by Levine, Nina
We finish our goodbyes and when I leave, Jett’s sitting back on the bed next to his sister. The last thing I hear is him telling her about his night on stage.
It’s going to be a long night for him.
Hell, it’s going to be a long journey for all of us.
30
Jett
My phone sounds with a text, waking me. I shift in the chair and cringe when the pain shoots through my neck from the position I’ve been sleeping in. Opening my eyes, I see Claudia is still asleep and I move as silently as I can so as not to wake her. A minute later, I’m outside in the hall, having successfully navigated my way out without waking her up.
The text is from Van.
* * *
Van: How’s Claudia?
Me: It’s ovarian cancer and she has pneumonia on top of that.
* * *
He calls me. “I’m so sorry, man.” His voice reveals his own pain and I figure he’s thinking about his mother who died from breast cancer a few years ago.
I kick my boot on the floor. “Yeah, me too. Fucking cancer.”
“Are we cancelling the gig tonight?”
Raking my hand through my hair, I mentally curse the universe. We’re supposed to be flying to Sydney at lunchtime for a gig tonight. “I won’t be there. You guys could do it without me.”
He is quiet for a few moments and then blows out a long breath. “We’ve got three weeks of promo ahead of us, and I can’t see you being able to make any of it. And I don’t expect you to. Hell, we should be the furthest thing from your mind at the moment, so I vote we cancel everything.”
I let his words settle in my gut. And I fight against them. I don’t want to let the band down, and on top of that, I’ve got a lot personally riding on our next album.
But fuck, Claudia comes before all of that.
“Jett, you still there?” Van asks.
I start pacing the corridor, the tension punching through my body as I struggle with this decision. The only fucking decision worth making in this situation. “Yeah, I’m still here and you’re right, we should cancel it all.” I pause before adding, “I’m fucking sorry, Van.”
His voice is rough when he replies. Harsh, almost, as if he’s angry, but I know he’s not angry at me. He’s angry at the world for everything he’s lost and everything I could lose. “Don’t ever fucking say that. We’ve always run things this way and as far as I’m concerned, we’ll always fucking run things this way. Family first.”
“Thanks.” I want to say more but my voice chokes up; I know if I say anything else, I’ll lose it, so I stop talking.
“I’ll sort it out; you just concentrate on your shit,” he says and ends the call.
Shoving my phone in my pocket, I open the door to Claudia’s room to see if she’s awake yet. She isn’t, so I close the door and start walking down the corridor towards the exit.
I need to get out of here for a bit.
I need to catch my breath because I feel like I’m drowning.
The sun welcomes me as I step outside the hospital. The day is alive with early morning humidity and the sounds of distant traffic and I stand still, close my eyes and let it all wash over me.
She better not die.
I squeeze my eyes and suck back the emotions as they rush at me.
Why her?
“Jett.”
My eyes snap open to find Presley standing in front of me, watching me with concern.
“Thank fuck,” I mutter and curl my arm around her neck so I can pull her in for a kiss. She doesn’t even blink at my morning breath but I make a mental note to buy some toothpaste on our way back up to the room.
I let her go and she stares up at me. “Did you get any sleep?”
“Some. You?”
“Not much. I couldn’t switch my brain off. How is she today?”
“She’s still asleep, but she coughed for most of the night and was burning up. I’m worried her pneumonia is getting worse and that’s something she can’t afford.” Hell, I shudder to think what it would mean for her if it does get worse.
Presley takes in what I’ve said for a moment. She moves into my space and leans her head against my chest while putting her arms around me. My arms go around her waist and I hold her tight. I’m so fucking glad she’s here. “I’m sorry, Jett,” she murmurs against me.
I run my hand up and down her back and stare into space, not wanting to ever let her go. “It’s weird, but good,” I say softly.
She doesn’t move, just keeps hold of me and asks, “What’s weird?”
“The way I’ve come to rely on you so much so soon. I never ever expected to feel this way about someone.”
Her body stills and I almost expect her to avoid the discussion, but she looks up at me and agrees, “I know what you mean.”
It’s a moment, a monumental fucking moment for us, because I’ve fought hard to get her to admit she wants what I want, and I know she’s giving that to me now. Any other time, I would have cracked the champagne after hearing those words, but today, all I can manage is to brush my lips across hers and then rest my forehead against her forehead.
She gets it, though. She knows what her words mean to me. A contented sigh tells me this. And not for the first time, I thank a God I’m not sure I believe in anymore for giving her to me.
The day passes in a blur. Presley doesn’t leave my side, and we spend the entire day at the hospital with my family. If the reason we were all together were anything other than what it is, it would have been a perfect day. My family and Presley are getting on well, and I’ve loved watching their interactions. Claudia, in particular, approves of my choice and has spent a lot of the day giving me knowing looks.
By four o’clock, I’m exhausted and decide to head home for a shower and a rest. Claudia’s feeling about the same as she was this morning, and the doctors are closely monitoring her, so I’m confident that leaving her will be okay.
“We’ll call if we need you,” my mother says as she waves Presley and me out of the room.
Although I’ve made the decision to go home, I’m finding it hard to leave, so Presley has to almost drag me down the corridors of the hospital and out to her car.
“You okay?” she asks as she turns the key in the ignition, watching me closely.
I lay my head back against the headrest and think about her question. Turning my head so I can look at her, I answer honestly, “I really don’t know . . . I feel numb with shock . . . and angry that she has to go through it again. And, fuck . . . stage four ovarian cancer . . .” My voice drifts off because I don’t want to say the words I am thinking. None of us need to hear those words, but I know we’re all thinking them.
She twists her body so she’s facing me, and rests her head on the seat. Reaching for my hand, she holds it while we sit with the car idling. The silence is too much for me; it gives my thoughts the space they need to move into focus more, and that’s something I don’t need at the moment. So I fill the quiet. “Thank you for spending the day with us.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Jett. That’s what I’m here for.” Her thumb traces lazy patterns over my hand as her eyes find mine.
“As in that’s what girlfriends are for?” I ask, wanting to have this conversation. Needing to have this conversation.
Her thumb doesn’t skip a beat; she doesn’t skip a beat. “Are you asking me if I’ll be your girlfriend?”
I raise my brows and smirk at her. “Sweetheart, I think we’re past that point here. I’m not asking, I’m just making sure you know where we’re at.”
Her thumb keeps moving and her lips shift into a smile. “So let me get this straight . . . we’re together, and I’m not to date anyone else now. Or did I screw that up?”
The thought of her dating anyone else causes my gut to tighten. I pull her to me and bruise her lips with a rough, deep kiss and growl, “You got that damn straight; you’re not to date anyone else now.”
Lust clouds her eyes and s
he bites her swollen bottom lip as she nods. “Just checking, baby.”
I let her go and take a long breath.
At least one good thing has happened today.
We sleep for hours and just after ten that night, my phone buzzes.
* * *
Dad: I’m taking your mother home to rest. Claudia is asleep and okay but thought you might want to know she’s by herself now.
Me: I’ll head up to the hospital now.
* * *
Presley stirs but doesn’t wake fully when I move off the bed. My gaze drops to her body as the sheet shifts, and the sight of her naked breast causes my dick to jerk. I haven’t fucked her since yesterday morning and that’s too long in my opinion, but I’m not going to wake her now because my only goal at the moment is to get to the hospital as fast as I can. I don’t want Claudia to wake up to a room with no one in it.
I dress quickly and let myself out of Presley’s apartment and head downstairs to her car. She told me to borrow it if I woke up, and as I ease into it, I grimace when I hit my head. Small cars and me don’t get along, and Presley’s tiny Mazda needs to go if I’ve got any say in it.
The traffic isn’t too bad, and the fact Presley lives close to the Princess Alexandra hospital means I make it there in around ten minutes. And less than ten minutes after that, I enter Claudia’s room and breathe a sigh of relief when I find her peacefully asleep. Closing the door softly behind me, I make my way to the armchair and drop into it. I’m exhausted with jet lag catching up and little sleep since arriving back in Australia, but my mind is going a million miles an hour and I know I won’t sleep much tonight.
“Why are you here?” Claudia asks as she shifts in the bed to face me. She coughs as she does this and I reach to pass her the glass of water that’s sitting on the table next to her bed. Taking it from me, she says softly, “Thank you, but seriously, why are you not at home sleeping?”
I lean back in my chair and stretch my tired legs out in front of me. “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t be here if the roles were reversed, Princess.” Memories of our childhood before her cancer struck flood my mind; Claudia always looked out for me, even though I was the older one. She always went to battle on my behalf. I remind her of the first one that comes to mind. “Remember that time when you were about seven, and you took the blame for me putting that hole in my bedroom wall?”
She takes a sip of water and passes the glass back to me as she smiles recalling the memory. “You mean the time you were practicing your rock star moves on your bed? When you were playing air guitar, jumping around like a dickhead and ended up falling against the wall?”
Chuckling, I nod my head. “Yeah, that time.”
“I remember Dad being so mad with me for days over that.”
“But you wouldn’t let me fess up and admit it was me . . . you always had my back, Princess.”
Fear slices through my chest at the thought of losing her.
I don’t want to contemplate it.
But, fuck . . . stage four cancer.
I push out of the chair and stand, desperate to force these thoughts out of my mind.
She reaches for my hand and I give it to her. Hell, I’d give her anything she wants. It fucking kills me that I can’t give her the one thing she needs. “Jett.” Her voice is so soft . . . so kind. Jesus, it’s full of compassion when she shouldn’t be the one giving it. “Look at me, Jett,” she begs, and I give her that, too. It’s dark in her room but there’s a sliver of light falling through the curtain and I can see the sorrow she’s feeling. “I’m sorry.”
Her words threaten to rip my heart out and I struggle for breath. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” My throat dries up and I have to force the words out, but she needs to know the last thing any of us expect is a ‘sorry’.
“I didn’t know . . . there were no symptoms . . .” Her chest heaves and her voice cracks as she begins to cry.
I drop my knees to the floor and kneel next to her so our eyes are level. Taking a firm hold of her hand, I say, “You don’t have to explain any of that. This is not your fault and I never want to hear you say that again.”
Tears flow down her cheek as she stares at me, taking in everything I’ve said. “Okay,” she whispers as she tries to wipe the tears away. When she gets herself together, she says, “I like Presley. You did good, big brother.”
I nod. I don’t want to discuss this because I know why she’s bringing it up, and I fight it by changing the subject. “Did you manage to catch up on your studies?”
She frowns. “Why are you asking me that?”
“Because I’m interested to know.”
“No.”
“You didn’t catch up?”
Her voice takes on an angry tone and she lashes out a little. “No, that’s not why you asked me that. You’re avoiding talking to me about Presley.”
“No, I’m not,” I lie.
“Jett! I’m fucking dying and I want to talk to you about your girlfriend, not about my goddamn studies. I want to talk about the fact you’ve finally found someone to love, and I want to tell you not to screw that up.” Even she seems surprised by her outburst as we lock gazes and process her words. She takes a breath and adds softly, “I need to know you’re going to be okay without me looking out for you. I need to know you’re going to let Presley take my place now.”
I glare at her. I hate those words. “No one can ever take your place,” I force out with distaste.
“I know, but you need to let someone in; you need to show someone that amazing heart of yours, and I’m hoping Presley’s the one.”
Fear rushes through me.
I can’t do this without her.
I can’t lose her.
My heart thumps in my chest and my head roars with panic. I gulp back the bile rising up my throat and grip her hand harder. “I’ve let her in.” They’re the only words I can manage, but Claudia knows the tracks of my heart like the tracks of her own heart, and she’ll understand the significance of those four words. She’ll know the thousands of words I have to describe my feelings for Presley that I can’t say out loud.
We’re both silent for a beat.
Watching.
Knowing.
Silently battling the devastation of this disease. The devastation it hurls at everyone it touches and then leaves behind in its wake as it moves on to break another family. It’s like a fucking bushfire blazing a trail of pain through the lives of everyone it touches. And when it’s done, there’s nothing but ashes of heartache and suffering. And loss.
“I know you’re going to shut down when . . . when this is done, but you have to promise me you won’t do that. You’re so damn scared of losing people that you keep them at a distance, and I hate that for you,” she says, her eyes pleading with mine.
The fury I have at the cancer takes over and spills onto my words. “I hate that I have to lose someone in all of this. I fucking hate that cancer has the power to rip you from my life . . . from your life.” I stop talking, wanting to take back everything I let fall out. And then I expel the breath trapped in my lungs and explode. “Fuck!” I push up off my knees and pace the room, rubbing the back of my neck.
My thoughts are a fucked up mess of chaos and I can’t think straight. A headache begins to pound through my head and my mouth goes dry. I need to get the fuck out of here but I refuse to do that to Claudia.
Her coughing breaks through my consciousness and I turn to see if she’s okay. What began as a few coughs turns into a coughing fit and she fights to get her breath back so I sit next to her on the bed and rub her back, whispering, “Shhh, shhh,” over and over as if it will help. As if it will make a fucking difference when I know nothing will make a difference.
“You’ve been an amazing brother,” she whispers once her coughing resides.
And there it is.
We’re already talking in past tense.
My body sags.
Cancer: 1, The Vaughns: 0
&nb
sp; 31
Jett
“Jett, wake up.”
My mother’s voice cuts through my sleep and I slowly open my eyes. When I come to, the pain radiating down my neck and back makes itself known and I mutter an obscenity as I straighten. “What time is it?” I ask.
“Just after eight.”
“You’ve been snoring for the last hour so I didn’t want to wake you,” Claudia says.
I shift my gaze to her. She’s sitting up, but doesn’t look any better than she did yesterday. In fact, she looks worse if anything. Frowning, I enquire, “How are you feeling?”
She shrugs and avoids my eyes. “I’m okay,” she murmurs, but I’m not buying it. However, I choose not to pursue it with her; if this is how she wants to cope with what’s happening, I can’t fault her. I’d want to avoid it, too.
Mum nudges my foot and I switch my attention back to her. “You should go home for awhile. I’m going to stay until lunch and then your father is coming for the afternoon.”
I nod as I stand and stretch. “Yeah, I’ve gotta touch base with the boys and Tom.”
“What’s happening with your album?” Claudia asks.
“Van and I decided to put it on hold for the moment.”
Her brows rise. “Are you two getting along any better?”
I pick up the keys for Presley’s car and shove my phone in my pocket, getting ready to leave. “I don’t know. He gets this and is being supportive, so I guess so, but who knows what’s going on in that head of his.”
She tries to laugh but it turns into a cough. Her hand moves to her chest while she coughs and then she says, “There’s too much going on in that head of his. That’s the problem.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” I step forward so I can place a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll see you later, Princess.”
A smile graces her lips and she nods. Waving me away, she says, “I’ll be here.”