and while she didn’t think Jason would force her to talk about it, it might be harder to push it aside.

She wasn’t very good at pretending around Jason.

Before she could make up her mind, the door was jerked open with an irritated Jason on the other side. “What are you waiting for—” He stopped, his expression immediately softening. “Oh. I didn’t know it was you. I could—” He paused. “I could see someone standing on the other side, not doing anything.”

Her cheeks heated, and Elizabeth folded her arms, her hands still balled into fists. “It’s fine. I—I wasn’t sure if you’d even be here. I saw your bike, but—I just—I didn’t know.”

“Do you—” He stepped back, gestured awkwardly towards the interior. “You can come in. Unless you need to go somewhere—”

“No, I can—I can—unless you have to—” She closed her eyes, let out an irritated huff. “This is so stupid. And awkward. For no good reason. You’re probably not sure what to say to me since I fell apart yesterday, and I’m freaking out because you saw me fall apart, and now I can barely look at you because I’m just trying to forget it—” She stopped, forced herself to look at him, her irritation ratcheting up when she saw the amusement in his eyes. “You’re laughing at me.”

“Not at you. At—you’re right,” he admitted. “I’m worried about you, but I don’t want to push. Especially if you don’t want to talk about it.” Jason tilted his head. “But you came here anyway, so whatever it is, it seems important.”

Relief spread so quickly that she nearly felt dizzy from the switch. Of course he understood. Jason always understood. “It is. Important, I mean.”

“Then come on in.”

Kelly’s: Dining Room

Emily swung her bag on the table, and sat across from Lucky and Nikolas. She’d called Nikolas to set up the meeting and had deliberately waited into the courtyard until she’d seen them both sitting at a table.

She wasn’t about to let herself be alone with Lucky — not with her anger still so close to the surface. Elizabeth had made it clear that she wasn’t ready to deal with it, and it wasn’t Emily’s place to force the issue.

“Em, I’m so glad you called—” Lucky began, leaning forward. “I need to talk to you, to make you understand—”

“This isn’t about yesterday,” Emily interrupted. “We’re not discussing it,” she continued when Lucky scowled. “And if you can’t respect that I don’t want to talk to you about it, then I’ll leave and tell Nikolas later. I’ll cut you out of this conversation entirely, Lucky.”

His expression soured and he leaned back, slouching in his chair. “Guess I’ve been convicted and sentenced to life already. You’re not even giving me—wait, wait—” He held out his hand when Emily shot to her feet. “Okay. Fine. I’ll accept your terms. On the condition that you’ll eventually hear me out. You’re my friend, too,” he reminded her.

Emily slowly lowered herself back into the chair, keeping her gaze steady on Lucky’s. “I don’t need to hear you out, Lucky. I know what I saw, and I don’t care about why. I just don’t. This isn’t a situation where I can stay neutral. Maybe Nikolas can. He wasn’t here. But I was. And I saw it. Push me again on this before I’m ready, Lucky, and I’m going to walk out that door and it’s the last you’ll hear from me.”

“Lucky agrees,” Nikolas said, before his brother could say another word. Lucky shot him a dirty look. “What’s going on? You said on the phone it was important. You were supposed to meet with Dara this morning. Is it—did it go badly or something?”

“You could say that.”

Jake’s: Jason’s Room

Jason rubbed the back of his neck, wincing as Elizabeth described the meeting Emily had had with Dara that morning. He wasn’t a man to look back or point out mistakes, particularly when the person knew they’d hadn’t handled a situation well. And he knew that Elizabeth and Emily had their own regrets how they’d handled finding Ted Wilson dead in a bed beside Emily that summer.

Elizabeth stood in front of him, twisting her fingers together, her expression pained, her eyes looking everywhere but at him. “Emily and I decided the best way to handle this is…to not handle it ourselves. Or at least not by ourselves. She’s telling Nikolas and Lucky because…well, it’s obvious. And I volunteered to tell you because she already feels stupid enough about this.”

“I wish you’d keep them out of it,” Jason muttered before he could stop himself, but he felt better when Elizabeth finally met his gaze and the corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile. “I know why you’re telling them but the last thing any of us need is them going off and handling it on their own.”

“Emily and I are hoping we can stop them because we’re telling you right away. And Emily’s making it clear to them if they do something without the agreement of all of us, she’ll never forgive them. We have to tell them — they’re in just as much trouble as Emily and I—and you might not care about that—”

“I don’t, and neither should you.” Jason folded his arms. “You both wanted to go for more help. You both recognized this was bigger than both of you, and you let yourselves be talked into making it worse—”

Elizabeth made a face. “Okay, well, listen, don’t let us off the hook, okay? Yes, in hindsight, our plan was horrible. But in the moment, it felt right. And I didn’t just go along with it, Jason. I agreed—because I didn’t know any better. Don’t treat me and Emily like we’re dumb girls, okay? We both went in, head first—”

“Okay, then all four of you are brainless,” Jason said, and she huffed, looked away. “You’re right, you didn’t know any better, and now Emily’s facing perjury if she gets on that stand and tells a lie. A provable lie. Didn’t Taggert’s sister know what was going on? She could flip on you.” When Elizabeth opened her mouth. “And don’t tell me that you have information on her.  A cop’s murder is more important than extortion. Emily is the bigger target. Especially if they think they can get to me. How sure are you that Gia Campbell is going to keep her mouth shut?”

