Weakness

by Shelley Michaels

  WEAKNESS

  By

  Shelley Michaels

  Text copyright  2017 Shelley Michaels

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for purchasing ‘Weakness’ I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you could spare a few minutes, please leave a review to share your opinion.

  All of my books are standalone as I believe in giving my readers the full story and not ask them to pay again to find out the ending, although I do enjoy spinning off my favourite characters to a story of their very own.

  Therefore, please see below for a list of books in ‘The London Girl’ series, which can be read in any order.

  Protected – The story of Nate and Sophie

  https://www.amazon.com/Protected-Shelley-Michaels-ebook/dp/B01M14WG1N/

  Believe – The story of Kyle and Shauna

  https://www.amazon.com/Believe-Shelley-Michaels-ebook/dp/B06XRNSHD9/

  Weakness – The story of Ben and Sasha.

  Please feel free to contact me on Facebook or Twitter (shelley1903) with feedback, or for news on upcoming books.

  Or, email me on - shelleymichael@outlook.com

  Shelley xxx

  Chapter One

  My face splits to a grin at the first familiar face that I see as I walk through the arrivals hall of Denver International Airport. I don’t allow my mind to dwell on the reason for my impromptu visit and instead concentrate on the fact that I haven’t seen my sister since last Christmas. I try to swallow down the emotion that is rising to my throat but can't stop my eyes from burning with the tears that are threatening. It isn't until I get nearer to her that I see Lydia is fighting the same battle, her eyes glistening with unshed emotion.

  ‘Hey, baby sis,’ she calls, her voice hitching slightly. She opens her arms, and I walk straight into them, crushing her to me. A sound escapes my throat, a subdued sob as I try to control my emotions.

  ‘Hey Liddy,’ I squeak.

  ‘Good to see you, girl,’ she pulls away slightly, but I cling on tight, and she laughs. ‘I need to breathe, Sash,’ she complains, but I feel her hold back on just as tight.

  I reluctantly let her go and take a proper look at her to find she looks surprisingly well. Although Lydia is only two years my senior, she was born with a wise old head on her shoulders, which makes her seem even older than her thirty-three years. I look closer and notice the dark bags under her eyes, and the standard brightness of her hazel eyes dimmed.

  ‘How are you holding up, Honey-bee?’ I ask, softly, using my childhood pet name for her.

  ‘I’m gonna fight, Waspy,’ she swears, the tears re-building in her eyes betraying the determination of her tone. That was us, Liddy was soft and full of honey; hence the nickname and I buzzed around and stung anyone that crossed me. Waspy.

  ‘Too right you’re gonna fight,’ I scoff, ‘and I am here to lighten the load to enable you to do just that,’ I declared, stubbornly. I sling my arm around my sister's slim shoulders as we make our way towards the car park.

  I straight away am feeling so much better by just being in the same country and breathing the same air as my big sister than I did from London, thousands of miles away knowing she was battling breast cancer. I wasn’t just here for Lydia. I was also here for me because I knew my life would be meaningless if I didn’t have her in it. It didn’t matter that we were miles apart, we were as tight as two sisters could be.

  ‘I appreciate this, Sash. I can’t believe you have just upped and left everything at home and flown halfway across the world to be with me,’ she wipes the tears that have somehow managed to escape the corners of her pretty eyes.

  I squeeze her tightly to me as if to enforce my response. ‘Where else would I be, Liddy?’ I whisper to her. She drops her head sideways to lean her head against mine, and we walk to the car in a silence that speaks volumes.

  If you looked on at the two of us, it wasn’t immediately apparent we were sisters. We did share the same dark curly hair, although mine had tighter curls and I wore it longer, Lydia chopped hers off to shoulder-length when she had her kids, complaining that it was too high maintenance. Apart from that, we were very different, my eyes were chocolate brown to her hazel, and just like our mum, Lydia was small and curvy and stood at five feet three. I was taller at five feet six, just like our dad, who was over six feet in height with long dangly legs.

  Although I was slimmer and taller, I still had the generous bust of our mum, which Lydia always wanted. Mum blamed our grandma, who was apparently incredibly well-endowed in the boob department.

  ‘How are the kidney winks?’ I asked, climbing into the red truck that Lydia loved so much.

  ‘Bouncing off the walls that you are coming over,’ she smiles, at the same time as rolling her eyes.

  I grin, ‘I can’t wait to see the little munchkins.’ I turn to face my sister as she edges out of the parking bay. ‘How much do they know?’

  She glances towards me, ‘as much as they need, they know mummy is poorly and that their Aunty Sasha is coming over to help take care of things. We decided we would address things as they arose rather than bombard them with information that won’t penetrate. Blake is being his usual sensitive self and assures me he will help,’ she grins in memory of her seven-year-old first born.

  ‘Kristen?’ I ask.

  Lydia shakes her head as she thinks of her baby girl, ‘she’s in her own world, Kristen is five for fuck sake, she doesn’t have a clue.’ We pull out of the underground car park, and she continues. ‘Mind you, I’m glad. She shouldn’t have to face this sort of drama. She’s just a baby.’

