Mom is waiting at baggage claim.

Her eyes are puffy. Red. She's been crying.

From the way she's looking at me, I'm pretty sure mine are the same.

Fuck.

I knew things might be bad.

But not this bad.

* * *

Mom makes small talk.

And I let her.

Until we take an early exit.

She turns on an unfamiliar street.

Then down another.

The hospital comes into view.

"Mom..." I place my hands in my lap. "What... What the hell?"

She pulls into the hospital parking lot. "I can explain."

"How can you explain?" Grandma is supposed to be okay. Okay people aren't in the hospital. That's a fucking fact.

"Your Grandma had another heart attack last week." Mom pulls into an end space and turns the car off. Her hands stay glued to the steering wheel. Her gaze stays on the windshield. "We knew you were coming. We figured it would be better to wait until you were here."

"And all the stuff you've said the last few months about her being okay?"

"She was okay—"

"Mom." I blink and a tear catches on my lashes. I don't have the emotional energy for this. For anything. I need a million hours of sleep. "Tell me the truth. How long have things been bad?"

"Bad is relative."

"She's dying."

"She..."

"Mom. Tell me the truth. Is Grandma dying?"

She turns to me, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her lips quiver.

Mom usually looks so put together. Pretty. Trendy.

But she's in leggings and a hoodie. Her hair is in a ponytail. Her only makeup is a little lipstick. It's not like her.

"Mom..." My voice cracks. I know the answer, but I need to hear her say it.

"I'm sorry, Kay." She shakes her head. "We thought it would be better if you didn't know. It's what Mom wanted."

"But—"

"She didn't want you to see her like this."

"But—"

"She only has a few weeks, max. Or maybe a few days. It's hard to say."

My hands are shaking again. A tear stings my eye. It's hot and salty. Then there's another. Another.

Words rise up in my throat.

But what is there to say?

Grandma is dying.

There isn't a word in the universe that will make that better.

I unclick my seatbelt and move toward Mom.

She wraps her arms around me. "I'm so sorry, Kay. We thought we were protecting you."

"Well stop." I tug at her hoodie. "Stop making decisions for me. Stop protecting me. I'm an adult and I can tell you what I can handle. Or what I want. Or who I love."

"Kay?"

"He... he isn't here."

"Who?"

"He loves me, but he won't be with me."

"Who loves you, Kay?"

"It doesn't matter." Not anymore. I have to get through this without him. That's his decision. It's probably for the best. Otherwise, I'll fall more in love with him.

I stop chocking back sobs.

I hold onto my mom and I cry until I can't cry anymore.