Remember Me With Love

Cameron Mansion, Del Sol Valley Hills

Aspiring actor Chandler Cameron, tall, tan with bright aqua blue eyes and light blond hair, had only moved in with his great-grandfather Blaine a few months ago at the behest of his grandfather Blake, but he already knew better than to try and be subtle. He gave the stair railing an assertive rap with his fist and called out, his voice carrying through the sprawling mansion, echoing oddly.

“Hey, great-grandpa?! Blaine! BLAAAIINNEEEE! Somebody’s at the door for you.”

There was a muffled curse, followed by the unmistakable shuffle of footsteps. Blaine appeared at the top of the grand staircase; a baby balanced precariously on his hip. His shirt was rumpled, his hair a chaotic mess, but his sharp green eyes were wide awake—probably more from caffeine than rest.

“Who the hell is it?” Blaine barked as he descended the stairs, his voice gruff but not entirely lacking affection.

Chandler hesitated, his expression unreadable. “Uh, not sure… you’re gonna want to see for yourself. You really need to get some staff, this house is too big for two and a half people.”

Blaine narrowed his eyes, adjusting his hold on Blaine Junior, who let out a happy coo. “We have a maid who comes in daily, what more do you need, you mooch. If you need full 24/7 service and pampering, move back to Sulani with your parents and grandfather! Freaking GenZers! If this is another reporter, I swear to—”

“Nah, definitely not a reporter. Give me a little credit here. I know better than to let those on the property, let alone in the house. Not an idiot, Great-Grampa,” Chandler cut him off, his tone tight.

The moment Blaine reached the bottom of the stairs and saw who was standing in the foyer, every muscle in his body tensed. Standing there, framed by the grand double doors, was Cesare Vannucci. The vampire king. The Grand Master Elder. Blaine’s former father-in-law. The man who had made his grief a thousand times worse.

Blaine felt his blood boil instantly. “Worse than fucking paparazzi, if there is such a thing, but you would be it! You’ve got some goddamn nerve showing up here,” he growled, his grip on Blaine Junior tightening instinctively. He thrust the baby toward Chandler, who moved forward quickly to take the child.

“Take him upstairs,” Blaine ordered, his voice low and firm. “Now. And next time, don’t let trash like that in the house, kid, for fuck’s sake!”

Chandler glanced at Cesare, then back at Blaine, before nodding and disappearing up the stairs. Cesare’s eyes flicked to the baby as Chandler carried him away, but he made no move to follow.

“Don’t blame the boy. We both know I incite fear in most mortals, for good reason, and if he would have told me no, I would have compelled him to let me in. But, I’m not here to fight,” Cesare began, his tone calm but edged with something heavier—regret, perhaps.

Blaine didn’t give him a chance to continue. He strode to the door, yanked it open, and grabbed Cesare by the collar of his impeccably tailored vest. Before Cesare could react, Blaine shoved him hard, sending him stumbling out onto the front steps.

“Yeah, guess who is not afraid of you? I don’t give a shit what you’re here for,” Blaine snapped, standing in the doorway like a sentinel. “You’re not welcome in my house, you sanctimonious son of a bitch.”

Cesare straightened his shirt and vest, brushing himself off with an eerie calmness. “Blaine, please. I just want to talk.”

“Yeah? Well, but I don’t,” Blaine shot back, his hand tightening on the edge of the door. “So do us both a favor and fuck the fuck off. You can talk to yourself, outside my property line. Compel some poor fuck to listen to your endless drivel! By far the best thing about our decision to get unturned, not having to listen to your boring-ass bullshit!”

Cesare stoically ignored Blaine’s attacks and insults. “Don’t you think I deserve to meet my grandson?” Cesare asked, his voice rising just enough to match Blaine’s anger.

“You deserve jack shit,” Blaine spat, and with that, he slammed the door in Cesare’s face.

The sound reverberated through the house, but Blaine didn’t flinch. He turned on his heel, muttering curses under his breath as he made his way to the kitchen. He needed coffee. Strong, black, and preferably in a gallon-sized mug. Anything to drown out the rage bubbling in his chest.

He poured himself a cup, the sound of liquid filling the mug oddly soothing in the silence. But when he turned around, his heart nearly stopped, and the mug slipped from his grasp. Coffee splattered across the floor.

“Jesus Christ!” Blaine swore, his hand flying to his chest. “What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?! How the heck did you get in again!?”

Cesare stood calmly by the counter, looking impossibly composed as always. “Have you forgotten all the things you can do when you have fangs? Closed doors are merely suggestions to any vampire. Blaine, please listen to …,” he said dryly.

“I haven’t forgotten ANYTHING! Including that you can’t do that,” Blaine snapped, pointing an accusing finger. “That’s not allowed! Read your own goddamn vampire manual again! Even a drooling idiot like me retained that much, even though I haven’t been part of that fanged club for years now. You must not enter someone else’s house uninvited, period, and I made abundantly clear that you are most definitely NOT invited or welcome here. So get the fuck out!”