Elizabeth folded her arms again, arched a brow. “How long have you been holding that in?”

“What?”

“I knew you were irritated with us, I guess I just didn’t realize how much. And, okay, you’re right. On every level. We were brainless. Immature. And stupid. But in my defense, it was my first dead body,” she retorted. “And we screwed up. And this is why Emily was so eager to let me fill you in. Because she didn’t want you to be disappointed in her again.”

Jason scowled. “Don’t do that. Don’t come for me for help, and then get pissed at me because I’m pointing out the biggest problem in any plan we come up with. Gia Campbell is a problem. She knows the truth. Her brother’s a cop. Her loyalty is not to you. Or to Emily.”

Elizabeth sighed, some of the frustration fading. “I know. You’re right. You’re right. I’m sorry.” She sat on the edge of the bed, looked at her hands. “I know we screwed this up. And I get that we probably screwed it up so bad it can’t be fixed. I just—Emily was in trouble. We wanted to make it go away.”

“I know.” Jason sat next to her, and was relieved when she twisted to face him. “I know. When Emily needs you, you’ve got her back. I just…don’t know how we get out of any of it,” he told her. “Zander Smith is telling the truth when he says you put the body in his trunk. And the only person who links Zander to that cop is Gia Campbell. She saw him with the drugs, she saw him with the cop the night he went missing—”

“But she also saw him with Emily,” Elizabeth finished, “and if she leaves that out—she’s committing perjury, too. And has no reason to protect any of us unless Nikolas pays her off.” She paused. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter what any of us do. We can’t control her. And if she decided to go tell the truth and wash her hands of this entire nightmare, I wouldn’t even blame her.”

She met his gaze. “I’m sorry. I know I’m dropping an even bigger mess in your hands than it would have been even a month ago. I take accountability for letting Lucky and Nikolas convince us that it would be better to leave you out of it. They made us feel like we were protecting you. The last thing you need is to be associated with a dead cop.”

He reached for her hand. “I can handle it. I don’t have a reputation to protect, but you and Emily — you do. And I’m going to do whatever I have to so that this doesn’t ruin that. I promise. Give me a day or two to find out how serious this is — Dara might have been trying to scare Emily into saying something against me.”

“That’s true.” Elizabeth squeezed his hand, then released it and got to her feet. “Maybe it’s all a bluff. That would be the best option.”

Jason rose. “Do you have a ride home or—”

“Oh, Emily dropped me after dinner. She was going to pick me up after and take me back to my car at Charlie’s.”

“I can do that,” he offered.

Elizabeth brightened. “On the bike? We could take the long way.”

Jason grinned, then reached for the door. “Yeah, we can.”

August 17, 2026

Update Link: The Archer – Part 12

Hello! Hope everyone is doing well! I had the worst night sleep last night — couldn’t fall asleep until midnight, woke up at 1, couldn’t sleep again for three hours, and then overslept until 11. Pretty sure that’s the first side effect I’ve had from the meds — they said it would cause trouble sleeping so hopefully I’ll be able to get that sorted. The most annoying thing about starting medications is how long it takes to build the therapeutic levels in your body (6-8 weeks) but side effects are immediate booo.

I’m updating The Archer M/W/F this week, and I am hoping to do Long Live Tues/Thurs but those are optional. I still have to add it to the Flash Fiction page. See you later 🙂

This entry is part 12 of 14 in the Flash Fiction: The Archer

Written in 60 minutes.

Tuesday, October 16, 2000

Luke’s: Bar

Jason lifted the bottle to his mouth. “It’s exactly what I said,” he told Luke, then took a long pull from the bottle before setting it back on the bar. “We need to talk about something else—”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get to all that.” Luke came around the bar properly, leaned down to grab a shot glass and a bottle from behind them. “Is Liz okay?”

Because Jason read the question as sincere, he answered. “As far as I know. But I haven’t seen her since she left the diner. You’ll have to take it up with her or Lucky if you want more—”

“I just don’t get it,” Luke muttered. He tossed back the alcohol, wincing slightly at the burn of the alcohol. “This isn’t him. This isn’t who he is. He doesn’t put his hands on women. He’s not—” He stared at the bottom of the empty shot glass. “He’s not that guy.”

Jason exhaled slowly. “I don’t think he intended for her to fall or lose her balance,” he said carefully, because it was true and a fair statement even it was physically painful to give the bastard any benefit of the doubt. “But she was trying to get away from him. I don’t know why.  If you want to know what happened before that—”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll—I’ll have to deal with it.” Luke made a face, rolled his shoulders. “Okay, talk to me. Why are you here?”

Charlie’s Pub: Dining Room

“You know, this place isn’t that bad.” Emily picked up the menu, flipped it open. “I always forget it’s here.” She looked across the table at Elizabeth, who was staring at the menu with more concentration than was required. “I guess we’re not going to back to Kelly’s for a while.”

“Or ever,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. She set the menu down, dragged a hand through her hair. “Tammy and I had some words after I gave my two week notice, so I wouldn’t trust any food I got anyway.”

