Every Breath You Take (The Every Breath Duet Book 1) Page 14

  I pondered what Doctor Bronson said about missing her own mother and how some children took theirs for granted. I would never be that daughter. Especially since my brother wasn’t offering any compassion her way.

  “You’re not a burden. Don’t ever think that, okay?” I pushed the tray closer to her, removing the lid from the still-piping-hot soup and handing her a plastic spoon.

  She took it from me, but her hand stilled as her eyes scanned my face. “I don’t like how you look, London. You’re running yourself ragged.”

  Of course she was right, but she didn’t need to know that. Somehow, I imagined that after my amazing night with Bryce, everything would change. My worries about my mother would magically vanish the same way my heartbreak over Hunter was dwindling to a dull, distant ache.

  I was certain Bryce was capable of miracles, but he wasn’t God.

  I reminded myself of that as I sat in the recliner and unwrapped my BLT. Before I took a bite, I had to put this conversation to rest and reassure my mother that everything was fine. “Mom, if you must know, I’m not tired because of you or work or running ragged. I got very little sleep last night because our beloved Doctor Owen kept me up way past my bedtime.”

  Mom dropped the spoon, and her jaw. I ignored her shock by taking a long awaited bite of my sandwich.

  “London Paige, you let a man spend the night in my home?”

  “I sure did.” Chewing the crunchy mouthful, I nodded flippantly.

  “That’s my girl!” Mom slapped her blanket-clad thigh with a boisterous laugh. “But I can’t believe you went all day without telling me!”

  “Eat.” I swallowed and spoke. “And if you finish it all like a good girl, I’ll fill you in.”

  “Nonsense!” Her eyes widened, a glow that had been missing since she was admitted into the hospital returning to her cheeks. “I want to hear all about it, and leave no stone unturned.” She retrieved the spoon from where it had fallen into her lap and dug into the layer of melted cheese that covered the soup.

  “Ma, I love you, but there is no way I’m rehashing, detail for detail.” My cheeks warmed at the thought. There were certain things—naughty things—a mother should not envision her daughter doing.

  “Oh, that spicy, huh?” She giggled.

  “Mom, please.” I shook my head and stifled my own laughter. “Can we not?” My mother and I had a very open relationship, but there was no way in high holy hell I was going to tell her all the things Bryce and I did to each other last night. Those scintillating memories were for me alone, to cherish and replay the way I had all day long.

  “Come on!” She pouted. “Give a dying woman a reason to smile.”

  Although I was sure it was in jest, her statement and the way in which it eased off her tongue as if it had been waiting to be said, jarred me something awful.

  “Oh my God, Mom!” I dropped my hands into my lap, sandwich and all. “You’re not dying! Don’t ever say that again! You lose hope, we all lose hope. And you’re the queen of hope, for Christ’s sake.” I jumped up from my seat and abandoned the BLT. My appetite was gone. Hearing her talk like this was so unnatural, so out of the blue, I had to think the worst. Had she or Bryce failed to tell me something since we last spoke?

  I grabbed my purse and frantically started for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To find your nurse. To call Bryce. To see if Memphis has finally checked his goddamn email.”

  “Now? Why?”

  “Because . . . there’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?” I stopped mid-stride to turn and face her.

  “Of course not, London. What would make you think that?”

  I marched to her side, kneading my hands together in frenzied knots. What happened when the most devout optimist lost hope? I couldn’t even fathom the outcome. It seemed catastrophic. It crushed me to imagine that my mother’s infallible hope was fading. Even if she meant nothing by it, she still said it. She released it unto the universe and that scared the shit out of me.

  “Never once since the start of this have you ever said anything about death or dying. I know things have taken a turn, but Bryce—hell, everyone we know—is doing whatever they can to make sure you stay healthy and get this transplant as soon as humanly possible. Even Sam offered to be tested as a donor!” My hand flew to my mouth as soon as the words were set free. I’d held off from telling her about Sam because I still wasn’t sure whether I would take him up on it. I instantly regretted my outburst.