  ‘And Cam?’ I ask, knowing how much my brother-in-law idolises my sister.

  ‘Falling apart,’ she murmurs, quietly.

  I inhale a deep breath, to stop myself from crying at the possible scenarios that must be flittering through his mind, ‘he’ll be okay,’ I assured her softly, but I know that Lydia and the kids are his life. If anything happened to Lydia, which god forbid it ever did, he wouldn’t cope, I know this, and she knows it too. We drive in silence for a few minutes as we both consider the situation.

  ‘Cam has spoken to Ben, and arranged for you to do some casual work at his bar,’ Liddy changes the subject, her teeth biting her bottom lip in worry. ‘He’s so supportive to Cam,’ her voice sounded wobbly, and my stomach squeezes.

  ‘That’s good, Liddy,’ I soothe, ‘everybody needs somebody.’

  She nods, ‘he says you can do whatever hours you need,’ Lydia states. ‘Although, you know you don’t have to, Cam will cover you while you are here…’ She begins. We have had this very same conversation for the past two weeks, and I use the word conversation loosely, what I really mean is an argument.

  Ben was a military pal of Lydia’s husband Cam, who owned a club in the Denver area. I had only met him once, and that was during a video call to Lydia, a few months ago when he had arrived at the house for dinner with her and
her family. He was undoubtedly H-O-T, yes in capital letters, but having heard a vast number of stories about Ben and quite a few female companions he had on a regular basis, I tried not to take too much notice.

  Apparently, he had this strong silent alpha male thing going on, which caused women to climb over each other in an attempt to catch his attention. She also mentioned how he dropped them as quick as he found them. In short, he was a man-whore.

  Lydia maintained that she knew he would settle down when the right person came along, Cam had disagreed and stated that Ben had no intention of settling down, like ever! My guess is Cam knew him better.

  I remember how he had flicked a couple of fingers distractedly in my direction in greeting, when Lydia had introduced us during our video chat, before immediately disappearing from out of sight. I had called out Hey and told Liddy I would call her another time and ended the call.

  The only thing that stuck in my mind from the short glimpse I got of him, was that he was incredibly handsome in a mean and moody kind of way. He had thick dark hair and piercing blue eyes that were expressionless and serious as they glanced fleetingly in my direction. But, it was the size and breadth of his shoulders that took my attention more than his features, they were the size of a house, or so it looked on the screen of my laptop.

  ‘That’s good of Ben,’ I mention to Liddy, ‘you know I need to earn some money while I am here, Lydia,’ I call to her calmly. ‘We agreed I would come over and live rent free but would earn my own money to live on,’ I reminded her.

  ‘But you are here to help us, the least we can do is take care of you while you do it,’ she replays the same tune she has been singing for the duration of the debate.

  ‘Lydia, you are my sister, and I love you, but this is what needs to happen,’ I insist, stubbornly.

  She sighs, she knows she has lost this particular battle. ‘Okay, Sasha.’

  ********

  The kids had grown immensely since I last saw them, almost nine months ago. To look at Blake was just like looking at a mini-Cam, but personality wise, he was all Lydia with his seriousness and wisdom. He had the dark hair of his mum and me, but the violet-blue eyes of his dad. He had also adopted the strong sense of duty that Cam held, probably aided by the discipline of the military. His room was immaculate, and he mostly did what he was told, well at least on the second call. However, Kristen had light brown hair like her dad but had the hazel eyes of her mum and the temperament like mine. Her room looked like a tornado had hit, twice, and she rarely did anything told. She had sass, which to watch as an aunt was hilarious, but as a parent not so funny, I imagine.

  I fought back the jet-lag long enough to hug the kids, shower them with presents from London, and help in the bedtime routine of bathing and reading stories until they finally dropped off at a later than usual time of nine o’clock. Only then did I hug my brother-in-law and accept the glass of wine that he poured for Liddy and me, before sitting down to discuss the upcoming surgery and treatment.

  Cam had set out a schedule in pure Cam-style with the children’s routine and his shifts. After retiring from the military, Cam had taken only a couple of months to decide he wanted to work in law enforcement. The children were babies, and Cam had agreed to dedicate his life to making the world a safer place for them to live. Cam's schedule was more complicated than the usual nine til five as he took on both day and night shifts throughout the week. Although, this gave him the advantage of getting clusters of days off in a row and meant he could attend hospital visits with Liddy. We had agreed that when he was at home at nights, he would take care of the children and I could help out at Ben’s bar, to not only earn some pocket money but also to escape the intensity of helping to care for a cancer patient.

  The first stage of my sister’s treatment was surgery. She was having a full mastectomy and reconstruction before recovering and then undergoing six weeks of precautionary sessions of chemotherapy. It was going to be hard going and emotional, but I knew I had to be strong for her, and her family.

  Finally, at ten-thirty, I could contain the yawns no longer, they were coming out one after the other, and my eyelids were drooping in the middle of Cam talking.