Cesare raised an eyebrow. “Blaine, I am well aware of the rules. I wrote them all and made them into vampire law, if you’ll recall, or was that part of my ‘endless boring drivel’ that you drowned out? By the same token, I made the rules, I get to break them if the occasion calls for it, and it does. I am, after all, the highest-ranking, most powerful and oldest of all vampires currently in existence. Enough of that, I really need to speak with you.”

“How convenient. You get to do what-the-fuck-ever, and everyone else gets taken down by your creepy son Caelan and his cronies. Well, like I said a felt million times now, I don’t want to speak with you,” Blaine countered, stepping over the spilled coffee to glare at him. “So why don’t you turn into a bat or some shit and fly the fuck out of my house?”

“Blaine—”

“Don’t ‘Blaine’ me!” he interrupted, his voice rising. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here after what you did. You think I forgot? You think I’m just gonna let you waltz back in here like nothing happened? Newsflash, asshole: I don’t forgive that easy.”

“If you can’t find it in your heart to forgive me,” Cesare said quietly. His calm demeanor was infuriating in contrast to Blaine’s fire. “then let me at least apologize for a terrible mistake I made. You do not wish to speak to me, fair enough, but at least listen.”

Blaine laughed, but it was a harsh, bitter sound with no humor in it. “I don’t want to listen either. And oh: ‘a mistake’. Is that what we’re calling it now? The big bad uber-vamp made a booboo and I am supposed to kiss it and make you feel better?! No thanks, but I got something for you to kiss, let me bend over and I’ll show you where, Mo-Fo! You threatened to kill me, Cesare. You threw me out like trash after I lost the only woman I’ve ever truly loved, and with her death my life lost all meaning. Worse yet, you blamed me for her death! Do you know what that does to a man who is already having a nervous fucking breakdown? HUH!? And I am not even gonna start thinking about the things you called my son, who is probably the most innocent in all of this, or I would go van Helsing on your ass right here, right now! Don’t stand there and act like we’re gonna hug it out. FUCK OFF already!”

Cesare’s gaze softened, though his expression remained solemn. “I was grieving, Blaine. Scarlett was… she was everything to me. So different from her brother. Caelan tries, but he is … he is …well, you know. Losing Scarlett broke me in ways I didn’t know I could break. And I lashed out. At you. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t fair. Which is why I am here. To apologize and to make amends.”

Blaine stared at him, his jaw clenched, his fists tight at his sides. For a long moment, he said nothing, his breathing heavy in the tense silence.

Then Cesare spoke again, his voice softer now. “I miss her, Blaine. Every single day. And I know you do too. We don’t have to like each other, hate me if you must, but I think we owe it to her—to her memory—to figure this out. For Blaine Junior.”

At the mention of his son, something flickered in Blaine’s expression. Pain, maybe. Or doubt. He shook his head, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “Do not speak about my son! And you don’t get to pull the Scarlett card. Not after everything.”

“I’m not pulling anything,” Cesare said, stepping closer. “I’m trying to do right by her. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I like you Blaine, always have, even though you didn’t always make that easy on me with your abrasive ways and dubious ideas, and I am genuinely sorry for my actions. I was hurting too, just like you. Still am. Like you.”

Blaine looked away, his shoulders sagging just slightly. His walls were cracking, but whether they’d come down completely was anyone’s guess.

“Cool sob story, go tell someone who cares. I legit don’t know why you’re still standing here,” Blaine muttered finally, his voice like gravel. “I told you to get the hell out of my house. Or did you forget how to use the front door? Then I suggest you black cloud it on out the same way you ported in.”

Cesare’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance, maybe, or pity. Blaine didn’t care which. He was too far gone to care about anything except the rage boiling in his chest.

“So, what now, Fang?” Blaine pressed, stepping closer, his voice rising. “The evil glare? You’re gonna compel me to like you? No? Then how about some more threats, huh? Or you just gonna kill me for mouthing off like you probably often wanted to? Come on, bitch, don’t hold back. Go ahead, fuckface, you couldn’t do me a bigger favor! I already wrote up my will. I got nothing to lose here. Raising our kids was one of the favorite things I ever did in my life, but not without Scarlett. I am permanently lost without her. I’m hanging on by a thread on a good day here! I lost all interest in music, which was my life aside from Letty and the kids. I haven’t been able to write one coherent line or note since she left me. I have nothing left, Fang! I hate my life. I wish I could trade with Scarlett. Or I could join her.”

Cesare’s calm facade cracked, his jaw tightening as he took a deliberate step forward. “Don’t you dare say that,” he said, his voice low and sharp. “You think Scarlett would want to hear you talk like that? You think she’d want you to give up?”

