He held her hand tightly. His big, injured, hockey hands engulfed her tiny delicate ones. He held her head against his shoulder and positioned her body so she was lying next to him.

Her eyes were half open and her mind cloudy from all the sedatives that were pumped into her system to keep her from fighting the breathing tube in her throat. But she knew. She knew this was it. This was the last time she would feel his body against hers. The last time she would hear his heartbeat, and him, hers. And in her half conscious state, she cried.

It wasn’t a body wracking, sobbing cry. But a silent, tears rolling down her face cry. And he knew that. He felt her tears start to soak through his shirt, and he knew. And he cried.

He watched the nurses turn off the machines keeping her with him. The familiar beep of her heartbeat went quiet, and so did the constant click of the ventilator.

His crying became sobbing, and his breathing quickened, as though he were trying to breathe for her too. And slowly, he felt her body relax, her heart stop and her soul leave. He closed his eyes and kissed her softly on the lips, wishing she could kiss him back.

And for the last time Jordan Staal said goodbye to Mason O’Rear.

Notes