Page 85 of Beneath the Surface

A faint smile touched her grandmother’s lips, pulling at the corners of her mouth. Her free hand lifted from the quilt—such a small movement, but Quinn could see the tremor in those fingers, the effort it took. Quinn caught that hand too, cradling both of her grandmother’s hands in hers.

“Of course he was.” Each word came with visible effort, her grandmother’s chest rising and falling unevenly. “You’re everything good about him. Everything bright and stubborn and true.”

“I’m going to finish this.” Quinn’s tears fell onto their joined hands, warm against the cool skin. “I’m going to make Wheeler pay for what he did.”

“I know.” Her grandmother’s breathing hitched—a horrible sound that made Quinn’s heart stutter—then steadied again. “You’re stronger than you know, Quinn. Stronger than me. Stronger than your father, even.”

“That’s not true.” Quinn shook her head, her long dark hair falling forward to curtain them both. She could smell her grandmother’s familiar scent—rose water and powder, the same perfume she’d worn for as long as Quinn could remember.

“It is.” Her grandmother’s fingers twitched in Quinn’s grip, a weak squeeze. “You’ve already survived so much. Lost so much. And you’re still fighting. Still standing. That takes a strength most people never find.”

Quinn pressed her grandmother’s hands to her cheek, not caring that her tears were soaking into the papery skin. “I don’t want to do this without you. I need you, Gran.”

“No, you don’t.” Her grandmother’s gaze shifted, moving past Quinn to the doorway. “You have everything you need already.”

Quinn followed her grandmother’s line of sight to where Dax stood. He’d straightened from his lean against the doorframe, his hands dropping to his sides. Even from across the room, Quinn could see the way his jaw was clenched, the muscle jumping there. His eyes were suspiciously bright.

“And you have him,” her grandmother continued, her voice barely audible now. “That good man who looks at you like you hung the moon.”

Quinn felt heat creep up her neck despite everything. “Gran—”

“Don’t let fear keep you from love, Quinny.” Her grandmother’s breathing was becoming more irregular, each inhale a struggle. “I made that mistake once. After your grandfather died, I closed myself off. Thought it was safer. Easier.”

She paused, gathering strength, and Quinn waited, still holding those cold hands.

“But all I did was waste years I could have spent living. Loving.” She took another labored breath. “Don’t make my mistake.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Quinn leaned down and pressed a kiss to her grandmother’s forehead. The skin was cool and dry beneath her lips.

“Good.” Her grandmother’s eyes drifted closed, the lids seeming too heavy to keep open. “That’s good.”

For a moment, Quinn thought she’d fallen asleep. The breathing continued, ragged but steady. Quinn counted each breath, her own chest rising and falling in time, as if she could will her grandmother to keep going through sheer force of synchronization.

But then her grandmother spoke again, so quietly Quinn had to lean close enough that their foreheads almost touched.

“Your father’s waiting for me.” The words came with a smile—peaceful, almost joyful. “I can feel him. Can almost see him.” A sigh, soft as falling leaves. “He’s so proud of you, Quinn. We both are.”

“Gran, please.” Quinn’s voice broke completely. “Please don’t go yet.”

“It’s time, sweetheart.” Another breath, shallower than before. “I’m so tired. Been fighting so long. Keeping secrets. Carrying weight.” Her eyes opened one last time, finding Quinn’s face. “You’ve set me free. You and that stubborn heart of yours.”

Quinn felt movement beside her and realized Dax had crossed the room silently. He stood just behind her now, one hand resting gently on her shoulder. The warmth of his palm seeped through her shirt, an anchor to the living world while her grandmother slipped away from it.

“You rest now, Gran.” Quinn had to force the words out past the tightness in her throat. “You did everything you needed to do. You told me the truth. You helped me find the way. You can rest now.”

“Love you...Quinn-y...” The words were barely shaped, more breath than sound.

“I love you too, Gran. So much.” Quinn lifted her grandmother’s hands to her lips, kissing the knuckles. “Thank you. For everything. For raising me. For loving Dad. For being brave enough to tell me the truth.”

Her grandmother’s mouth moved, trying to form words, but no sound came out. Quinn leaned closer, her ear near those lips.

“Be...happy...”

And then…nothing.

The chest that had been rising and falling went still.

The fingers Quinn held went slack.