Not enough will.

Not enough gratitude for all that was being done.

By the end, Rose had half-believed them — had apologized to him, on a bad night near the end, for being difficult, for being a burden, for not fighting hard enough.

And Cormac had sat with that apology for years afterward, turning it over, hating it, because there had been nothing to forgive and she had died believing there was.

That was why he’d kept the copy of my husband’s lab report, I realized.

That was why he’d crossed the road.