One Final Breath

by LK Collins

  Copyright © 2017 LK Collins

  Cover Design by Prezidential Visions

  Edited by Lisa Christman, Adept Edits

  Proofread by Leticia Sidon and Janice Owen

  Photography by Andriy Bezuglov

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  To anyone who has loved and lost, may you find your own happily ever after.

  Prologue

  Faye

  Holding on to my husband, Ben’s, hand, it’s so thin and fragile; in one short month, his strong muscularity is a distant recollection of the man he was. The man I married who promised me forever is being robbed of the future he deserved. The color in his face has changed in the last few hours. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, his breathing has slowed. It won’t be long now until he’s gone.

  Our son, Braxley, is wrapped up in a ball tucked beside him. I’m not sure if letting Braxley lie with his dad is the right thing to do, but in these situations, there are no rulebooks. Our son wanted to sleep next to his dad, who am I to tell him he can’t? This is the last shred of physical comfort he can draw from his dad, and he should have it. Hell, I’m two seconds from crawling in next to them. I really don’t know why I haven’t.

  “I love you, Ben,” I whisper, doing my best to stay strong, just like I promised him I would, and hope even though he’s no longer conscious he can still hear me. “I love you more than anything,” I whisper and choke back the tears.

  He doesn’t move or respond, just slow, shallow breaths. His light blond hair is messy the way it always is, and it reminds me of the day we met at the beach off the coast of Seattle where we live. His eyes connected to mine and before we even spoke a word to each other, he owned me. It was a true case of love at first sight. I was his, and a few months later we married. That day seems so far away now; if only we could go back to that time.

  Ben’s illness hit him quick and completely out of the blue. He was fine one day, healthy and strong, then the next he was in the hospital, going through chemo and radiation in hopes of stopping the growth of the tumors that were attacking him from the inside out.

  His body couldn’t even tolerate the first round of treatment, and we were thunderstruck by the reality that we were already out of options. The cancer had spread to his bone marrow, he wasn’t a candidate for a stem cell transplant, and he spiraled downward right before our very eyes. Each day made him weaker as the cancer claimed more territory. We scrambled to complete everything we could on his bucket list, while internally I tried to fight off the inevitability of his death, just to get me through the days. Looking at the one-page list he made of the things he wanted to do, it saddens me that I was not able to fulfill all of his wishes. A part of me feels as if I failed him.

  Rhonda, his nurse, comes into our bedroom to do her usual check-up and exhales a deep, long breath after only listening to his heart for a few seconds. “It won’t be long now, Faye.”

  I nod, the tears breaking free, and I know Ben hates it when I cry. He told me he’s not afraid of dying; he’s okay letting go, he’s only afraid to leave Braxley and I. Not able to resist the urge to be close to him for one more second, I lie down along Ben’s side, able to see Braxley sleeping across Ben’s emaciated chest. I cup Ben’s beloved, familiar face. He’s cold. Jesus, he’s so cold.

  Pulling back, I take a good look at him and can tell it’s happening. “Noooooo,” I wail into his neck, holding on to him tighter than ever, breathing in his scent that I love. No amount of time could ever prepare me for this moment, and even now I pray for a miracle, for something to happen to not take him from us, not yet. “Don’t go, baby.” I go against every promise I made him about letting him go peacefully and beg him to stay. He gasps for air, and as I look at his face, one single tear rolls down his cheek, followed by his one final breath.

  I shake my head, not wanting it to be true. “Oh, God,” I cry out into the palm of my hand, staring at him, waiting for him to breathe again for what feels like an hour, but it never happens, and oh my God…it never will.

  Touching our lips together, I kiss him and breathe him in one last time. My hand moves to Braxley not wanting him to wake and see his dad like this. I only want him to remember Ben alive and vibrant, not this way. Letting go of Ben’s hand, I get up and move to the other side of the bed. I find the strength from our little boy and lift him up, cradling his growing five-year-old body tightly against mine as I walk out of the room, leaving half of myself there with my husband, knowing nothing will ever be the same.

  Chapter 1

  Faye

  I wake gasping for air at 1:01am. That is the same time that Ben passed away over a year ago, and even though so much time has passed, nothing seems to be any easier.

  In fact, each day is just as hard as the last. I’m constantly reminded of the memories and the time we shared. Looking back, when Ben was still alive, I’d hoped I could’ve found comfort in those memories, but I haven’t and fear I never will.

  Every street I drive down reminds me of him, every song that comes on the radio, every blond-haired guy I see—it’s all a reminder of the man I lost, my husband, my one and only.

  I often wonder why God takes certain people. Why not me? Why him? I would’ve switched places with him in a heartbeat. But that’s not the way things work in this world, and we all know that. As fucked up as situations can be, sometimes you’re stuck with no way out.