“Oh. Well, that’s…” Emily blew out a rush of air. “I never liked her anyway.” She folded her arms on the table, leaned in. “How was the first day? Did you just love it?”

The waitress arrived, and they put in the orders. When she’d left, Elizabeth  unwrapped a straw, slid it in her water. “I did actually. I didn’t know if the assistant I’m replacing temporarily would be nice or not, but I liked her. I got to sit in on a fabric purchase meeting which sounds really boring, but you know, it wasn’t? They were debating chiffon or silk, and cotton blends—” She bit her lip, a h int of sparkle coming to her eyes. “I see your eyes glazing over. Anyway, it was a good day. It was exactly what I needed.”

“Good. I’m glad you took the job, that you started it, all of it.”

“Me, too. Hey, didn’t you have to meet with Dara today? How’d that go?”

Emily wrinkled her nose, then sighed. “I guess I can’t really avoid it, because we definitely have to talk about it. I don’t know what we expected, but Zander Smith is telling everyone we put the body in the trunk to frame him.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, set her water on the table very carefully. “What did Dara think about that?”

“She doesn’t seem to believe it,” Emily answered, “but she’s worried they’ll throw out the murder charge, and then it comes down to just the kidnapping. I have to testify at a hearing. I’m…concerned,” she added, “because you know….there’s perjury and everything.”

Elizabeth leaned in, lowered her voice. “You think he…has something to support his side of it?”

“I don’t know how, but what…what if he tells people that, and then someone from the motel—” Emily fisted her hands in her lap. “I’m just afraid, Liz. I wanted it to all be over, you know? I was so stupid. From start to finish—it was my idea to go to that stupid rave, I got upset—”

“Because Juan’s a dirtbag—” Elizabeth shook her head. “Em, we’re in this together. Because we’ve taken every step together. Going to that rave. Everything that followed. We all agreed. Even if it turns out the plan was insane and never going to work.”

“I know, I just—” Emily chewed on her bottom lip. “It just all seems so impossible. A week ago, I was home, and it seemed like it was over. And we were all happy, planning the next chapter. Now…it’s all back on the table, and it feels like we’re all so far apart—and I’m not blaming you—” she hurried to add when Elizabeth looked away, out the window of the pub. “Liz, I’m not—”

“I know. But there’s a reason you’re telling me one-on-one, isn’t there?” she asked Emily. “Because right now, it’s not like I can be in a room with Lucky. Or want to be.”

“The reason is you’re my best friend, and you’re the one I want to go to when I have a problem,” Emily said. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this mess is that loyalty should only go so far. I let Lucky run the show this summer because I thought he needed to. And because I’d always been able to rely on him. I didn’t pay attention to what he was saying or why. I just wanted it all to go away, and Lucky made me believe it could. He was my first friend here. He stuck with me when a lot of people didn’t. And he didn’t even blink when all that stuff with the photos started, you know? He just dove in to help. He was my first friend,” Emily repeated, “and I thought that had to count for something.”

“I know—”

“But he didn’t listen. And he couldn’t admit that he didn’t have all the answers. The second my brother came home, I should have ran to him. I should have asked Sonny for help. I didn’t—”

“Neither did I. We all agreed, Em,” Elizabeth repeated. “This isn’t just on you. I agreed to the plan. Because…you’re right. Lucky needed to. He was almost…” She paused. “There were flashes of who he used to be, and I kept clinging to them. Kept thinking if I just stayed on his side, kept following his lead, he’d come back to me.” Her voice faltered, and she swallowed hard. “And then he did. And for a magical few days, you’re right. It was like the sun was shining again, and we were all going to be happy.”

She swiped at an errant tear that escaped, then looked at Emily. “But it wasn’t real. It was always just a dream.”

Emily reached across the table, squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “We’re going to get through this, Liz. You and me. You’re my best friend, and I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Elizabeth cleared her throat, sipped her water. “Okay. So what do we do? How do we fix this?”

Kelly’s Diner: Lucky’s Room

Lucky grimaced when he opened his door to find his brother on the other side. “You here to yell at me, too?”

Nikolas lifted his brows. “That depends on what you did. Mom called me,” he added, “and it was all I could to do convince her that confronting you was the last thing that would work, that she should let me handle it.” He gestured past Lucky. “Are you going to let me in, or—”

Lucky rolled his eyes, but stepped back. “Thanks. For getting her back off.”

“It’s temporary,” Nikolas warned him. He swept his eyes over the room, then came back to look at Lucky. “You look like hell.”

Suddenly very aware of the fact that he hadn’t showered or changed in the last two days, Lucky scowled. He crossed to his dresser, yanked out jeans and a shirt, then went into the tiny bathroom that could barely fit the shower stall, sink, and toilet. He switched on the hot water. “Look, if you want to tell me I’m an asshole, it’ll have to wait.”

He closed the door, shed his clothes, then got in the shower. A moment later, he felt some of the steam dissipate and realized the door had opened. “Dude.”

“Dude,” Nikolas repeated in a mocking tone. “You’re not getting out this that easy. Everyone’s saying you shoved Elizabeth down the stairs. I called Emily last night, and she said she’s not really sure what happened — but that Elizabeth almost fell because you grabbed her. Do I at least have that part straight?”