Blaine let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and hollow. “Don’t you dare bring her into this. You don’t get to use her name, not after what you did. How do you think Scarlett would feel if she knew what you did when I REALLY needed your help? Oh, and she does know. I told her everything. I go see her every damn day. She knows everything about everything.”

“Blaine, please,” Cesare snapped, his voice rising for the first time. “Don’t speak like that, as if she were still here. She is gone. I finally came to terms with it. I’m reminding you of what she fought for. She believed in you, Blaine. She trusted you to raise that boy, to love him the way she would have.”

Blaine’s fists clenched at his sides, his breathing uneven. “Yeah, well, but the trouble is that she’s not here to help me raise him now, is she? And you sure as hell didn’t make it any easier when you threw me out like garbage when I asked you for help.”

Cesare’s gaze softened, though his frustration was still evident. “I made mistakes. I let my grief blind me, and I took it out on you. But I’m here now, trying to make things right. Don’t repeat my mistakes, letting pain turn into hate and anger, clouding your judgement. Be the better man. Be better than I was. I am flawed, just like the rest. Immortality doesn’t make you flawless, you know that. I never meant those words. I would never kill you Blaine, let alone harm any of your children. They are MY grandchildren, too.”

Blaine shook his head, his laugh bitter and humorless. “You don’t get to make things right, Cesare. You don’t get to waltz in here and pretend you give a damn about me or my kids. You lost that right when you turned your back on me. Not only that, but you also blacklisted my entire family to your vampire crowd, forbidding ANY contact, meaning Vivien got hurt too, cos your lapdog Caelan wouldn’t give her the time of day anymore. He’s her uncle, the first person aside from her mother and doctors who ever held her, and they were best friends ever since, in case you forgot, cos I sure as hell didn’t. She’s in her eighties now, that’s a long fucking friendship and you basically ended it for them, abruptly. You hurt my little girl, too. She missed him so much, and you didn’t give two fucks about it! Nah, you can’t ‘I’m sorry‘ your way out of this shit! Especially not after all those years now! Too little, too late. Had you come sooner, weeks, maybe even a few months after, we could have maybe talked. And I know to you vamps time is barely noteworthy, but to us mortals it very much is. Nah, forgiveness has an expiration date, Cesare.”

Blaine stormed out of the kitchen, his boots thudding heavily against the polished floors. He didn’t care where he was going—he just needed to get away from Cesare before he said or did something he couldn’t take back. His hands were trembling, his chest tight with anger and grief.

As he rounded the corner into the hallway, he nearly collided with Chandler, who was holding Blaine Junior. The baby let out a delighted squeal, completely oblivious to the tension radiating off his father.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” Chandler asked, his turquoise eyes wide with concern.

“Give me the kid,” Blaine snapped, reaching out. Chandler hesitated for a moment, then handed over the baby without a word. Blaine cradled Blaine Junior against his chest, his expression softening for just a moment as the baby cooed and grabbed at his shirt.

Without another word, Blaine turned and headed for the front door. He yanked it open, stepping out into the warm Del Sol Valley air. The sprawling hills and glittering skyline stretched out before him, but Blaine barely noticed. He was already halfway down the driveway, his son held tightly in his arms, when Chandler called after him.

“Great-grandpa! Where are you going?”

“Out,” Blaine barked over his shoulder. “Don’t wait up.”

“Don’t wait up? Who says that? I wasn’t gonna … Duuude,” Chandler retorted with bewilderment.

Del Sol Valley Cemetery

The cemetery was shrouded in a heavy stillness, the kind that pressed against Blaine’s chest as he sat cross-legged in front of the Cameron family crypt where his parents and now Scarlett lay to rest. Blaine Junior squirmed happily in his lap, oblivious to the weight of the moment. The baby waved his tiny fists in the air, as though reaching for something—or someone—unseen.

But Blaine saw her.

She stood there, just a few feet away, her elegant frame draped in the flowing shadows of twilight. Scarlett looked like something out of a Gothic portrait—tall, slender, with pale, porcelain skin that seemed to glow in the fading light. Her long, straight black hair fell like silk over her shoulders, framing her large silver eyes that gleamed with a mix of warmth and sharpness. She was the epitome of classic beauty, ageless and otherworldly, the kind of presence that would make anyone stop and stare. But for Blaine, she was more than beautiful. She was Scarlett—his Scarlett.

His own appearance was a stark contrast. Blaine’s shaggy dark brown hair, now streaked heavily with gray, was as unkempt as ever. His light green eyes, once youthful and bright, had dulled with age, the faint creases around them deepened by grief and exhaustion. Dressed in a tattered band tee with some bawdy comment scrawled across it, frayed black jeans, and his battered leather biker jacket, Blaine still clung to his rocker persona. But the years weighed on him, his face lined with wrinkles that told a story of love, loss, and the toll of a life lived hard. He looked like a man trying to hold onto something—anything—while standing on the edge of a precipice.

