The rain was back.

Will stared past the wet windowpane into the dark sky. His dad was in surgery; his mom was in a fitful sleep on the waiting room couch, and he sat, tortured by the image of his father falling on his knees. His mind played the scene on a loop as he dug his nails into the armrests of the chair and tried his best to hold back a scream.

Was this some kind of sick joke? He couldn't escape the numbers. They tipped him off to tragedy but didn't give him the power to save anyone he loved. Knowing too much but never enough to make a difference, he was helpless as a deer caught in an eternal set of cosmic headlights. What was the point of having a morbid warning sign without hope that anything could ever change?

Good one, universe. Ha, ha. You're an asshole.

Watching the rain, a hazy montage of images played on the movie screen in his mind. His dad. Alex. Skye. Don Frances at Fletcher's, scooping blue bubble gum ice cream into a sugared waffle cone. A legion of numbers bloomed behind Will's eyes, appearing and fading away until a lone 3 remained, flickering into a 2, into a 1. It was always the same. The numbers infected everything he perceived, everything he saw, and in the end, everyone he loved.

A surgeon in scrubs appeared and Will jumped. Nerves nipped at his chest, making him catch his breath. Shaking his head, he stood up from the chair and gently shook his mother's shoulder.

"Mom. Mom, wake up. The doctor's here."

Please let everything be okay. Please let him be fine. Please don't let me cry.

"Oh my god. I fell asleep?" Rubbing at her eyes, she rose to her feet gingerly and grabbed at his arm for support. "How...how is my husband?" 

It felt like forever before the doctor opened his mouth.

"The bypass was a success," he said. "Ben's in recovery now, and we'll move him to the ICU when he's ready. Prognosis is good, but he'll need help adjusting his lifestyle. Recovery will take between six and twelve weeks."

So, there it was.

His mother started crying, and she leaned heavily against Will's side. He couldn't feel his feet. His ears were ringing. Everything was numb.

"Thank you. Thank you for letting us know. Thank you for saving him. When ... when can I see my husband?"

He could hear his mother's words, but he couldn't quite grasp them. It had to be a dream. He tried closing his eyes, hoping maybe he'd wake up the next morning like nothing had happened.

As if.

The doctor's lips were still moving when Will opened his eyes again. Squinting, he focused hard to process what the doctor was saying.

"It could take up to four hours for him to gain consciousness. You may want to go home for a bit. Eat, gather some things, and call in for an update tomorrow morning." The surgeon looked tired, but his eyes were kind, and his 3 shined like buffed silver in his pupil.

It didn't feel right, leaving his father behind, but waiting longer in that sterile room for the sake of it, with nothing to do or contribute, was worse. So, Will took his mother's hand, and together they walked toward the elevator to start the journey home.

They barely spoke on their way back to the house. Everything was too fresh; it was like speaking would make things real, and Will wasn't ready for that. Leaning his head against the car window, he closed his eyes as his mother drove.

The hospital was in Reese, so there was no point traveling all the way out to the cottage again. Josh had taken Shelby and Skye home when Will and his mom followed the ambulance's flashing lights to Reese Memorial. Josh had checked in at least once an hour via text since then.

The door swung open, and the house was dark. Toby was still with the Archers, so it was quieter than normal, too. Will had a hard time wrapping his brain around the idea that he'd been gone less than two days, because it felt like forever since he'd been home.

"I'm going to make some tea. Do you want a cup?" His mother looked so tired, it hurt to look at her.

"No thanks, Mom. I'm not really a tea kind of guy, remember?" Opening the fridge, he grabbed a bottle of water. "Hey, do you want an omelet? I can make you something to eat."

She looked at him with sad eyes. "When did you grow up, Will?" Her bottom lip wobbled for a second, but she took a breath and recovered. "Yes, I'll have some. Thank you, honey." She filled the electric kettle at the sink and plugged it in. "I'm going to go get changed."

Will took some eggs, milk, and cheese out of the fridge, then got to work. It wouldn't be fancy, but he'd add some toast, and they'd have a late supper. At least it felt good to have something to do. The rich scent of buttery, eggy goodness filled the kitchen, and his sharpened edges began to soften as he cooked. When the omelet was finished, he called out to his mom a couple of times, but she didn't respond. Walking down the hall to look for her, he saw the light on in the study and found her at his father's desk, head in her hands.

"Mom? Mom, I just wanted to tell you the food's ready."

She turned, face wet with tears, wiping at her red, swollen eyes. "I'm sorry, honey. I walked by Dad's study and wanted to feel close to him for a while. I know the doctor said he'll be fine, but it was ... just such a shock, you know?" She took a shaky breath in and slowly breathed it out again.

"I know, Mom. I ... I wish there was something more I could have done to help Dad ... to stop it from happening in the first place." An ache spread through his chest. "If Dad hadn't made it today, I don't know what I'd do." He hadn't cried since Alex died, but suddenly Will's features crumpled as a tangled mash-up of guilt, anxiety, and fear pressed down on his chest and threatened to smother him.