Lucky squeezed shampoo in his hair, scrubbed it into his hair. “It was an accident.”

“I’m sure it was.”

Lucky peeled back the curtain slightly, glaring at his brother leaning in the doorframe. “Don’t say it that way. It was.”

“Then how did you accidentally grab her? And why?”

Lucky put his head back under the spray, letting the scalding water rinse the suds, the steam almost painful. “We had a fight,” but this came out on a mutter that couldn’t have been heard, and Lucky knew it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his brother.

It wasn’t enough for what he’d done.”

He put his hand out of the stall. “Give me the towel and get out to let me get dressed.”

When he emerged from the bathroom, clean and in fresh clothes, hair hair laying damp at his temples, Nikolas was waiting for him, standing at the windows that looked over the parking lot.

“It’s like standing outside of myself,” Lucky told him. “I can tell you what happened. I can tell you the facts, but I can’t—” He shook his head, grimaced again. “I can’t tell you why. Because I don’t understand it. I—she was packing her things.”

“Emily said Elizabeth’s starting a job with Chloe.” Nikolas tipped his head to the side. “It’s an amazing opportunity for her. I think we can both agree that she’s outgrown being a waitress, and it’s a way to put her skills and artistic eye to good use.”

“I—” Lucky sat on the edge of the bed. “She told me about it,” he said, “and I…told her not to do it. I guess. Not in those words exactly,” he added, “but I told her we just got back together, and she was gonna take this job where she’d be travel and working long hours—”

“And not living next door or working downstairs,” Nikolas finished. He folded his arms. “Not accessible to you at all hours.”

“That’s—” True. And awful. “Yes.” Lucky looked at his brother. “And maybe we would have been able to get past that, because I was an asshole, and I can admit it. But it took this turn, and I don’t know how we got there, but we did—”

He looked down at the floor, stared hard at the thin carpet. “She told me she wanted to take this job because she used to like fashion. Was really into clothing and all that. Before. She lost that. And she wanted it back.” He exhaled slowly. “She wanted it back,” he repeated.

Nikolas frowned. “Not really seeing the problem—”

Lucky lifted his gaze back to his brother. “She said something about me not knowing about that, about not really knowing her before. She’s right. I didn’t. I knew she hated her sister. I knew she was a brat and selfish. But that’s it. She was reckless, and impulsive, and it blew up in her face all the time.” He raked a hand through his damp hair. “I said something stupid about there not being anything worth knowing, and yeah,” he said, gesturing at Nikolas. “That’s basically the way my dad looked when I told him that.”

“You’re a fucking moron.”

“She just took it too far, and all the wrong way, okay? I just meant that she was immature before—”

“And she’s mature now?” Nikolas demanded. “So, what, she needed to be raped so she’d mature enough for you?”

“Don’t—don’t act like that’s what I’m saying. I’m not,” Lucky retorted, lunging to his feet. “I’m not saying I love because she was raped. That’s disgusting. I’m not like that. But it changed her, okay? And I’m not going to pretend it didn’t. Because she’s not like that anymore. She’s kind, and generous. And compassionate—”

“And she might have been all those things before that night, Lucky, but neither of us took the time to get to know her, did we? We just saw her through Sarah’s eyes,” Nikolas retorted. “Not taking the time to get to know her is one thing, and admitting that is fair. But telling her that she’s only worth knowing because she got raped?”

“It’s not what I said—”

“But it’s how it sounds. And it sounds that way to everyone but you, Lucky, so maybe you should think about that.” Nikolas scowled, shook his head. “So you tell her this colossally stupid thing, and she decides to break up with you, packs her things, and she’s leaving, and you grab her to stop—”

“I grabbed her bag,” Lucky interrupted.

“That was attached to her body,” Nikolas shot back. “You moron.”

“Look, I get that — it was an accident! I’d never hurt Elizabeth! Stop acting like I’m some kind of abusive asshole. That’s not me. I’m not my father.” Lucky swallowed. “I’m not my father. I won’t be. So I have to find a way to fix this. And I will. Fix this. You have to help me fix this.” When Nikolas just looked skeptical, Lucky forced himself to say it again. “Please.”

Nikolas rolled his eyes. “Look, I’ll see if we can make this better, but fixing it? You better hope Elizabeth is a lot more kind and generous than I would be.”

“She is. You’ll see. I’ll make this up to her, and it’ll all be like it was before. You’ll see.”

August 13, 2026

Update: Long Live – Part 3

Welp, it’s August 13, and there’s only two full weeks of summer vacation left. I report on August 31 for staff development. I’m going into my classroom for a day on Aug 24 just to see what it looks like, if my order is there, etc, and to deal with technology. So…it’s over. And somehow, I never got caught up with laundry. Diabolical.

I’ve been trying to shift updates back to 4-7 to account for the schedule changes 🙂

This entry is part 3 of 3 in the Mad World: Long Live

Written in 69 minutes. Sorry last scene took awhile — I really wanted to end on that line but it took a bit to get it right.

It was the end of a decade
But the start of an age

 It still didn’t feel real. None it did. Not the diamond on her finger —it wasn’t the same as the one she’d worn a decade earlier, but another elegant selection from the family collection that had belonged to Edward’s mother.