“Letty,” Blaine muttered, his gravelly voice barely carrying above the rustle of the wind. “You know if you were alive right now, you’d be giving me hell for letting him get under my skin.”

Scarlett didn’t speak, as usual. Her lips curved in a faint smile, and her silver eyes softened as she tilted her head slightly. Blaine felt the weight of her gaze like a physical touch, soothing and sharp all at once. Whether she was really there or just a manifestation of his battered heart, Blaine didn’t know. He didn’t care. She was there for him, in whatever way she could be.

“You’d probably tell me to cut him some slack, wouldn’t you?” Blaine muttered, running a hand through his hair and mussing it further. He laughed bitterly. “Christ, you always did love making me feel like an idiot.”

Blaine Junior babbled happily, his tiny hands reaching upward as if he could see Scarlett, too. Blaine shifted the baby in his arms, his expression softening despite the storm raging inside him.

“Yeah, see that? Smart kid,” Blaine said, his voice thick with emotion. “He knows you’re here too. Gets that from you. He’s got your brains, your charm. Not like his old man.”

The sound of footsteps behind him made Blaine’s entire body stiffen. He turned slowly, and his relaxed moment shattered the instant he saw Cesare standing a few feet away, his dark figure sharp against the muted cemetery backdrop.

“You again!? You are worse than herpes! What the hell are you doing here?” Blaine growled, his voice low and dangerous. He stood up slowly, holding Blaine Junior protectively against his chest.

“I came to visit my daughter,” Cesare said carefully, his tone calm but measured. “Just like you.”

Blaine’s blood boiled, his rage flaring to life in an instant. “You don’t get to visit her,” he snapped, his voice venomous. “You lost that right when you turned your back on me. Letty is mine!”

Cesare stepped closer, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. “Blaine, please. I’m not here to fight.”

“Like hell you’re not,” Blaine hissed, his green eyes narrowing. “This is my time. My space. You don’t get to ruin this for me.”

He started to curse again, but the words caught in his throat. Blaine froze, his body going stiff, his gaze snapping back to Scarlett. She moved closer—or at least, it felt like she did. Her silver eyes locked onto his, and Blaine suddenly felt that familiar tug, as if she were pulling the anger right out of him.

“What?” Blaine muttered under his breath; his tone softer now. “No. No way. I’m not listening to you on this. No Ma’am. Nope! Letty stop! I said I am not doing that!”

Cesare frowned, glancing to the side, where Blaine was seemingly addressing thin air. “Blaine … who are you talking to?”

Blaine ignored him, his attention focused solely on the same spot. “No, I don’t care what you think. He doesn’t deserve it. Not after everything he’s done. I am not listeing, nope, lalalalalala!”

Scarlett’s expression didn’t change, but Blaine could feel her disapproval, sharp and unyielding. He groaned, running his hand through his hair again. “Seriously, Letty? You sure you don’t want me to kick his undead ass instead? Fine. FINE. Chill, woman. I said fine! Keep your panties on, girl!”

Cesare took another cautious step forward, his confusion and concern written plainly across his face. “Blaine… maybe you need some rest. Let me take you and the baby home. Maybe someone else should take care of the little one for a while, and maybe you should talk to a professional?”

“Don’t you even start!” Blaine barked, turning on Cesare with a fiery glare. “Do not say it! She is there. You just don’t get to see her, cos you are an asshole. Well, I know I am too, but I am a different kind of asshole than you are. She’s mine. You don’t get to take this from me too! She is there, she is real and you can go fuck the fuck off! Especially since YOU are not one to talk, vampires don’t exist, or at least they shouldn’t. So, if she isn’t there, neither are YOU!”

Scarlett’s presence grew heavier, and Blaine sighed, his anger draining away like air from a balloon. “You’re really gonna make me do this, huh?” he muttered, his voice quieter now. He glanced back at Scarlett, his expression pained. “Fine. But if this goes south, it’s on you.”

Without another word, Blaine stepped forward and handed Blaine Junior to Cesare.

“There,” Blaine grumbled, his tone sharp. “You wanted to meet him? Here’s your chance. Fuck it up and I will fuck you up. Do not even dream of doing some vanishing act or I swear I will lead every vampire hunter I can find straight to your damn doorstep!”

Cesare stared at the baby with amazement, his sharp features softening for the first time in the years since Scarlett passed as he took the little boy from Blaine. A tentative smile flickered across his face as Blaine Junior reached for him with wide, curious eyes.

“Thank you, my petal,” Cesare murmured in the general direction Blaine had been addressing, his voice thick with emotion. “You always had a way to speak sense into your husband.”

Blaine’s head snapped up, his green eyes blazing. “Oh, what now? You’re talking to him too? Letty, that is not cool, not cool at all! I thought you said that was for me only! Yeah, I don’t care that he’s your father! He’s a dick!”