  “He did?” Her eyes watered with unshed tears, her bottom lip trembling.

  I rushed over and sat on the bed, taking her hands in mine. “Please don’t cry.”

  “How can I not?” She pulled out of my grasp and fanned her face in futile effort to prevent the waterworks from coming. “Why didn’t you tell me? He’s not a match either; that’s it, right?”

  “No, no, it’s nothing like that.” I reached forward to caresses her cheek. My fingertips were rough from a day’s worth of hair washing but her barely wrinkled skin was soft and supple to the touch. How could I explain without giving her too much to stew over? If she knew the way my brain reeled on a daily basis, she’d worry herself sick. For me. Because that was my mom, always putting me and my brother first. I had to word this properly. I had to channel my inner Bryce. “I didn’t tell you because we don’t want to jump the gun. Bryce wants Memphis to get tested first. He said blood relatives are the best match. There’s no reason to put Sam through the trouble once Memphis pulls through.”

  “Have you heard from him yet?”

  I silently shook my head. I had to bite back the impatient anger I felt toward my brother. He was one of those kids Doctor Bronson was talking about earlier. The ones who took their mothers for granted. I didn’t rely on his help or support but, right now, our mother did. He knew she wasn’t doing well, and yet he failed to even check in on a regular basis. The more I thought about it the more furious I became.

  “Don’t be mad, London. You know how he is.”

  “Yeah, selfish.”

  “He’s not selfish, he’s—”

  “Careless. Ignorant. Absent!” I threw my hands up and paced the room. I couldn’t help being pissed. He was my only sibling, Mom’s only son. Where was his loyalty? Why was he ignoring us?

  “When was the last time he called, Mom? Name one instance when he took the time to see if we need anything. Do you know he hasn’t mentioned Hunter since January? January! Memphis was the best man at our damn wedding and he hasn’t had the decency to ask me one single question about why he left or how I feel!” I took a deep breath and exhaled through gritted teeth. I hadn’t realized how much I resented him until that very moment.

  But one look in her direction and I could tell I was upsetting my mother. Shit! The tantrum had to stop here. It was pointless anyway. I couldn’t make Memphis email me back and I couldn’t guarantee he’d be a match. I could only apologize for making this about my issues with my brother when it had nothing to do with the reason I brought his name up in the first place.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have made this about me. You need him now and that’s why I’m angry. I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent. I’m just a little . . . overwhelmed.” I hated to admit that aloud to her. She was the last person I should be confessing that to. I really was a terrible daughter. Doctor Bronson had no idea what she was talking about.

  “Baby girl, come here.” Mom curled her index finger and beckoned me to her side.

  I did as told, feeling horribly selfish because I was in desperate need of my mother’s comfort. I should’ve been putting her at ease. Maybe I was just as selfish as Memphis. Maybe I was worse. But I rested my head against her frail chest, basking in the way the beat of her loving heart filled my ears and seeped into the empty parts of me that most needed its sweet song.

  “I’m so sorry.” It was a meek attempt, a flimsy whisper.

  “Don’t be.” She patted my head. “This
isn’t anyone’s fault, nor is it anyone’s responsibility. I’ll be okay. I can feel it. We hit a bump but it’s not a mountain. Shit happens, London, but we can’t allow it to define us. Right?”

  I recalled a similar conversation after my breakup with Hunter. All those months ago, her logic sounded ridiculous, so far out of reach the words were almost foreign. But she’d been right. I met Bryce. I found some semblance of happiness again. I managed to not let losing Hunter define the rest of my life.

  “Right as always.” I smiled and lifted my head to meet her eyes. “So, what do we do now?”

  Long, lanky fingers reached out to swipe at my tears. She inhaled through her nose, fast and loud, and then sat up tall. “We wait. We pray. We don’t lose hope.”

  I knew she was right, yet again, but I wondered how someone in her position could still hold true to her faith. It had been tested so many times, yet she still believed. I was in complete awe of her resilience.