Not the view stretching out in front of her, the green of Central Park as far as the eye could see, bordered by elegant buildings climbing towards the sky. Or the luxurious room behind her — with the master bedroom, a dressing room, two bathrooms —

A year ago, she and her boys had still been crammed into the two bedroom apartment in her mother’s brownstone. Though, of course, they’d been splitting their time between that apartment and the estate proper, with more and more time at the mansion.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Carly turned, a smile coming to her face at the sound of her husband’s voice — the most unreal piece of her reality. “Oh, they’re worth far more than that,” she said as AJ approached her, sliding his arms around her waist, then turning so that she was fitted against him and they both looked through the window that stretched from floor to ceiling. “It’s more beautiful in person. All I’ve seen are pictures up until now,” she said. “Where are the boys?”

“In the media room playing video games.” AJ kissed the side of her neck, stroked her arms again, then took a few steps back. “Have I convinced you yet?”

Carly sighed, looked around the room again. “It’s beautiful,” she repeated. “But the thought of leaving Port Charles, being here full-time? Away from our family?”

“It’s not that far away,” AJ said. “We can be home within two hours. I know,” he continued when she opened her mouth, “I know that we’d be taking the boys from their support network. But there’s plenty of room here. Bobbie can visit as much as she wants.”

“I’m being ridiculous, I know. With Ned not running for another term, he’ll be back at ELQ next year, and we could start the boys at school in September.” Carly sat on the edge of the bed, her toes digging into the plush carpet. “Part of me is still…getting used to my mother not  being downstairs. Again, I know how that sounds, but—”

“It wasn’t just Bobbie downstairs,” AJ said. He sat next to her. “It was Lucas and Felix across the hall. Jason a few blocks away at the Towers. I know how important they are to you. And it’s not a decision I’d make lightly either. My family is closer now than we’ve ever been. My parents aren’t divorcing every other year, Jason and I aren’t in boarding school, separated, forgotten except at holidays.” His lips curled into a half-smile. “I’m not drowning in alcohol.”

She reached for his hand, squeezed it. “I know that change is a good thing. And sometimes I have to be pushed off a cliff to make it happen. If Alexis hadn’t suggested asking you for help, if Ned hadn’t been willing to smooth the way…” She looked away, sighed. “It’s just…this time of year. I hate December, and I hate June. And July,” she muttered. She scrubbed her hands through her hair, then got to her feet. “We still have time before we have to decide, right? I mean, this penthouse is here and it belongs to ELQ whether we move here full-time or not, right?”

“We have time. We could try coming on the weekends—wait—” He dug into his pocket, tugged out the cell phone that was vibrating. He furrowed his brow. “It’s Jason.”

Jason and AJ were on better terms now than they’d ever been, but not close enough for Jason to calling him casually. Carly rose to her feet, folding her arms tightly across her chest, waiting for whatever bomb was about to drop.

—

Jason sat next to his sister, his phone still in his hand. “AJ and Carly are leaving now. They’ll be here in a few hours.”

“Good, good.” Emily, still dressed in her blue surgical scrubs, sat rigidly in the chair across from Tony Jones. “I still don’t understand why Dad went to you, Tony. You’re not a heart specialist—I’m not trying to insult you—”

“No insult taken,” Tony told her, holding his hand up. “I did encourage him to keep his family in loop, and I think he intended to tell you all, it’s just…” He paused. “Good things were happening,” he said, “and I think he just didn’t want to change that.”

“Moni—Mom,” Jason said, stopping himself, and he saw his sister look at him, the first hint of tears in her eyes. He swallowed hard, kept his focus on Tony. “Mom wasn’t able to give us a lot of details. What’s going on?”

“About two years ago, Alan came to me — he’d had some symptoms that were troubling him, and when the chest pain started — well,” Tony tipped his head, “he’d had a mild heart attack.”

“Two years ago?” Emily asked. She let out a breath. “Jake. Right? It was when Jake was born. There was a day — I couldn’t get a hold of him and we were supposed to come see Elizabeth with Jake. I knew something was wrong. Dad said he lost track of time, but I let it go. I let it go,” she repeated.

“Em—” Jason reached across the space that separated their chairs. “It’s okay.”

“Yes,” Tony confirmed. “Alan had the heart attack two days after his grandson was born. He did not want anyone involved. Spirits were high, he told me, for the first time since Lila had passed away, and I knew…I knew they’d worried about Elizabeth’s health. Alan didn’t want to bring any of that down.”

“Stupid,” Emily muttered.

“I don’t disagree, but I was his doctor, and I had my orders,” Tony said. “We diagnosed him with coronary artery disease, which we kept under control with medication for the first year. However, over the second, we’ve had to change the dosages more than once, we’ve reached our limit to what we can do through chemicals. Alan’s developed chronic ischemic cardiomyopathy.”

“What’s that?” Jason asked. It wasn’t one of the strange pieces of medical knowledge his brain had held on to. “What does that mean?”