  Getting out of bed, I look over at Ben’s side. My chest tightens imagining him taking his final breath right there. Knowing my mind will not stop running, I get up and check on Braxley to be sure that he’s sound asleep and safe. Lately, I’ve become obsessed with checking on him, and I think it’s because I’m scared that I’ll lose him too. Thinking of it gives me the chills. Without Braxley I don’t know what would happen to me. Bile rises to the back of my throat; that overbearing motherly instinct is so strong, I’m not sure how to control it, and I don’t think I should.r />
  Closing the door to his bright blue room that we painted as a family, I head down to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine. The reflection of the moonlight glimmers on the pool in our backyard.

  I can still picture Ben and Braxley, playing out in the water and me floating in my lounge chair, which now sits empty atop the glassy water. I haven’t been able to bring myself to swim since Ben passed. Braxley still swims, though, and I’m grateful that he’s young enough to not understand the true pain of death and how he’ll never see his father again.

  I wish I could say the same for myself, but I can’t. I’ll always remember the moment I lost Ben and the month leading up to it.

  Heading into the living room, my feet pad quietly against the rough wood floors, yet another reminder of Ben. He planned on sanding and refinishing them…but like so many things, he never got the chance.

  I lie down on the couch, sipping my wine, and close my eyes, searching for some peace and quiet from the constant torment that my brain is putting me through. But all I can see is Ben, struggling, the lines of pain etched into his face, and then that one final breath of air he took before he left me.

  I sob, covering my mouth, and hope one day I’ll find a tiny amount of relief from the torment that surrounds me.

  ***

  “Mommy,” Braxley says, nudging my shoulder, waking me up.

  “Yeah, baby?” I blink heavily, looking into his dark innocent eyes, the same eyes of his father.

  “I’m hungry.”

  “Okay.” In a groggy fog, I get up and follow him into the kitchen, but I’m still so happy to see him. I only fell asleep a few hours ago, and anymore I’m only functioning off a few snatched moments of sleep.

  Braxley hops up on a stool at the bar, his short legs dangling over the edge, as I look into the fridge. “What do you feel like eating?” I ask him.

  “I don’t care,” he says.

  Of course, he doesn’t. He’s the easiest kid in the world when it comes to eating. “How about lasagna?” I suggest playfully with a waggle of my eyebrows, pulling out a container of leftovers that my mom brought us. His lips pull up into a huge grin, his smile the only thing that keeps me going anymore. “Okay,” he shrugs his shoulders, and I roll my eyes.

  “Come on, Braxley, I wouldn’t feed you lasagna for breakfast.”

  “I’ll eat it, Mommy.”

  “Do you really want it?” I ask him.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.” I pop it in the microwave and start a pot of coffee.

  “Why did you sleep on the couch?” he asks me.

  “I’m just more comfortable there.”

  “‘Cause Daddy’s not in your bed anymore?”

  “Yes, honey.” I pull out the lasagna and blow on it, then hand it to Braxley. I’m grateful that he’s not bothered by talking about Ben being gone, and I think it’s because he doesn’t really understand that he’ll never see his dad again. Happily, he begins to eat his food with a satisfied expression on his face, and I stand there just watching him.

  Then the doorbell rings, pulling me from my daze, and I walk to the front of our cozy home. As I open it, my mother-in-law gazes back at me and then pulls me into a big hug. “How are you doing, Faye?” she asks me, obviously concerned.

  “I’m okay. What are you doing here, Jan?” I direct her inside, and she follows me in, looking at me intently, studying me like she always does. “You have a therapy session today, remember?” I do, and I totally forgot about it. Even the word “therapy” bothers me, so you can imagine how I feel about having to actually go and talk about my feelings, which never seems to help.

  No matter what I do, I’m still struggling just to get through each moment. “You sure you’re okay?” she asks again, and I nod. Braxley is in the next room, so I’m not about to let him know that I’m upset. Like usual, I quiet her worry and reassure her. “Everything is okay. Come and see your grandson. He’s just eating.”

  As we walk into the kitchen, she rushes to his side, but her excitement changes to alarm when his red marinara-stained face smiles at us. “Grandma!” he exclaims excitedly.

  “What in the world are you eating?”

  “Mommy made me lasagna.”

  “What a strange thing to eat for breakfast.” She gives me a disapproving glare.

  “It’s what he wanted, and he is a growing boy, aren’t ya, baby?” He nods as I rub the top of his soft messy hair. “I’m gonna go get dressed,” I tell them and head upstairs, needing a moment away from her. Her intentions are good, and she really doesn’t mean any harm, but with Jan, it’s her way or—no way.