  Bending forward, I kissed her softly, right on the mouth, like we had countless times when I was a little girl. I couldn’t remember the last time I did that and it stung to consider maybe it hurt her when I stopped.

  The long-forgotten gesture made her giggle and a smile erased any worry from her face as she pressed her head into the pillow behind her.

  I stood and plumped the crappy excuse for a cushion, then repositioned the food tray in front of her so she could resume eating the remainder of her dinner. When I settled back into the recliner to finish my own sandwich, I caught Mom glaring at me with a playful grin.

  “What?” I wiped away a blob of mayo that had dripped out of the BLT and onto my lips.

  With that glimmer of unrelenting hope and optimism ever-present in her big blue eyes, she tilted her head and brought her hands together in prayer. “Can I at least get the PG version of your date with Bryce?”

  WHENEVER I NEEDED it most, the sea was there to bring me peace.

  Sam and I were going to look at a few houses with a realtor in an hour, but first I needed this. The tranquility. Just me, my thoughts, and the ocean.

  After responding to Bryce’s last text, I silenced my phone and tucked it away in my back pocket. He was sweet to check in, to ask about my day at the salon, to express his excitement about our date tomorrow night. I smiled when I thought about what he had planned—the carnival. It would be fun to let loose and act like a kid again. God knew I needed that right now. I guessed Bryce did too. I was lucky to have him. He’d turned up just when I needed him most. He was the brightest light in what seemed like an ongoing thread of dark days. Unfortunately, even his light wasn’t bright enough to outshine the gloomy worries that plagued me.

  I dug my toes in the sand and closed my eyes for what felt like hours. A warm breeze floated across my face and the wild strands of hair that had fallen from my ponytail tickled my skin. I swept them back with a heavy sigh, granting everything that troubled me the permission to run around haphazardly in my mind.

  My mother wasn’t getting any better.

  I still hadn’t heard from Memphis.

  I was working more hours than I ever had in my life and still wasn’t making ends meet.

  I hated living alone in that big house without my mother and had no idea when she’d be healthy enough to come home.

  I was a twenty-six-year-old divorcee.

  And as much as I thought I was over him, as much as I enjoyed what was blossoming between Bryce and me, I still missed Hunter.

  Yeah, one could say my inner thoughts were a bit depressing. Between caring for Mom and working my ass off, it felt as if I was being pulled by my arms in opposite directions. A fierce grip that tugged without mercy to test how much I could withstand before I tore down the middle in two jagged pieces.

  “Dramatic much?” I said aloud, disgusted with myself for being so weak-minded.

  “I thought your imaginary friend took a hike after you met me? Or have you resorted to talking to yourself like a crazy lady?”

  I looked over my shoulder at the sound of Sam’s voice, surprised once again that he snuck up on me when I was supposed to be alone. While I should have been startled, I was relieved. I loved that he knew to find me here and that he took it upon himself to figure out I needed him.

  “How’d you know I was here?”

  Sam let out a gravelly chuckle and plopped down beside me on the sand. “What, you think a little distance changes the fact I know you better than you know yourself, Monroe?” He kicked away a clumpy piece of seaweed and brushed the sand off his hands. “You didn’t answer my calls. I checked the house but when I saw your car was gone I knew where you’d be.”

  “I could have been anywhere.”

  The weight of Sam’s stare was evident without even glancing his way. “How many times have we come here together, London? It might be your place, but it’s also the same spot we’ve hashed out most of our shit over the years.”

  This was true. Sam and I had spent many a night under the stars laughing, fighting, crying. “Yeah, I guess it’s as much your spot as it is mine.” I nudged my shoulder against his. While unexpected, his company was welcome. I was happy he was here. Much like the sea, he also knew how to bring me peace.

  “What’s on your mind this time, or is that the stupidest question I’ve ever asked?”

  I shrugged, unwilling to fault him but also reluctant to unleash. Again. Since he’d been home I’d done nothing but pile my shit storm of fears and anxieties in his lap. This afternoon was supposed to be about helping him find a place, not helping me get through another crisis.