  ‘Go to bed, Sasha,’ Cam interrupted my head nodding. ‘We can talk some more tomorrow. I told Ben you would drop in to introduce yourself and get a feel for the place on Sunday if that is okay. That way you have two days to recover from the journey before you throw yourself into the craziness that is my family and will be ready for Tuesday’s schedule.’

  Tuesday was D-day, Lydia’s operation. Cam was working fully between now and Tuesday, and then had the rest of the week off to be there for his wife before having to return to work on the following Saturday for his weekend shift. I was taking full control of the kid's needs while he was in the hospital.

  ‘Okay,’ I hugged them both to me before forcing my limbs to take me to the spare room at the back of the house, which was going to be home for the next few months. It was an office, but in preparation for my arrival, the desk was in the garage and a small double bed put in its place with a tiny chest and a little hanging rail. Cam had given it a fresh coat of cream paint, and recent photos hung randomly around the room reminding me I was among family.

  Cam had apologised for it not being very spacious, but I had insisted it was more than enough to put my tired head down at the end of the day. I was also impressed by the view from the back of the house, as it gave you an exciting glimpse of the faraway mountains.

  I think I was asleep before my body even hit the soft mattress, which prevented me from fretting over the coming weeks or months, my body too tired to bring up the possible outcomes, my mind drained by all the thinking it had been doing since Cam called me at home, not two weeks ago. That’s what it had taken, two weeks for me to temporarily wrap up my life in London and arrange for a flight to Denver.

  When I had first received the news that my sister had a diagnosis of breast cancer, my world had almost collapsed. We were all we had. There was no mum, no dad, no other siblings – just me and Liddy. Dad had died of a heart attack when I was eight and Liddy was ten. That was the day the roles reversed and both Liddy, and I became the parents of the family.

  Mum fell apart in a way we knew she would never recover. She never did. That was also the day I decided that no man would ever have a hold on me enough that I wouldn’t be able to function without him. It was a fact of life that bad things happened to good people, my dad died, and that was horrendous to experience, but people took time to grieve and move on with their lives. Some people felt it harder than others, some people never got over it, but they went through the motions and carried on best they could.

  What kind of woman gives up on her children, no matter what cruel blow life offers?

  In the end, mum drank herself to death. They said she died of a broken heart – we knew different, we were the ones that put her to the bed at night and cleaned up the mess she made during the process. I was sixteen when she quit bothering to breath in and out and allowed herself to wallow into death. Thank god that Liddy was eighteen, and able to take control of the house that was mercifully paid for, thanks to dad’s life insurance.

  Maybe that’s why I went into nursing. I had been taking care of mum for what seemed like my whole life, and I found it a breeze after the things I was forced to do at home, duties no child should ever have to perform on anyone, least of all a parent.

  When I wake in the morning, it’s to my niece and nephew jumping on my bed and joyfully yelling at me to get up. I smile, my croaky voice giggling at my niece’s frantic demand that I need to get up as mum is making pancakes, and I don’t want to miss mum’s pancakes, they are the best. I climb out of bed, my stomach rumbling reminding me that one of the great things Americans do is breakfast, and follow the excitable children into the kitchen.

  As a bystander, watching us all enjoying breakfast, laughing and cuddling the kids, you would never know that life had dealt one of its cruellest blows
on our perfect family. As I observed my surroundings, I knew that this was how the family were supposed to cope with tragedy, disaster pulls a real family together, something my mum had never grasped. We were all grieving for dad, but she hadn’t given us one ounce of empathy or understanding, thinking of only her own narcissistic emotions.

  I smile over to Liddy, who apparently witnessed my reflective moment. I watch her wink as if she caught my train of thought and her lips curved into an affectionate smile. I return a small smile, and she mouths I love you, my chest aches with the depth of love I feel for this household, and the tears begin to form behind my eyes forcing me to swallow down the lump that is growing in my throat. She shakes her head just enough to remind me that I need to keep a hold on it.

  ‘Right! What’s on today’s agenda?’ I ask the kids, only the quivering of my voice betraying the emotion that is weighing me down.

  ‘Ice cream parlour!’ Kristen shouts, loudly.

  ‘You can’t be hungry,’ I astound, ‘you still have syrup around your mouth, from breakfast!’ She giggles and wipes the back of her hand across her sticky lips. ‘Come on, let’s get you washed and dressed,’ I catch a flying Kristen as she launches herself towards me from the chair without warning and giggles all the way to the bathroom.

  ********

  Chapter Two

  Walking into Honour, which is the name of Ben’s club, I feel butterflies fluttering deep in the pit of my stomach. I have taken on plenty of bar work in my life, while studying for my nurse’s degree, but doing it without a friendly or familiar face present, plus not being in my home country has pushed me way out of my comfort zone.

  When I worked in the bars of London, my friends and fellow-students would pass by and sit and drink while I worked and I’d stop periodically to chat with them making the whole thing an entirely social experience. Here, I am a stranger in a strange country, I don’t have a familiar face in sight, and maybe because of the events that are going on around me, I am feeling incredibly vulnerable.