“If I had known dying would have brought you to me.

Then, I would have been dead a long time ago,” he joked, trying to lighten the air after I sat there staring for what felt like an entire hour.

My lips trembled, tears gathered in my eyes and I barely realized when my hold on his hand became bruising.

But if he felt the pain, he barely even cared.

Because his eyes remained on me, steadily.

“Leah,” he said softly, raising his other hand to my face.

His fingers moved in my roughened hair, moving through the strands as if to convince himself that I was there .

And...