Face in his hands, hot tears leaked through his fingers as he choked on the pain. And then, pulling him into her arms, his mother cradled him like she used to when he was a little boy. Will clung to her tight, terrified to let go.

"You heard the doctor, Will. Dad's still here. Close calls like this are scary, but he's going to be okay. We need to focus on that." She smoothed his hair with her hand. "Things happen, honey, and unfortunately we can't predict the future. That's just not the way we're built."

Will shivered.

I love you, Mom, but I'm just not built like everyone else.

"You know, when Grandma died, your Uncle Matt beat himself up because he couldn't save her. None of us could have seen her aneurysm coming, but he couldn't accept that there was nothing he could have done. After that, he was different, more distant." She sighed, as she often did when she mentioned his uncle. "Anyway, he went off to school and you know we never saw him much after that. Don't be like Matt, honey. You can't live your life wondering, 'what if' — I can't lose you, Will. You're our world."

She hugged him, and his brain turned this new piece of information over like a curious artifact. Could Uncle Matt be like him? Had he seen his own mother's numbers counting down, powerless to stop them but feeling responsible for being a passive bystander? Did it become too much, looking his sister and father in the eye every day, wondering if and when their numbers might start to change? Wondering if he could save them, or if he'd fail them in the end, too? Or, was he just a guy who took his mom's sudden death to heart and never really bounced back? Will wondered if he'd ever find out.

"Will?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"Let's go eat that omelet before it gets cold." She gave him a soft kiss on the forehead, took his hand, and turned off the study light.

***

Pale sunshine leaked through the window onto the kitchen table. Bleary-eyed after a sleepless night, they sat in trepidation, ready to call the hospital for an update. Will watched his mom press the numbers into the phone. Her voice shook as she asked to speak with the nurse, and when he squeezed her hand, it trembled. Finally, her lips turned up into a small smile: they'd been granted a brief visit at eleven o'clock. His father needed all the rest he could get, so they were only allowed ten minutes together, but the nurse confirmed they'd have more time as his condition improved.

Will called in to work, and Marlene assured him they'd be fine without his help for a couple of days, then her normally hardened voice softened as she asked if there was anything she could do. He'd ragged on the small town thing a lot in the past but had to admit there were benefits to people knowing and, for the most part, giving a damn about each other.

Nerves buzzed under his skin as the clock's hands moved closer to eleven o'clock. He wasn't sure how his dad would look when they came face to face, or how to handle seeing him helpless in a hospital bed. His mom bounced from room to room like a pinball, with an over-bright smile and higher-pitched voice than usual, sure signs that she was nervous, too.

Soon enough, they arrived at the hospital. Will's nose wrinkled at the smell of disinfectant and his shoulders inched closer to his ears as he caught the sound of a patient moaning down the hall from the nursing station.

"Try your best to be calm. Positivity works wonders, right from the start." The charge nurse's smile was encouraging, but Will's mouth was dry and his palms were damp; he'd do his best, but calm and positive seemed like a stretch too far for him to reach.

Heavy doors opened to let them into the critical care unit, and Will's heart beat faster in response. Their footsteps echoed on the grey tiles as they approached room 820. Despite the warm hospital air that clung to his skin, Will still managed to shiver as they walked through the door.

Suddenly there he was: covered to the waist in a nubby blanket and sheet, Will's father wore a soft green gown, and his body was covered in wires. His eyes opened, and he smiled weakly at his wife and son. Will's mother approached the bed first, reaching out to hold his hand, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

"If you were getting bored at the cottage, all you needed to do was tell me instead of creating an elaborate diversion, honey." A small catch in her voice betrayed her, but somehow, she managed to smile.

"Sweetheart, you know I've always loved your sense of humor, but if you make me laugh right now I swear I will call the nurse on you. Will, get over here, son." His father's voice was stretched thin and his arm was connected to an IV. Will took his cool, dry hand.

"Dad... how are you?" The simple question felt heavy on his tongue. Standing in the hospital room felt like a dream, and he wasn't sure he was ready to hear what his dad had to say.

"I'm a little beat up, but they tell me I'll be fine." His voice was quieter than usual. "However long the night, the dawn will break, my son."

It was like he was small again, standing on the edge of a diving board, knowing it was his turn to jump, but afraid to leap into the water below. He started counting backwards from ten, just like he did in those days, willing himself to move forward, to take a chance, to just let go. Though he'd been avoiding his dad's gaze since they walked through the door, he knew their visit would be short, so Will sucked in a breath and forced himself to look his father in the eye.

There, nestled in his left pupil, sat a soft 2 where his 3 used to be. Will felt his shoulders relax. He'd been so worried the damage would be worse, that a worn 1 would stare back at him when he saw his dad up close. Instead, the dove-grey 2 gave him license to breathe again. He smiled then, genuinely, understanding that the surgery really was a success, just like the doctor said.

Before their time together was up, his father drifted back to sleep, but Will and his mom stayed the full ten minutes anyway. When it was time to go, his mother kissed her husband's hand and lovingly smoothed back his hair. It was a small gesture, but intimate in its own way, and Will looked down at the floor, wanting to give her a moment of her own.

