Dalaric

Twenty-Six: "𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙋𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙣."

"What about those girls at the shooting range? Caroline, was it?"

"Not my damn type."

She cares way too much about how she looks and too little about how she acts. Conceited, materialistic and narcissistic. Everything I don't like in someone, let alone the love of my life or whatever the fuck that bullshit is.

"Yeah, I thought so." Her blue eyes light up as she wraps an arm around my shoulders, making me hunch down so she can reach them.

"Well," She sighs, "You're going to find your person one day," My brows furrow when a few tears fall from her eyes, the same eyes that were once full of life.

She mutters, low enough for me to hear, "whether or not I'm six feet under."

She always fucking does this. I leave her hold, trying to calm my anger. I hate it when she talks about that. When she talks about leaving me.

"Ricky...Come on now, don't be like that."

"Stop speaking shit then, Emily." I don't want to get angry at her. She's the one dying, not me.

I wish I had something or someone to calm me the fuck down but I don't- so damn right I'm going to be angry.

"Son, last time I checked I was the one with the cancer and you were the one with the anger issues and lack of girlfriend so get back here and get me some biscuits!" She scowls at me, crossing her arms with a challenging look on her pale face.

I glare at her, before getting her the damn biscuits and sitting on the edge of the bed. I don't want to lose her. Then I'll be completely alone.

"You need someone Ricky," Emily says, setting her hand in mine. "Promise me something."

"Anything."

"If you ever bring home a girl, or in this case, my gravestone." My face hardens and she points a finger at me, "You better make sure she's the one you're going to spend the rest of your life with. Or else, I swear, I'll haunt you."

"I'm not going to find anyone. Haunt me all the fuck you want." At least that way, she'll be near me.

Emily shakes her head at my answer. A cold hand touches my cheek lovingly, my heart feels weird when my throat goes dry at the thought of not being able to see my mother every again.

One month, they said.

"I know you don't believe in true love, Ricky. But one day, hopefully soon because I want grandkids, you'll find someone who'll make you believe otherwise."

True love is jack shit, is what I really want to say. But I can't, not with the look she has in her eyes. A look of regret that tells me that Carl was never a good husband. Or father.

Her eyes are thoughtful when she caresses my scarred fingers before whispering, "Someone that will give you their all, regardless of how much or how little they have."

"...So I bought this with my own money for my own man so you can't say anything..."

"Someone that won't care about how much you earn, the way you look or the money you spend. They'll only ever have eyes for your heart, for your eyes and for your soul."

"My only home is right there." She taps my chest, above where my heart beats, always for her. "I'll stay."

"I told her you're a millionaire and she said you could buy her real penguins. Who the fuck thinks that?"