  I settled on a vague answer in hopes he would change the subject. “Same shit, different day.”

  A comfortable silence permeated the air between us. I knew he was allowing me the moment of clarity, a beat to wallow before moving forward. I inhaled the salty air into my nose and then exhaled through my mouth as if to empty my turmoil with the last of my pent-up breath.

  “I started the evaluation process and I made an appointment,” he blurted.

  “For?”

  “To be screened as a match for Ella.”

  I swiveled in the sand to face him. Sam stared ahead, his jaw tense as he visibility clenched his teeth. “Sam! You didn’t have to . . . We were supposed to talk about this.”

  “London.” His response was intended to mollify me, to show he was firm in his decision.

  An array of irrational emotions engulfed my heart. They were as powerful as the tide, capable of pulling me under and drowning me until I perished. That he would do this was so selfless it fused my broken pieces back together again. That he did it without asking made me furious but relieved at the same time. Truth be told, I’d planned on asking him today. I’d made my decision, as well. I couldn’t wait another day to hear from Memphis knowing Sam was willing to help.

  It was crazy how he always knew how I felt without being told. I was a phantom limb, an invisible continuation of his being. We were that close, even now that we were adults and life had gotten in the way.

  Tears burned the back of my throat before they pricked my eyes. Without any force, they shed freely at the thought of the gift Sam could potentially offer my mother. And me. “Thank you, Sam. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Smoldering green eyes met mine and he opened his arms, inviting me to settle against his chest. “You don’t have to worry about what you’d do without me. You should know by now that I’ll always be here for you.”

  He’d said it a million times before and not once had he broken that promise.

  I cried a mixture of grateful tears and painful sobs in the comfort of his arms. I was thankful in so many ways for everything he’d done for me in the past and what he was willing to do to provide me with a happy future.

  My best friend’s better than yours. I wanted to tattoo that on my chest for the world to see. Or at least put it on a T-shirt. I would wear it proudly and gloat for all of eternity. There was nothing I was more sure of, nothing more true.


  “You better not be snotting up my shirt. We have a realtor to meet in like half an hour.” Leave it to Sam to save the day, bring me to tears, and get me to laugh, all in a matter of minutes.

  I giggled against his chest and purposely dragged my nose across his polo shirt, pretending to leave a trail of boogers on the clean blue cotton. When I backed away, I sniffed for good measure and flashed an impish grin. “Snotty McSnots, at your service.”

  “For such a pretty girl you sure are gross.” He looked down at his shirt in disgust, smiling when he realized I was only playing.

  “See, you’re fine. Unscathed and impeccable as always.” I reached over to tug on his misshapen collar to stiffen it back into place.

  Familiar hands encircled my wrists. The sudden skin-on-skin warmth made me pause, a bundle of heady feelings lodged in my throat.

  Sam was the kind of guy who often spoke without words. His expressive eyes did all the talking. I knew by the way he fixed them on me so intently that he was about to ask if I was okay, if there was anything he could do to make things right. I should have interrupted and insisted he stop babying me, but a tiny, insecure piece of the broken girl who lingered inside me wanted to hear him actually say the words. I needed to hear I was cared for even though I already knew I was.

  Swallowing hard, he kept a firm grip on my now flaccid wrists and voiced the words his eyes had already spoken for him. “Seriously, London. How do I know you’re really okay? You’ve been through a lot all at once. I know you came here because you’re overwhelmed. What can I do?”

  Fluttering lids cloaked my eyes. I used the moment of darkness to appreciate the heightened nature of my other senses. The ocean crashed against the shore in a renewing rhythm. The waves fizzled when they broke and then rolled away in a calming song. The briny sea air wafted around us, mixed with the aroma of Sam’s signature scent of cinnamon chewing gum and citrusy cologne. My skin prickled with goose bumps, both from the cool, misty breeze gliding off the ocean and the closeness of my most treasured friend.