Stepping back from the bed, his mother wrapped her arm around Will's shoulders and led him from the room. At the doorway, she placed two fingertips on her lips and blew her husband a quiet kiss. Together, she and Will walked back down the hall.

When they arrived home, Josh and Toby were sitting on the top step, waiting for them. Will's mom placed a small hand on Josh's shoulder as Toby whined and tugged on his leash, his tail flapping eagerly back and forth.

"How's Mr. B?" Josh's voice hit a snag as the words left his lips.

"He's weak, but thankfully he pulled through the surgery well. His doctor is optimistic, so we'll just have to look forward to getting him back on his feet again. And Josh, thank you, honey. The CPR you administered probably bought Ben more time. Your father trained you well." Will's mother reached out to hug Josh, and he bent down to rest his head on her small shoulder.

"I'm just glad he's okay." His voice shook a little, and Will looked away.

Taking a step back, Will's mother yawned. "I'm going to have to excuse myself. I didn't sleep much last night and I could really use a nap. Thanks for keeping Toby a little longer, Josh. It really helped out. Please tell your mom and dad I'll be in touch soon, okay?" She pat Toby's head and he leaned against her hip.

"Of course, Mrs. B. They're thinking of you and Mr. B."

"Get some sleep, Mom." Will handed her the keys and kissed her on the cheek. Her 2 was like dull pewter in need of a shine. Nodding, she went inside.

"Hey. I figured you might be missing your little dude over here, and he's had it up to here with Mr. Snickers, so here we are." Josh pulled off his sunglasses. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course. Want to sit out back?" Will waved him into the house, grabbed some iced tea from the fridge and headed to the backyard with Toby hot on his heels, snuffling wet dog kisses into his fingertips.

Drinks in hand, Will and Josh settled in lounge chairs on the interlocking patio overlooking his mom's lush garden.

"I'm sorry I didn't call with an update on Dad this morning. It's been ... a little crazy. Like Mom said, it really helped that you kept Toby for another night – please let your parents know how much Mom and I appreciated it, okay?" Dangling his hand down beside the chair, Will ran his fingers through Toby's golden fur. It was a comfort to have him home again.

Josh was a more serious version of his usual self. "Don't apologize, Will. Seriously, it's only been a day, and we figured you and your mom had enough to worry about. Look, I don't even have the right words to tell you how sorry I am. Your dad means an absolute ton to me. This is so messed up." Air whooshed through his lips and he slumped back into his chair.

Will took a sip of iced tea and cleared his throat. "I keep thinking I'm going to wake up like yesterday was a bad dream or something, you know? I'm so relieved the surgery was a success. If things go our way, Dad's doctor said he'll be back to his old self in a couple of months."

He glanced over at Josh, then shifted his gaze to Toby, who was eagerly tracking a butterfly's rambling flight path across the lawn.

"You're a huge part of why Dad's okay, Josh. I'm so freaking thankful for the way you reacted yesterday and how calm you were. I don't know ... I'm just not sure ... what I would have done without you." He couldn't bring himself to look at Josh as he spoke. If he lost grip on the small amount of self-control he had left, Will was sure his emotions would swallow him whole.

"Hey. You'd do the same for me in a second. You know you would, Will. There's no doubt in my mind. We've been through so much, I figure we're kind of stuck together now, right?" Josh gave him a half-smile smile and took a swig of iced tea.

"Right." Will smiled back. His life wasn't perfect, but he knew he'd been blessed when it came to friends and family. 

"Look, do you mind if I share your dad's update with Shelby? She and her parents have been worried sick. When I drove the girls home yesterday,  Shel was freaking out because she was right there with your dad, and he seemed totally fine right before he collapsed. Skye and I spent the entire ride calming her down." Josh took a swig of his drink and grabbed a stray tennis ball from under his chair, whipping his arm to launch it down the yard for Toby to chase.

At the mention of Skye's name, Will's stomach did a somersault. "Of course. Yeah, let them know what's going on. I'd appreciate that... How was Skye, anyway?" He tried to be casual, but his voice sounded awkward to his ears.

"Shaken, of course. I mean, look, she doesn't know your dad like Shelby and I do, so she mostly just checked to make sure we were okay and tried to keep Shel chill." Josh shrugged. "She was pretty concerned about you, though. I mean, that's natural given the situation, but she kept wondering how you were and what you needed. I could be wrong, but it seemed like there might something going on between the two of you. Am I right?" His 3 gleaming, Josh raised an eyebrow as he searched Will's expression.

"I don't know, maybe," Will answered honestly. "We've had a couple of moments, and yeah, I think about her, but there's not much to report yet."

"Well, she seems like a good girl. Skye and Shelby are getting pretty tight, so if it's what you want, then I say go for it." Josh leaned back and rested the back of his head in his palms, turning his smiling face up to the sun. Feet up and shades on, they took turns tossing the tennis ball to Toby and zoned out under the big, blue sky. It was exactly what Will needed.

***