Cesare looked at Blaine, then back to the empty space beside him, a faint smile still on his lips. “She’s always looking out for you, Blaine. For both of us. She has always been special.”

Blaine threw his hands up, pacing a few steps away like a frustrated child. “Unbelievable! I can’t even have a private moment with my dead wife without you butting in. Fuckin’ Father-in-Law. I thought that shit ended when the marriage ends. Then again, I guess the marriage didn’t end. She’s just not here … like … physically. So you are still my father-in-law? Disgusting!”

Cesare chuckled softly, his gaze never leaving Blaine Junior. “She always had a way of making herself heard.”

Blaine stopped pacing, turning to glare at Cesare. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. This doesn’t mean we’re pals now, or whatever.”

Cesare nodded solemnly. “I wouldn’t expect it to.”

For a moment, the cemetery fell silent again, save for the happy gurgles of Blaine Junior. Blaine shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, staring at Cesare and the invisible presence of Scarlett with a mix of frustration and resignation. He didn’t know what Scarlett wanted him to do—but for now, this was enough.

Cesare cradled Blaine Junior carefully, then pressed the baby against himself gently but tightly, his features softening as the baby giggled and reached for his face. The sight of his grandson’s innocent joy brought a rare smile to Cesare’s lips, one that seemed to chip away at the cold, stoic mask he usually wore, and one with his fangs carefully hidden to not scare the little boy in his arms.

“Thank you,” Cesare said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “For this. For letting me meet him. He is absolutely precious.”

Blaine’s jaw tightened, his green eyes narrowing as he watched the interaction. Blaine Junior’s happy coos and the way he seemed to light up in Cesare’s arms only made the knot in Blaine’s chest tighten. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

“That’s enough,” Blaine snapped, his voice sharp. He stepped forward, holding out his arms. “Gimme back my son. He’s too sweet a kid and doesn’t know you’re a douche. Nor will he, on my account, but I do, and I make the decisions for him right now.”

Cesare hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on the baby, planting a tender kiss on the child’s forehead, starkly contrasting the fact of who and moreover, what he was, before he nodded and carefully handed Blaine Junior back.

Blaine’s eyes flashed with anger. The moment Blaine Junior was back in his arms, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and demonstratively wiped the spot where Cesare’s lips had touched. “There. All better,” he muttered, glaring at Cesare. “We don’t want no nasty Dracula-drool on you.”

Cesare straightened, his expression unreadable, though there was a flicker of sadness in his silver eyes. He took a step back, his hands clasped in front of him. “Blaine,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with something softer, “I would like to bring my wife here next time. Breanne would really like to meet her grandson too. Please, have a heart. For her. She had nothing to do with our … falling out. She actually set me straight quite vigorously.”

Blaine froze, his grip on Blaine Junior tightening slightly. His green eyes bore into Cesare’s, a storm of emotions swirling behind them—anger, grief, and something else he couldn’t quite name. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat.

For a moment, he glanced to the side, where Scarlett stood—or where he thought she stood. Her silver eyes met his, calm and unyielding, and Blaine felt that familiar tug again, the one that made him feel like he was losing an argument he hadn’t even started.

“Letty,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and strained. “You can’t be serious.”

Scarlett didn’t say anything—she never did—but Blaine could feel her answer as clearly as if she’d spoken it aloud. He groaned, running a hand through his messy hair, his frustration bubbling over.

“Fine,” Blaine snapped, turning back to Cesare. “But don’t think this means I’m rolling out the red carpet for you two. You get one visit. One. Same time, same place, tomorrow. Be late and that was it! And if either of you tries anything funny, I swear to God, I’ll—”

“Thank you,” Cesare interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. “That’s all I ask.”

Blaine glared at him for a long moment, then turned his attention back to Blaine Junior, who was happily chewing on his tiny fist. “You hear that, kid?” Blaine muttered, his tone softer now. “Your grandpa’s bringing company next time. Whole fucking family reunion. Lucky us. At least your grandma is a nice one. Much nicer than you dickwad grandpa there.”

Cesare’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, but he didn’t say anything. He simply nodded, his gaze lingering on Blaine Junior for a moment longer before he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the cemetery.

Blaine let out a long, frustrated sigh, bouncing Blaine Junior gently in his arms. “You’re lucky your mom’s got a soft spot for him,” he muttered, glancing back at the empty space where Scarlett had been. “Because I sure as hell don’t. Then again, he is her father. Between you and me, I always liked your grandma, not her fault, but she is just guilty by association. So, you’ll get to meet her tomorrow then.”

Blaine Junior giggled, his tiny hands reaching for Blaine’s face, and for the first time that day, Blaine managed a small, weary smile. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said softly. “I’m a just fucking hilarious. Your mom always thought so. Especially after she just raked me over the coals like now. Making me be nice-ish to that a-hole. Seriously, Letty, that was low! Hope it amused you.”