“It means that Dad’s coronary arteries — the ones around and in his heart — are too narrow or are blocked. The heart isn’t getting enough oxygen, and isn’t pumping effectively—” Emily stopped, closed her eyes. “Let me guess. Dad’s too weak for the kinds of procedures that we’d need to fix it. We can’t reopen his arteries—”

“Until and unless we can get some stabilization of his blood pressure, among other things, no, it would be too risky to put Alan through any of it. And even if we could get the arteries to flow better—” Tony hesitated. “The heart muscle itself is now damaged.”

It couldn’t be fixed. Couldn’t be changed. Couldn’t be improved. Jason stared at the edge of Tony’s desk, concentrating on the grain of the wood, the swoops and swirls. He didn’t have a task. There wasn’t another step to take. No treatment to track down. No one left to call.

Emily’s voice sounded far away now. “How long do you think, Tony? H-How long?”

“It’s hard to know for sure,” Tony told her. “Days, weeks.”

“But not months,” she said softly. She closed her eyes, tears staining her cheeks. “You can keep him comfortable?”

“That’s what we’re doing now,” Tony said. “I—I’m sorry.”

—

Elizabeth lifted Jake from the highchair and set him on the floor so that the toddler could rush into the living room where his toys were kept. She stood at the threshold so that she could watch him. “I don’t know if there’s more we should be doing. I thought about going to the estate, but Monica said they haven’t told Edward yet.”

“Probably worried what the news will to do to him,” Tamika Ward said with a sigh of her own. “I told you, I’d stay with the kids, and Justus will bring Kimi here when she’s done dance lessons. You can go back to the hospital.”

“I know. And I should be there.” Elizabeth folded her arms, her fingers digging into the sides. “I know that Cameron’s cold isn’t serious. The treatment isn’t even that difficult—”

“Took that little mask like a champ,” Tamika said.

“He did. And he’s sitting up, watching his cartoons like nothing’s wrong. I just—” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then stopped, looked at Tamika. “I don’t ever take that for granted, you know? The ability to breathe. I know by all rights, I shouldn’t even be here. That the boys shouldn’t be here. Medical miracle.” She looked back into the living room where Jake was building his tower and Cameron sat on the sofa, propped against a pillow. Curled up next to him was the Teddy, English bulldog they’d bought him for Christmas, his head resting on Cameron’s legs. Cameron’s shadow.  Every once in a while, there’d be a ragged cough, and she’d have to physically stop herself from going to check him, to listen to him breathe, to put her hand against his heart, feel it pump against her palm.

“It was foolish to think that the only effect of all that would be Cameron’s glasses. Mikki, the idea of putting him through those pulmonary tests—”

“You’re not there yet,” Tamika told her, crossing the kitchen. “You’re not. He’s got a cold, and he’s a little miserable from it. You can’t be like this every time he gets sick. He’s in school now, babe. Do you want to know how many times Kimi brings home a cold that she shares with us? Kids touch everything, and everyone.” Elizabeth opened her mouth, and Tamika put up a finger. “And don’t tell me that Kimi’s immune system is different or because she wasn’t a preemie, it worries me less. Every time I send my baby girl out the door, I think about the world and how terrible it is.”

“God. I was—I was going to say Kimi and Cam aren’t the same,” Elizabeth said with a wrinkle of her nose. “And that’s an awful thing to say—” She exhaled on a rush. “Okay. Cameron’s okay. And I’m needed at the hospital. That’s where I should be. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. We’re family.” Tamika embraced her swiftly, rubbed her back. “You’d do the same for me.”

“I would. I’ll call you if anything changes.”

—

Jason hated these hallways as much as Elizabeth did — maybe more. He’d been the one awake for the days she’d lay unconscious in the coma following her first pulmonary embolism, after Cameron’s birth, after her surgery—he’d spent the better part of that year in the halls of General Hospital, and he was more than happy to leave it behind.

Monica was at Alan’s side when Jason appeared in the doorway, a forced smile stretched across her face. “Alan, look who’s here.”

Jason had been avoiding looking at the figure in the bed, not in any hurry to see that it belonged to his father. To the man he’d spent most of his remembered life pushing away, shoving him to the edges where he barely played a role.

He didn’t watch to see Alan in the bed, didn’t want that picture in his head. Would rather think about the ways they’d rebuilt — the first time Jason had held Cameron, when they’d conspired to let Cameron think Santa had brought him a puppy—

“Jason.”

His name on Alan’s lips — the voice sounding tired, stretched too thin — Jason finally raised his gaze to find his father looking at him. His face was pale, but he was smiling. Not so terribly different than it had been a week ago, when they’d gone to the estate for dinner.

“Come in,” Monica said, getting to her feet, gesturing for him to come closer, and Jason could see the desperation in her eyes, the trembling in her hands. He took that hand now, wrapping his around it, and he felt her body shudder. “Did you talk to AJ?”

“Yes. He and Carly are on their way back tonight.” Jason came into the room properly. “Emily’s taking care of Spencer and Lila — Nikolas is in London, so she needs to get them picked up from daycare. But she’ll be up in a minute.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m going—I’m going to make sure she doesn’t need me.” Monica left the room, and Jason looked at his father.

“She’s angry at me,” Alan told him.

Jason took the seat Monica had vacated. “Can you blame her?” he asked his father. “You’ve been sick for two years.”

