My mother placed a mug of coffee in front of Carson, and sat down in the chair across from us. Carson took the cup gratefully, and held it between both of his hands. I sat on the left side of Carson and rested my hand on his shoulder. Dylan sat on Carson's other side, closer to my mom.

My mother looked tired. She had large under eye bags and her hair looked like it hadn't seen a brush in decades. Of course, we were all tired. It was 8:30 in the morning and we were all sitting around the kitchen table, mostly quiet.

"Have you spoken to my parents?" Carson asked. His voice was shot.

My mother ran a hand through her hair, "My husband got in touch with them about an hour ago. They have an experimental surgery tomorrow-"

Carson looked down at his lap, "They're not coming."

"They are," My mother insisted. "They're getting here just in time for the funeral."

My mother continued on about how the funeral and burial proceedings would work. Dylan asked her a few questions now and then. But Carson had tuned out completely. He was just staring at his coffee.

"We'll be sending out the notice this afternoon. I thought the wake should be open to the public, so that everyone from her boarding school can attend."

After everything she said, one of us would respond with a "that sounds nice" or a "good thinking," but none of us were really listening.

"Now, do all of you kids have something appropriate to wear? Something black?"

"No," Carson said, lifting his eyes up to look at my mom. "No black. Katie would roll over in her grave if people wore black to her funeral."

"Okay then," my mother said hesitantly. "No black."

"What's um- what's gonna happen with her stuff?" Carson asked.

My mom offered him a small smile. "I don't want you to worry about that."

He nodded, and sank back down in his seat.

* * *

The funeral was three days ago. It was a beautiful service, and I think it brought Carson a bit of closure. He was definitely doing better now that some time had passed.

Anyways, his parents had asked Carson to come back home while they were here, and he wasn't really excited about that. Carson had little faith they were going to stay much longer that what was considered an acceptable amount of time to mourn over the loss of their daughter before heading back to Italy.

The house was really empty without Carson, so I forced Luna to stay with me last night, and she was bringing Dylan tonight, too.

Before that, however, my parents had invited the Daniels over for dinner tonight. Now that the funeral had passed, they could finally talk about the research the Daniels' had been doing in Italy.

Carson showed up with his parents at around six. When I opened the door for them, his parents smiled and greeted me with a hug before inviting themselves in and heading towards the kitchen to find my parents. They left Carson alone in the doorway.

"How are you?"

He shrugged, "Could be better."

"How are they?" I asked, referring to his parents.

He shrugged again, "They could be better, too."

"They're not the loss everything well?"

He shook his head, "They're handling it too well."

I gently grabbed Carson's hand and pulled him into the house.

"Well, they are doctors," I said, trying to play devil's advocate. "They're job requires them to move on from loss rather quickly."

"I guess."

I sighed, "They care about her, and you, Carson."

"I know."

"Do you want to go join them for dinner, now?"

"No, not yet."

"Why not?"

"You promised me a hug if I came tonight," he started, stretching out his arms. "And I'm here, so."

I rolled my eyes playfully, signaling my defeat as I stepped closer to him, which he responded to with one of those half-smiles. I stood in front of him, and, with a relaxed sigh, he pulled me into him. My body was pressed against his, and his cheek came to rest on the top of my head, the corner of his lips brushing against my forehead.

I closed my eyes, tuning out everything else that was happening right now, and listening to his soft, rhythmic breathing. It's barely been a day since I've seen him last, but God, I missed him.

I think I could stay in his arms forever.

* *

Dinner went as smooth as it could have. Our parents spent most of it discussing research, so Carson and I opted out of their conversation and remained mostly quiet, saying something every now and then.

Once desert had been served, however, things took a turn. The discussion happening on the other end of the table had grown much quieter. Carson and I both turned to listen in.

"So, have you decided what you're going to do about Katie's belongings?" My mother whispered. Carson stiffened.

"I think we're just going to donate the lot of it," Mr. Daniels shrugged.

"You're just going to get rid of all her stuff?" Carson asked. "Don't you want to keep any of it?"

"What for?"

"To keep in her memory," Carson responded.

"Carson, think of all the children who could use her stuff," his father argued.

"I am thinking. I think that it's important we keep her stuff. How can you want to anything of hers out?"

"Honey, we have to move forward," Mrs. Daniels spoke up, in a very calm tone. "A lot her things can bring joy to other kids."

"Well, I think this may be a good time call it a night," My mother intervened, standing up from her seat and moving closer to Mrs. Daniels.

"How can we just move forward? It's been 8 days!"

"Carson! I think this has been enough for one night," His father said sternly, getting up from his seat and pulling Mrs. Daniels up with him. Carson stayed sitting where he was.

"Carson, let's go," his father repeated.

He shook his head before standing up and beginning to follow them out of the house. When he got to the doorway, he stopped.

"No," he said.

His parents turned around, "No?"

"No," Carson said again. "No, I'm not going with you."

"Carson, stop being childish," His mother laughed. "Let's go home."

"Home?" he asked. "You guys don't even know what home is."

His mother looked taken aback for a moment, her face a flushing red, "We're going to the car. If you are not there in the next minute, you're grounded."

His parents stormed out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.

"You're always more than welcome to stay here," My mother said to Carson after a minute had passed and he had yet to move.

"How about we finish desert now?" My father suggested.

I grabbed Carson's hand. He turned away from the door and followed me back to our seats.

"I know it can be difficult, Carson," My mother began. "But try to remember, everyone grieves differently. This may be how your parents are coping."

The four of us sat at the table in an uncomfortably tense silence. My mother and father would exchange looks with one another every few minutes or so, and Carson had dissociated, staring at the empty plate in front of him.

Eventually, he had snapped out of his gaze, and he turned to look at me. His eyes were big and sad, and it was hard not to notice how extremely exhausted he looked.

I placed a hand to his face, feeling the warmth of his cheek against my palm.

"What can I do?" I asked him in a hushed tone, so the question was just to him.

"Another hug sounds pretty nice."