San Sequoia
Dr. Connor Cameron’s residence

The dining area buzzed with the cozy energy of a family morning. At the head of the table sat Connor, his coffee mug in one hand and his phone in the other, his focus flickering between scrolling and the chatter around him. On one side of the table, Keira added the finishing touches to her toast, spreading jelly with deliberate strokes. Across from her, Chris was immersed in his phone, his youthful mischief lingering in his expression.

The smells of sizzling bacon, freshly brewed coffee, and buttery pancakes mingled with the faint sweetness of warm toast, filling the air with a homely, comforting aroma. Sunlight streamed through the wide windows, illuminating the table and the open kitchen beyond it.

“Chris, go wake the two Blaines up, kid. Make yourself useful for once,” Connor directed, nudging Chris with a pointed look.

Chris smirked, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Dad, as much as I’d love to take over nursery and geriatric care,” he teased, standing up with a mischievous glint in his eye, “I’ve got places to be. You invited great-grandpa, so you deal. Later!”

Before Connor could get another word out, Chris leaned over and swiped the toast Keira had just finished preparing—for herself, biting into it, grinning at her from a corner of his mouth before she had a chance to try reclaim it.

“Brat!” Keira protested, waving the butter knife as Chris darted out of the dining area with his backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. The front door shut with a decisive thud as he disappeared into the day.

“And I didn’t invite anyone—he just showed up! What was I supposed to do, tell my grandfather he can’t come in? Or send an old man with an infant to drive back the three hours to Del Sol Valley in the dark?!” Connor called after him, shaking his head and laughing under his breath.

Connor raised his coffee in mock salute to Keira. “Man, Keke, where did we go wrong with raising him? Kid’s got his priorities all warped. Stealing toast instead of making his own, Saturday football practice over family time, and zero interest in helping his great-grandpa get out of bed. What a little shithead!”

Keira rolled her eyes and handed him a plate stacked with golden pancakes. “Baby, let it go. You were the same way at his age—I should know. Grew up under the same roof, remember?”

Connor sighed, setting his phone down. “Nah, I was enrolled in college by sixteen—I graduated early, remember? But yeah, I know. Anyway, usually the smell of coffee has Grandpa racing in here like the Roadrunner. You think he’s okay?”

Keira set her fork down and glanced toward the hallway, her expression softening. “Grandpa’s fine. He’s just tired. Let him sleep. He’s got a baby to look after now, and that’s a lot. Give him a break. Yesterday he was cracking us all up with his stories—he’s still sharp as a tack. And we all stayed up way past our bedtimes, when you get his age, it just takes more of a toll on you. I gotta say, I’m not at full speed myself, and you look worse for wear, Connor. We’re a third his age. Honestly, he’s looking and doing amazing. You can only hope to have his kind of energy.”

Connor chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I know. It’s just hard seeing loved ones get older. Same thing with our parents—they’re still super fit and with it, but their age shows. I can’t help it, I still expect them to look the way they used to.” He paused, taking a sip of coffee, then stretching his arms behind his chair.

When their plates were empty, Keira rose to clear the table, stacking the dishes and mugs together. Connor joined her, taking the plates from her hands with a teasing smile. He leaned in, kissed her cheek, and grinned. “I guess I’ll go check on our self-invited houseguests now. At the very least, I’ll feed Blaine Jr. and he probably is gonna need a fresh diaper. No reason for the kid to starve and lay in his own pee just because his dad decided to hibernate like a grizzly from staying up a couple hours later than usual.”

Keira smirked, rolling her eyes. “You’re terrible. If Blaine heard that, he would kick your ass for it, no matter his age.”

Connor headed to the guest room on the ground level, knocking twice on the door. “Grandpa! Breakfast is ready. Wake up, you deaf old rocker! I guess your days of partying all night long are over. Say no or I am coming in and you better be dressed!”

No response.

Connor knocked again, louder this time. “Don’t make me come in there and wrestle you out of bed. You know I’ll do it. Just throw your skinny butt over my shoulder and dump you in the kitchen. Keke will spoon-feed you breakfast if she must, not a joke.”

Still nothing.

With a sigh and a muttered complaint about old men and their sleep schedules, Connor opened the door and stepped inside. The room was quiet, the morning light spilling across the bed and Blaine Junior’s crib.

The infant  was awake, kicking his tiny legs and letting out soft, amused babbles. Connor’s first thought was the smell—his nose wrinkled, and he muttered, “Yummy aroma. Looks like someone had an early morning explosion. Lucky for you I am still in training with the fruit of my sister’s loins. Let’s get you cleaned up and then we’ll kick your lazy daddy out of the feathers so he can take over. I don’t mind you guys coming for a visit, but I didn’t sign up for diaper duty on my own uncle. Oh jeeze, this family really has no clue how to be normal. If someone hears me say that, I swear it … yikes.”