  Walking into the closet, I keep my eyes on my side and off of Ben’s. I hate looking at all of his clothing. Quickly, I grab a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. After I dress and pull my hair up, I brush my teeth then go back downstairs where I find Jan making Baxley a full course breakfast. The bacon is already sizzling, and I ask her, annoyed because I already fed him, “What are you doing?”

  “Faye, lasagna is nothing to feed a little boy.”

  I kiss Braxley on the top of his head and ignore her comment. I just want to make him happy, and if that means lasagna for breakfast, then so be it. He’ll be okay. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” I tell them and give him a big hug.

  “Bye, Mommy.”

  “You be good for grandma, okay?” he nods, and I kiss Jan on the cheek walking out. “Bye, Faye.”

  I pull my coat on, and the cold air hits me hard. It’s a chilly morning in Seattle, and I’m so looking forward to warmer weather. I check the time. My appointment is at nine, and as much as I don’t want to go, I have to. I promised Ben I would talk about things after he was gone and take care of myself. So I should be right on time. As I drive, I reach for my coffee and realize that I forgot it at the house.

  Instead of going back home, I stop at the local Starbucks. The drive-through line is wrapped around the building as always. Everyone in Seattle needs their fix on this chilly morning, so I head inside, and the noise immediately rings in my ears. It’s loud with all the employees yelling orders over the screaming of milk frothing and groups of people chatting.

  Looking up at the menu like I’m trying to decide what to get, I chuckle to myself and know Ben would laugh too. He always used to tease me and say, “Why do you even look? You know what you’re going to order.” I always get the same thing…and then Ben’s Chai Tea Latte stares back at me from the menu. God, I miss him. I can remember coming here so many times together, and the sudden reminder is a hard blow deep inside my gut. All the air is stripped from my lungs, and I struggle to stand. It’s not like I’d forgotten he was gone, but lately, there have been brief periods of time that pass where the pain lessens until I’m reminded again, and it’s just as strong, the way it was a year ago.

  “Hi, welcome to Starbucks,” a young barista says, “What can I get you?”

  “Uh…I’ll have a grande coffee.”

  “Any room for cream?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, that’s all.”

  “That’ll be two dollars and seventy-three cents.” The baristas pour my coffee, and I reach for my purse, but somehow don’t have it. Searching all of my coat pockets for any form of payment as the employee stares, I’m so embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I forgot my wallet.”

  Then out of the blue, a guy ordering at the register next to me, says, “I can pay for hers.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t have to do that,” I tell him.

  “It’s a few bucks, not a big deal.”

  “Are you sure? I…I can pay you back.”

  “No, pay it forward, buy someone else a cup of coffee another time.”

  The barista tells the other worker to add my coffee under his order, and then I take my cup, feeling guilty for letting a complete stranger pay for me. I’ve been such an airhead since Ben’s been gone. Plus, people don’t do nice things for each other anymore—they just don�
��t, as sad as it is. The guy pays, and I wait for him to finish, feeling like I have to thank him once again. He takes his receipt and then looks down at me, his greenish-brown eyes glimmering in the low lights of the coffee shop as we walk to the end of the line together. “Thank you again,” I tell him. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

  “Sure I did. If I didn’t, then you wouldn’t have a coffee. And that would be a shame.” He smiles, and I study his face, feeling like I’ve seen him before. There is something about him that is so familiar. I pop the top on my coffee adding cream and sugar, and the worker calls out, “Chai tea latte for Thane?” I glance over to see him take the drink into his hand. He winks at me, waiting for me to finish, and I place the lid back on my cup, looking away quickly. What are the odds that he’d order just what Ben would’ve?

  “Thanks again, Thane,” I say, having heard his name from the barista.

  “Of course. By the way, what’s your name?”

  “Faye.” We shake hands, and he holds my hand for longer than any stranger ever has or probably should.

  “That’s a beautiful name.” I smile, and he opens the door as we walk out together, neither saying anything else. But between us, there is a pull, a connection of sorts, and I have no clue why. It’s like Thane has awoken something inside of me that has been asleep for a long time now, and it scares me. I spend every waking moment grieving for Ben. I shouldn’t be feeling this way—it feels like a betrayal—but I can’t stop it.

  Chapter 2

  Thane

  It’s been three days, and I still can’t shake Faye from my mind. I keep picturing her smile and how beautiful she was. For the first time in a long time, I felt a connection. There’s something about her that pulled me towards her, at how real and warm she was. It definitely has me wanting to know more about her.

  “Mrs. Leeper said we would find out what table we are sitting at tonight, Daddy,” my son, Jack, says to me.

  “Will it be for the whole year, buddy?”