The knock on the door startled her so badly she actually shrieked a little, jumping up from the couch. Taking a deep breath, she called, “It’s open,” and pressed a hand to her chest, willing her heart to slow down. She clicked on a lamp, then, and wiped at the tearmarks on her face, trying to think who would be visiting.
Alarmed at her shriek, Victor dashed in through the door and surveyed her. He could hear Summer’s heart beating fast and he took in her tear stained cheeks and he dropped the bottle on the couch. Victor rushed to her and pulled her to him for a hug. “What’s wrong love?”
He held her and rocked with her gently. “What’s wrong love?”
Summer had forgotten Victor’s speed, but the sudden warmth of his hold was more than welcome. She curled her hands into his coat sleeves, once again fighting the tears that had nearly run dry before he arrived. It took a long minute before she could whisper, “My grandfather — my last living grandparent — he died just a few hours ago.”
Victor held her a little tighter. “It’s ok love, it’s ok you can cry.” He closed his eyes; wished he could take away her pain. “I’m sorry Summer, what happened?”
“He — he was old, Victor darling, he was just old, and he’d been suffering pneumonia for weeks.” Her voice broke, and she dragged in a rasping breath, muffling the harsh sob into his chest. Tears burned down her face, silent after that one choked gasp.