He lifted Blaine Junior from the crib, his practiced hands already grabbing the diaper supplies. “You know, kid,” Connor said as he cleaned the baby up, “you’re lucky my ungrateful brat of a son didn’t come in here, if he were to help your shitty diaper situation at all I wouldn’t put it past him to take you out back, strip you down and hose you off with the garden hose, then trying to duct tape you into a clean diaper. If he doesn’t change as he gets older, I already apologize to the future mother of his kids.”

Once Blaine Junior was tended to, Connor shifted his focus to the bed. “Grandpa, come on,” he said, crossing the room and resting a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “You’re really playing up this whole ‘old man’ routine—”

The words died on his lips as he froze, a sharp chill racing down his spine. Blaine lay too still, his expression too serene, his complexion unnervingly pale with a waxy, unnatural sheen. The sight punched through Connor’s chest like a hammer of dread, and his instincts as a physician took over in a heartbeat. He reached for Blaine’s wrist, searching for the faintest sign of life. Nothing.

“Grandpa, don’t do this,” Connor muttered, his voice trembling, each word barely escaping his throat. He leaned closer, pressing his ear against Blaine’s chest. Silence. Just an endless, hollow silence.

Connor straightened, his hands trembling as despair clawed at the edges of his resolve. “Oh, no,” he whispered, the words raw and broken. Tears streaked down his face unnoticed as he begged, his voice cracking. “Please, Grandpa, please don’t do this to me!”

The Family’s Grief

The hours that followed blurred into a haze of desperation and disbelief. Reflexively, Connor had attempted CPR, only to halt abruptly as the unmistakable stiffness of rigor mortis set in. It was too late. Driven by a frantic need for answers, he ran every test he could think of, clinging to the hope that something—anything—might explain the unthinkable. But the results were unyielding: no drugs, no toxins, no medical anomalies. Blaine’s heart and organs were pristine, his body free of any discernible cause. By all accounts, there was no reason for him to be gone.

“It’s… insane,” Connor murmured, his voice cracking as he stared at the medical sheets in his trembling hands, surrounded by his family. “The doctor in me says it just can’t be but it’s the only thing that even remotely makes sense …” His words faltered, his throat tightening painfully.

Keira stepped closer, her touch gentle as she rested her hand on his arm. “What is it, baby?” she asked softly.

Connor swallowed hard, his green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “A broken heart,” he whispered, the words fragile and aching. “I think he just… gave up. I’ve heard of people dying from a broken heart, but medically, it’s supposed to be a myth. And yet…”

“Stubborn old bastard,” Chase muttered, his voice thick with grief and anger. “Sounds just like him. Damn it, Dad. Caitlin’s gonna lose it that she didn’t get to say goodbye. And Vivien… damn, Dad, you just pissed her off something bad by not seeing her last. Oh God, Blake’s heart is already so weak—if he hears you’re gone, we might as well bury him too. Damn it! And the twins are travelling, Gavin has his new grandbabies over, all the way in Brindleton Bay, this is a clusterfuck and now I am gonna have to be the one to call them all. SHIT! Nice way to get one last middle finger in on all of us. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” His words were raw, dark, and tear-laced, each syllable heavy with pain.

Beside him, Hailey clung to his shoulder, her usual quick wit silenced by her own tears soaking into his shirt. Across the room, Iris Marie and Briar Rose, Connor’s younger twin sisters, held each other tightly, their muffled sobs a heartbreaking counterpoint to the storm of emotions swirling around them.

Blaine’s Final Words

A few days later, after the funeral director handed over Blaine’s belongings, Connor sat alone in his office, sorting through the items. Among them was a folded piece of paper, the handwriting unmistakably Blaine’s, and it bore Connor’s name. Connor unfolded it slowly, his heart aching with every word.

Con-Bear,
 
Hey kid, I know this’ll find its way to you. The family dumped the stiff-duty on you, huh? Figures, you being the genius doctor and all. Well, I’m cashing in on that right now—I need you to be the one.

Yeah, I know it’s shitty of me to slap this on your plate, but I felt something off with me. I thought about dragging my sorry ass to the doctors, but truth is, I didn’t want saving. I’m tapped out, kid, stick a goddamn fork in me, I’m done. Tried keeping it together for Blaine Jr. and make Scarlett proud, but screw it—I don’t have another 18 to 20 years left in me to stick around for him. Hell, I don’t even want to make it another day. It’s better for Blaine Jr. if I punch out now, while he’s too young to get it, instead of later when he’ll know what’s going down.

