“Fuck.”
There’s a knock on the door, and Hunter pokes his head in the door. “Sorry, guys. Daisy, it’s three o’clock.”
My sister nods and jumps up. “Thanks for keeping an eye on the time for me.” She gives Hunter a smile before walking over to me. “I have to pick up the boys from school. But can I ask you to consider this from a different angle? What if you and Chloe were married and were trying to start a family. If you found out then that you weren’t able to conceive naturally, would you leave her?”
“Fuck. No, Daisy. I’m not that kind of man. I wouldn’t—”
I wouldn’t leave her.
Never.
Fuck.
Yet the minute I find out we can’t have kids, I walked out on her. Shit. Shit. Shit. As if she hasn’t lost enough . . . and I walk away.
Maybe she was right to shut us down all those years ago. Because look at how I handled this. And I’m not a fucking kid anymore. I hang my head. Ashamed.
The kindness in Daisy’s eyes suddenly feels like a punch in the face. I’m not sure I deserve it, but she offers it anyway. “But I’m here if you need me, okay? Always.”
I nod.
She wraps her arms around me and squeezes tightly. “You’ve got this. Whatever you decide to do, you’ve got this. I believe in you.”
“Thanks.” The word barely makes it past my scratchy throat, but I mean it. Daisy has always loved to take care of me. Me being four years younger didn’t often make us ideal partners for playing, but she was still a protective older sister, always there when I needed her, especially when our parents weren’t.
After one more squeeze to my arm, she heads toward the door where she talks to Hunter, but I’m already zoned out again. My thoughts go back to Chloe, wondering what she’s doing right now?
Is she still working, or already done for today? Has she gotten any further in the competition? Has she been taking good care of herself? Getting some good sleep? That’s what kills me the most. I don’t just want her for the grand future I had always envisioned for us. I want her for the little things, the everyday stuff, and everything in between.
With this woman, I want it all.
And that’s exactly what I can’t have.
So, the question is, will what I can have be enough?
Or maybe more importantly, would I be able to live without having her in my life at all?
I pick up my phone and pull up her contact, looking at the photo I took of her when she thought I wasn’t watching. We were outside, catching the last sun rays of the day, when Chloe tilted her head toward the sky with a serene smile on her face. So damn beautiful.
Would I be able to live my life without her, to move on and chase my perfect future the way I had envisioned it without knowing if that would ever become reality?
But if it wasn’t with Chloe, would it be perfect? She nearly died . . . without me. She lost her grandfather . . . without me. Fuck, she even lost her dad. Again . . . without me. All because she loved me so much that she sacrificed her own happiness, her own planned-out perfect future, for me. Doesn’t that mean that the question is, what can I . . . what will I sacrifice for her?
Because is there really a guarantee for anything in life?
Thirty-Three
Chloe
“How you’re doing, Scribbles?”
I peek at Cody when he sits down next to me on my mom’s porch swing. She loved mine so much that she bought one too. Apparently, she also thought I needed a babysitter while she’s running some errands. Not that I’d ever be mad about seeing one of my favorite people.
Without replying, I lean my head on his shoulder, and close my eyes. His arm envelops me into a side hug, and I sink into the embrace. In my current emotional state, being held can go two ways. Either I cherish the contact and feel marginally better, or I break down like a baby.
Weirdly enough, I feel like both right now.
Neither one of us says a word as Cody gently pushes us back and forth.
“You were still pretty young when I came out of the closet. Back then, things weren’t as well accepted as they are now, not that it’s always perfect today . . . I was scared shitless. Absolutely shitless. I thought I’d fooled everyone, especially my family, and that this will come as the biggest shock in their lives.”
I’d heard pieces of this story before, but we never sat down and talked about it like this.
“My parents grinned like lunatics when I told them. They were actually proud of me. Which, to be honest, confused me even more. Somehow, I was still coming to terms with being gay. Not the actual fact that I was—there was never a doubt about that—but more so what it meant for my life, for my future. In a strange way, I was relieved that the cat was out of the bag, but I was also grieving.”
That gets my attention, and I peek up at him through my lashes, studying his profile as his gaze settles on something far away.
He swallows loudly. “I was terrified of how much pain this new life would cause me, yet I was also sad that I’d never have a family in the traditional sense. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget how recent gay rights for marriage and adoption are. Things ended up differently for Checco anyway, and it was our decision to not have any children, but back then, I grieved what I wouldn’t have regardless.”
“It hurts so much.” I close my eyes, shutting out the blurry world around me.
Cody’s arm pulls me closer. “I know, sweetie. You’ve gone through so much, and you’ve had to accept and overcome losses that I can’t even begin to imagine. If I had a magic wand, I’d give you everything you could possibly wish for.”
“After my diagnosis, I thought I didn’t deserve a new normal, that it wasn’t fair to drag someone down with me.” A tear rolls down my cheek, soaking into my uncle’s shirt.
“You deserve a beautiful life, even if things didn’t turn out the way they should have. Don’t let fear win, it will only lead to regrets. I want you to be happy, to find your person, your solace, who makes you wake up with a smile. Stand your ground and live the life you’ve been given. In every aspect. And don’t think for even a second that you’d ever drag anyone down. We’re all honored and beyond grateful to have you in our lives. Always.”
“Noah’s always been a handsome guy.” My mom’s voice startles me, and it’s pure luck I don’t draw a line straight across my drawing pad with my pencil. A flock of birds leaves the comforts of one of her trees in her backyard and shoots for the sky. Apparently, I’m not the only one my mom startled.
“Yeah.” My fingers lightly brush across the page, across Noah’s face.
Ever since Cody left earlier, my mind has been focused on Noah even more than it already had before. On every possible detail my brain could fabricate.
The way his hair has grown longer in the past few weeks, bringing back more of the waves he had when I first met him. Or his intense eyes that stare back at me from the page like they know me to a fault. And that devilish mouth. