by Chelle Bliss
imagined him. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Cal.” He places me on the bed, and I curl into a ball to avoid his gaze.
“I just want to be alone.” I close my eyes and pray for death.
The bed shifts from his weight and I roll toward him. “You can’t do this alone.” He moves a strand of hair away from my face, running his fingers down my cheek. “Everyone needs someone.”
I bury my face in the cool sheets and sigh. “I don’t need anyone. I just need to be alone.” I can hear the strain in my voice, how it wavers when I speak.
“Go to sleep,” he insists, rising from the bed and turning off the light. “I’ll be just outside if you need me.”
Did he not hear me, or is he just ignoring me? When someone, especially me, says I want to be alone, I mean it. It’s not a cry for help or a lie said in jest. I just want to be by myself. “Go.”
I hear his heavy footsteps move across the room before the door closes behind him. I wait for the front door to open, but I hear nothing. Maybe if I fall asleep, I’ll feel better, more like myself, and be able to fight him off. Maybe even push him out the door. I snort at the thought. I just need to close my eyes and sleep.
“He’s no one,” I whisper into my pillow before I drift off to dreams of Bruno and a time I didn’t have cancer.
9
Wishing for…
I blink a couple of times, trying to clear the sleep from my system and fail. My mouth feels like I’ve been sucking on a tin can mixed with vomit. Holding my breath, I listen and wait to hear him, but there’s nothing. So, closing my eyes, I fall back asleep.
Hours later and in darkness, I wake to the sound of two voices talking loudly. I can easily make out Bruno’s voice, but the woman’s I don’t know. It isn’t Rebecca.
Who the hell is in my apartment?
They’re arguing.
“Stop,” she warns.
My eyes widen at her tone toward Bruno. Who would have the balls to talk to him like that? I mean, the guy has the nickname “The Butcher,” after all.
“Angelique, don’t tell me what to do!”
Uh-oh. Is she his girlfriend? Who the fuck is Angelique, and why is she in my apartment?
“You probably woke her, you idiot.”
If I had the strength, I’d crawl to the door and peek. Instead, I kick off the covers and try to cool my body. I still when I hear footsteps outside my door, and I hold my breath again.
When the door opens, I pretend to be asleep. Not only do I not want him in my place, but I also don’t want her here either.
“She’s still sleeping,” he whispers, and the door creaks when he begins to close it.
“Let me see her,” she tells him, light creeping into the room.
See me? Why?
“Poor thing,” she whispers, standing in the doorway, her shadow projecting on the wall. Even though I want to see her, I won’t let curiosity get the better of me, so I stay still and don’t roll toward them.
“How well do you know her?”
“I’ve known her for years, but we’ve never been close.” Technically, he’s right, but there is so much wrong with that statement I would laugh if it wouldn’t blow my cover.
“Does she know about you?”
That statement piques my interest. Did she mean “Does she know you’re a criminal?” Because the answer would be yes. Who doesn’t?
“No.”
I don’t? Everyone does. Everyone in town knows Bruno. If they don’t know, then they are a fool.
“Good.”
The door closes, and when I’m certain they are far enough away, I sit up. What don’t I know about him? For a second, I forget about my stomach churning and my mouth tasting like ass and try to figure out what I don’t know.
My knowledge of Bruno is limited. From the few short conversations we’ve had, I know he doesn’t have a “regular” job. Everyone knows him, though, especially the shady characters in town. I always assumed he was an assassin like something out of the movies. But could someone like that take care of me the way he’s been? It just doesn’t make sense. I never bothered to ask questions about him. Who would I ask? Plus, I didn’t want word to get back to him that I’d been curious about his “job.” Becca and I would always make up crazy stories about Bruno and his work. But neither of us ever had the balls to ask him exactly what he did. Now, I have more questions that I ever did before.
Slowly, I slide off the bed and start to crawl toward the bathroom for a much-needed glass of water. It’s not even graceful enough to be considered a crawl; I inch like a worm, slow and low. Just as I have one hand inside the bathroom doorway, my bedroom door opens and Bruno walks in.
“She’s awake!” he yells out, and I flinch from the volume. “Why didn’t you call for me?”
I close my eyes, sprawling out on the floor because I know he’s going to carry me. “Please.” The single word isn’t a plea for help, but me begging him to go.
His hands slide under my body and he lifts me. “Do you have to go?”
If I didn’t want to die before, I sure as fuck do now. “No. Water.” I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, letting it stick from the dryness.
“You need something to eat too.” He places me back on the bed, making sure my head rests against the pillow. “Did you want to sit up?”
“I can do it,” I tell him, swatting his hands away before pushing myself up, barely making it without tipping over.
Bruno looks over his shoulder toward the hallway. “Lee!” he yells before looking back to me. “Can you bring some water and crackers for Callie?”
“I can take care of myself. I just need you and Lee,” I say in a snotty tone, “to leave.”
“Not happening.” He shakes his head and narrows his eyes. “Your attitude doesn’t scare me, and you get no say in this.”
“What?” I ask and try not to yell.
“Here we are.” Lee walks in with a glass of water and a sleeve of saltines. She’s stunning. Her hair rolls off her shoulders in dark waves of caramel and rests just above her breasts. Her large brown eyes sit above her perfectly round cheeks and her pert little nose. The woman could easily be a model with her exotic looks and perfect body. I instantly hate her.
“Thanks, love.” Bruno smirks at her before taking the water and crackers from her hands. “Cal, this is my sister, Lee.”
Oh.
“Hi.” She gives me a small wave.
I’m an asshole.
“Hi,” I reply, but I don’t smile back.
“It’s important that you eat something. Your body needs calories. Damn,” she hisses and snaps her fingers. “I meant to bring the ginger snaps.”
“What?” Bruno’s eyebrows draw together before he looks at her.
“Ginger is good for an upset stomach. I have a bag of Susansnaps at home I wanted to bring.”
“Susansnaps?” Bruno looks at me and rolls his eyes, trying to get me to smile. “Those don’t sound good.”
“Oh my God. They’re the best ginger cookies. It’s a long story. I’ll save it for another day.” She sits down and watches me with the same set of dark eyes as him.
“Why are you both here?” I ask before I grab the glass of water from his hand.
“Bruno called me. He told me what you’re going through. I wanted to be here with you. I wish I’d had someone who knew what I was going through when I started chemo.” It starts to click. I forgot that his sister had cancer and she was a survivor. I gulp down the entire glass while she speaks. “I thought you could use someone.”
The empty glass rests in my lap and I look back and forth between them, noticing the similarities. “I really just want to be alone. I don’t mean to be rude or anything.”
“I get it.” She touches my foot lightly.
Bruno pins me with his eyes as he takes the glass from my hand and sets it on the nightstand. “I don’t.”
“Love.” She touches his arm and motions toward the door with he
r head. “Can I talk with Callie a bit, alone?”
“I’ll be right outside the door if you need me,” he tells me and squeezes my hand.
“Great,” I mutter and know it’s not lost on him.
“Five minutes, Lee. She needs her rest.”
“Yes, Nurse Bruno.” Lee giggles and rolls her eyes behind him. She sits at the end of the bed, waiting for him to close the door. As soon as his footsteps dissipate, she begins to speak. “I won’t stay long. I just wanted to chat for a few.”
“Okay.” I pull the blankets up, using them as protection of some sort for unknown reasons.
She holds out her hand and points at the spot next to me. “Can I move closer?”
“Sure.” No one listens to me anyway, so why fight a losing battle?
“I know you want to be alone and I’ll make sure you get your space, but I need you to listen to me first.”
I nod because she’s been where I am, and she has knowledge I don’t. Plus, there’s the fact she could get Bruno to go away just as I wanted.
“Five years ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was the most horrifying moment of my entire life.” She touches my hand and I don’t pull away. “All I could think about was dying. I had my life over before the doctors did. I thought they were full of shit, spoon-feeding me happiness to keep me alive.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. I am exactly in that spot.
“I shut everyone out of my life. Everyone. My husband, now ex. My parents. Bruno. You name ’em, I didn’t want to see their faces. I couldn’t take how they looked at me.”
She understands me completely.
“It took me a long time to get pissed enough to fight, but you have to get there. Don’t kill yourself off before you have a chance to survive.”
“I’m trying.”
“Even if no one is here with you, you have to eat and stay hydrated. Understand?” I nod and she continues. “Chemo is the worst, but it is helping.”
“I know.”
Her thumb strokes the top of my hand as if trying to soothe me. “Do you know how it works?”
“I do. I work in cancer research. I’m very familiar with its effects.”
“Interesting,” she says, but I don’t bother to ask why. “Eventually, I broke down and started letting people help. Bruno was the best, actually. He never looked at me as if I was sick or dying. He stepped in and nursed me back to health.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” She has a gleam in her eyes. “He’s amazing like that. When I didn’t have the strength to even walk, he carried me. I don’t think I would’ve made it through everything without him.”
“I didn’t ask for his help, though. We barely know each other.”
The smile on her face vanishes. “You don’t?”
“I mean, we know each other, but we didn’t know each other.”
“Well.” She pats me softly. “For some reason, Bruno has taken to you. He’s not going to turn his back on you now. Just let him be your strength when you don’t have any left.”
“Why?”
“Because life is too precious to give up.”
I shake my head because I know that. “I mean, why him?”
“He’s not what everyone thinks, Callie.” She sighs and closes her eyes.
“I don’t know anything about him,” I tell her truthfully. An hour ago, I had one opinion of him, but now, everything had changed.
“I know what people say about him.” Her nose wrinkles and her eyes shift. “That’s not him.”
Um, I think it’s pretty obvious what he is or at least how he is. Clearly, being his sister has clouded her judgment.
“I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong.”
“Okay.” I don’t have much to say because I know I’m not going to win the argument.
“I’m going to leave you my number in case you need an ear. It’s better to talk to someone who’s gone through it. No one else will understand.”
“Thanks.” My smile’s genuine for once.
“Just let him help when you need it.”
“I just need rest right now. You think you can take him with you?”
She laughs. “I’ll make him leave with me.”
“Thanks.” My smile grows wider. Maybe Lee isn’t so bad, after all.
“Anytime. Do you need anything before we leave?”
“Can you shut the blinds?” It’s entirely too bright in here for me to fall back into my semi-comatose sleep.
“You got it.” She winks at me before walking to the windows and darkening the room. “Don’t forget to call me, okay?” she asks from the doorway.
“Promise,” I lie before she closes the door.
I sink down into the bed and shut my eyes.
“I can’t just leave,” Bruno growls before the knob starts to move.
“Bruno,” Lee warns softly. “She needs space. Give it to her.”
“Lee, you saw her. She can’t even walk.”
“She’s going to sleep. She needs her rest.”
“But—”
“Bruno.”
“Fine. Let me see if she needs anything.”
“She doesn’t. I asked her.”
“It’s not right, Lee.”
“Stop being your controlling self. The girl has said her peace. Now, let’s go.”
“Fine, but I’m coming back.”
For the love of God. The man sure doesn’t give up easy. At least, I have a few hours to myself.
I listen until they both walk out and someone, probably Bruno, locks the door. Does he have a key? It doesn’t matter. A guy like him doesn’t need one. He’s already proved that.
I lie there for a few minutes until I give up on sleep. I check my email, wondering what I’ve missed at the lab and feeling guilty about not being there.
The only message I’ve received is from my boss, accepting my leave of absence and giving me well-wishes on my “battle.” Lucky for me, I haven’t taken a sick day since I started, so I’ll continue to get a paycheck for at least for the next month and a half. Hopefully, by the time I run out, I’ll be well enough to return to work and more than ready to put cancer behind me.
Wait. Was that me being optimistic?
I feel better after chomping on a few crackers, but my mouth feels drier than before and still has the same metallic taste. I need something more than water; something with flavor, like juice.
After I grab a bottle of juice from the fridge, I prop myself against a cabinet and rest. If I knew going through this hell would cure me, I’d do it with my head held high and a smile on my face. But knowing that I could still die after all the suffering makes it harder to swallow.