I should’ve told you and Keira why I dropped by, but I knew you’d freak and shut me down. So here’s the deal: I got my shit together and wrote a will. Fully legal, locked up with Jensen at his law firm, thanks to his boring-ass lawyer ways. Spoiler alert—I named him executor, and you, Blaine Jr.’s guardian. But relax, you’re not on diaper duty. That’s gonna be Vivien’s job and I wish I could be there to see her face when she finds out. But she loves daddy and she will do it, I know that, but she will have choice words about it. I already told her she’s moving to the Cameron Mansion, as she should, she’s my oldest but she and Liam think it’s to help me out, instead they’ll be raising Blaine Jr. there till he’s grown, because it’s his damn house now. I want my kid growing up there, where all my other kids grew up—home base for the family legacy, you know? Viv’s got her own squad to lean on if she needs backup, but if you see her flailing, you step in, got it? Pick someone who can raise my kid right. I trust you to handle that.

Why? Simple—out of all the many grandkids, you’re the one who’s got his shit together the most. You would never back down from Vivien, like her siblings or the other grands would, you are not afraid, you never backed down, not even from Caelan or Cesare, and that’s either brave or stupid. Seeing as you’re a genius, I’m betting on brave. Proud of you, kid. Proud of the man, husband, father you’ve become. Sure, your folks laid the foundation, not a secret that Letty and I were always closest to your dad, mom and you kids, because you were the most like us, so I like to think I had a hand in it too, they way you all turned out. Blaine Jr.’s lucky to have you.

Take care of him. Make damn sure he knows I loved him—more than anything. Loved all my kids, grandkids, great-grandkids too, but I had the time to show them. Didn’t have that luxury with Blaine Jr. Wanted to stick around for his third birthday at least, but I’m running on fumes, kid. I’ve got nothing left. By the time you read this, I’m gone.

Man, when they crack my file open at the coroner’s office, they’re gonna shit broken toys. I am fricking 107 damn years old on paper, but we all know that vampire thing messed all that up—fucked me every which way and you guys too. Whose grandpa has an almost 3-year-old kid at this age? I’d laugh my ass off at myself if I weren’t living it. Good luck explaining that to the authorities. I’m glad I won’t have to, and if anyone can, it’s you, Doctor McDreamy. Not sure you’re aware kid, but that’s what most of the girls call ya. I think it’s from some TV show I wouldn’t be bored enough to wanna watch.

Con-Bear, I’m done, kid. Done with the pain, the grind, the bullshit. I’m too old, too beat, too broken. My heart’s giving up on me and I’m letting it. Wanted to stick it out for Blaine Jr., but I can’t. Chandler’s too much of a dingbat to deal with finding me dead, which is why I came here, you’re a doc you’ve seen your share of stiffs—Chandler’d probably run off in some panic, trip and drown in the pool. Blake makes pretty babies, but dumb as bricks. At least you popped out a smart one—Chris is gonna be a rock star someday.

Over the last few weeks, I wrote letters to all the kids, grandkids, even the great-grands. Told them how much I loved them. Those’ll get handed out with the will. Make sure my boy knows who his parents were. You’re the only one I trust to tell him the whole deal—the good, bad, ugly, and beautiful. Scarlett and I had something amazing, kid. But being apart sucks, and now I’m half a person without her. I need to fix that.

And don’t be pissed at me, okay? I’m sorry you’re the one stuck sending me off, but at least I got one last night of laughs before Scarlett comes to get me. When you read this, I’ll be with her again. No, I am not a crazy old man, well, I guess am, what I mean is I am not crazier than usual. But she came to see me yesterday, showed up at home, which she hasn’t done since she’s been gone. The only place I ever saw her was at the cemetery, which is why I hung out there so much, daily, if not several times a day. When she came to see me, I knew why. As I am writing this letter she’s standing here watching me, cooing at our boy, waiting for me to finish and go to bed, so she can take me with her where I belong now, by her side. Finally.

Sorry I’m leaving you with my dead shell but trust me—I’m off to better things. I had my run, it was hella fun, but it’s time to bow out. Love you, kid. Love all of you. But this is it for me.

Over and out, Grandpa

P.S. Teach Blaine Jr. how to curse right and be cool so he doesn’t grow up to be some loser. Have your dad show him the ropes with music too. He’s inheriting my empire—he better have some talent!

P.P.S., I normally sleep naked but didn’t today. If that doesn’t show you how much I love you, then I don’t know what would. You are WELCOME, kid! 😉

This is it for me, over and out, I am gonna exit stage left for the last time ever now.

Remember me with love.”

Connor clutched the note against his chest, his tears falling freely. Blaine had always been larger than life, the fiery, irreverent rocker who didn’t seem bound by the rules of the world, invincible, immortal. But in the end, he was just a man—broken, grieving, and full of love he couldn’t quite give anymore.

“Oh grandpa,” Connor whispered, his voice shaking. “You managed to get one last prank in on all of us, didn’t you. And you know I will make sure your wishes are honored to the T. And I really hope you are with grandma again, it was strange for all of us to see you both apart. Love you, grandpa. This is the end of an era. And hopefully the beginning of a new one.”