“I…I wanted to say something,” Alan said. “But there was always a reason. Jake was here, and we were all so happy he was healthy, that Elizabeth came through, and then it was Christmas, and Emily was pregnant with our sweet Lila, and Carly and AJ were getting married —” Every word came slowly, almost painfully. “My children were flourishing, and I’ve been so proud. Can you…can you understand why I kept quiet?”

“I can understand,” Jason acknowledged, and Alan’s face relaxed. “But that doesn’t mean I like it. This wasn’t how it should have happened.”

“No, I know. Monica deserved better.”

“We all did,” Jason told him, and Alan nodded. “But we’re here now…Dad.”

“Dad,” Alan echoed, looking at him with a mixture of surprise and warmth. “Well, now I know I’m dying.”

August 10, 2026

Update Link: Long Live – Part 2

The creative muse is so weird. I posted the first part of this on Friday, and then my brain was like oh hey I know how to do that thing in Archer now, and you know what, I have. I just have to deal with the pacing. I’m not going to break it down scene by scene, but I want to know the general order of things because there’s a thing I want to pull of and it really only works if it’s happening at the same as another thing–That will make sense one day.

In other writing news, I am so happy so many of you were excited to go back to this universe. I have such a soft spot for this world because it was a crazy ambitious thing I managed to pull off in a timely manner (the fact that I posted Book 1 in 2018 and book 4 in 2022 is insane now). I also set up so many bread crumbs and loose threads that I could tug if I wanted.

I honestly was just so desperate to write something and this was the only idea that seemed like it was workable. I literally opened the Scrivener project folder ten minutes before I started writing, and threw together a format idea, lol. It’s named for Long Live, by Taylor Swift and was going to be part of that collection (All books in Mad World are titled after a song because I am creatively bankrupt), and I promise you there’s a reason, lol.

Anyway — I’m going to switch off — update Long Live this week, and then The Archer and go back and forth. I had a lot of fun doing that with Chain Reaction and Warning Shots and it worked really well I think.

In personal news, I had my appointment on Friday with a psychiatrist to talk about possible treatments and ADHD. He surprised me by suggesting that most of the symptoms I was associating with ADHD could be that, but were more likely an outgrowth of anxiety. The good news is that medication he gave me should help with either. I started on Saturday, and am hopeful to see some improvements eventually.

This entry is part 2 of 3 in the Mad World: Long Live

Written in 59 minutes. Fixed the format (well changed it lol)

I said remember this feeling
I passed the pictures around
Of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines
Wishing for right now

April 2009

Emily stripped the scrub cap from her head, letting her messy brown hair fall to her shoulders. She’d  chopped it off a few months earlier, exhausted from a long day at work, an even longer night with a toddler and a newborn on her own with Nikolas in London for another trip. She didn’t have the patience for a hair dryer to tame it after a much needed hot shower, so she’d reached for the nearest scissors and hacked at it.

“You did everything you could.”

Emily shook her head, shoved her hands through her hair, letting her fingers link at the nape of her neck and rest there. “Do you really think that’s going to comfort the parents in the waiting room?” she wanted to know. She tipped her head back. “Why did I think being a pediatric surgeon was a good idea?”

Patrick Drake leaned against the metal sink, folding his arms. “We save more than we lose, Em. You think it gets easier because my patients are usually older? You knew it was a long shot. That’s why you called me in.”

“I know. I know.” She exhaled slowly, staring out into the operating room where nurses were cleaning up, and one of the residents was carefully stitching the chest of the five-year-old they’d lost on the table. Tears burned hot in her eyes. “He’s Cam’s age, you know?”

“You can’t do that. Em.” He touched her shoulder. “You can’t do that. The next kid might be Spencer’s age. The one last week was Lila’s. You need a break. A long one.”

“Maybe you’re right. Nikolas wants to take Spencer to Greece this summer, you know, to see the island.” She rubbed her bare arms. “Lila will be old enough for a flight.”

“Well, I was talking about tomorrow, but—” Patrick followed her out the hallway and down the hallway to the hub of the surgery floor. Emily had retrieved her beeper and was flicking through her pages. “Anything good?”

“No. Just a call from my mother, but it’s the when you’ve got time code,” Emily told her. She stopped at the counter, flicked through the other charts but Patrick stopped her from plucking a new one. “What?”

“You’ve got time. Go call your mom, go home, see your kids—”

Emily pursed her lips. “Why are you being so friendly? Why are you interfering with my life? What’s wrong? Did you and Robin have another fight, because I don’t—”

Patrick rolled his eyes, walked in the other direction. “Fine, don’t call your mom. Jump off a cliff. I don’t care.”

“That’s more like it,” she called after him, but he had a point, and maybe her mother would have something to perk her up.

—

For the last two years, Elizabeth had reported to the hospital five days a week, splitting her hours between the family clinic where she worked as a licensed family counselor, the free clinic on the first floor where she saw urgent cases, and the meetings she ran for sexual assault survivors. She went to the pediatrics floor regularly for Cameron and Jake, to catch up with Emily when the fifth-year resident had time—

The one area of the hospital she avoided like the plague was the tenth floor and the ICU.

