“Isaac!” Summer was really worried now. He hadn’t flinched at her touch in weeks. He wasn’t speaking; he just stood there while tears rolled silently down his face. She’d never seen him cry like this. She took his arms, closing her fingers slowly and gently around his biceps, and guided him to the couch. “You have to tell me what’s wrong,” she said, sitting beside him. “You have to tell me.”
He didn’t even make a noise, body trembling with the force of his silent tears, eyes blank and unseeing, a haunted expression stamped across his face. Allowing her then to take him to the sofa and coax him into sitting down, Isaac blinked and licked at his lips, before lowering his eyes and screwing them shut. “They’re gone…” he finally whispered, voice hoarse and wavering tellingly.
She pulled him closer, pulled him down until his head was on her shoulder and pulled his arms around her waist. “Who’s gone, chere? Tell me. Tell Summer. Who’s gone?”