Though it had been almost six years since the summer she’d spent recovering from the pulmonary embolism, it was impossible to completely shed the way it felt to be on the floor, to see the clear walls of the patient rooms, being on display while her reputation had been shredded in tabloids and to anyone who listened—

The floor looked the same — the hub for the nurses and doctors, the waiting room, and the three hallways that branched out from the hub, each with lined with patient rooms whose residents were clearly visible.

Monica was in the waiting room, rising to her feet, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. “You came so quickly—oh. I didn’t—you have Cameron—” She furrowed her brow. “But not Jake. So you didn’t come from daycare. What’s wrong?”

Cameron, at the sound of his grandmother’s voice, lifted his head from his father’s shoulder. “Gammy. Hi.”

“Hey there, sweetheart.” Monica stroked Cameron’s curls, her fingerstips sliding across his forehead. “He has a fever?”

“A cold,” Jason clarified. “It’s—it’s fine. We were on our way home, but we can’t take him to daycare—”

“No, of course not. I’m—” Monica took a deep breath. “I just—I was ready, and then I saw Cameron—”

“Why don’t I take him?” Elizabeth suggested, holding her hands out. “We’ll go sit over there, and you can talk to your mom—”

“Your patient—”

“I have a little while, and I’ll call Bobbie if we need to.”

Jason gently transferred their son into Elizabeth’s arms, not releasing his grip until he was satisfied, but then watched them cross over to the side of the waiting room and settle in one of the chairs.

“Just a cold?” Monica said gently, and he looked back at his mother, at her worried expression.

“There’s a little more, but it can wait. You—” He looked past her, from one hallway to the next. “You said Alan was here.”

“He is. He was admitted last night,” Monica said, then pursed her lips. “And then Tony and I had a conversation where it became clear that it wasn’t the first time Alan had seen a doctor.”

Jason frowned. “Tony’s—he’s a neurosurgeon—is it a tumor, or—”

“He was hiding it from me, so he put all his testing through Tony’s service.” Monica shook her head. “It’s—it’s his heart. God.” She closed her eyes, tilted her head up. “It’s his heart, and he wouldn’t tell me. This is what I do. This is who I am—and I can’t even be furious at him when we’re in the same room because there’s not enough time to be angry—”

Not enough time. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

Monica stopped, pressed her lips together, clearly fighting to calm herself. “Last night, he couldn’t catch his breath. Couldn’t breathe. He had no choice, but to tell me. It’s heart failure. To put it bluntly. ”

“Heart failure,” Jason repeated. “Okay. What do we do? What—the treatment. What’s the—” He stopped when his mother looked away. Not enough time. “Mom.”

“He’s had heart problems for years, but we’ve managed it through medication, health, diet — he wanted to stay healthy especially now. Especially with—” She turned away, took another breath to steady herself. “With the grandchildren coming, and how…he didn’t want to take it for granted. This second chance for our kids to be with us. You, AJ, and Emily. We have holidays and birthdays and weekly dinners, he promised me he was doing everything—”

“But he didn’t tell you he was getting sicker,” Jason said, trying to sort through the jumble of words, the whiplash of her emotions. “You knew he was sick, but he got worse without telling you.”

“I—yes. Yes. His kidneys—they’re not doing well. And his blood pressure—I don’t have to tell you how serious hypertension is. I’m sorry, I’m not—I had it all planned. The way I would tell you, and then I saw Cameron, and he’s sick, and Cameron won’t remember him. He won’t. Jake and Lila and Spencer and Michael and Morgan—”

Jason pulled his mother into his arms, finding Elizabeth’s eyes across the room. He could see the tears glistening on her cheeks. She wasn’t close enough to hear everything, but it wouldn’t take much to see what was going on.

He rubbed his mother’s back, then pulled back. “Okay. One step at a time. Okay?” He knew people at this hospital. Elizabeth knew people. They’d get Alan’s chart explained to them. It wasn’t fair to expect Monica to do it all. Bobbie.  “Did you call Emily and AJ?”

“AJ and Carly took the boys to New York. It’s spring break and there were meetings at the—” Monica scrubbed the tears from her eyes. “We have to call them. I don’t know how long. I can’t think straight.”

“You don’t have to. Emily?”

“She was in surgery, but I left a message—”

“Okay. I’m going to call Bobbie,” Jason told her. “And I’ll call Carly.” He was already pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’m going to call Justus, too. Maybe he and Tamika can pick up Jake—” But Cameron needed more than that. Treatments and prescriptions picked up from the pharmacy—

One step at a time. “Let me make a few calls, and then we’ll get Alan’s chart, and Tony. Tony can talk to us. You shouldn’t have to.”

“I—”

“Telling people,” Jason said slowly, “having to repeat it over and over again to the people who matter, it’s the hardest part. Having to relive it. Come on. Come sit with Elizabeth and Cameron while I make the calls. And then we’ll go talk to Ala—to Dad,” he said. It had never become comfortable, these labels he’d rejected for Alan and Monica all those years ago, and he had to think about it, had to use the words deliberately.

Even after all this time, all the ways they’d worked hard to rebuild their family, and the ways Alan and Monica had helped Jason build his own — it had never become second nature. He thought it might, eventually. With time.

And now time was running out.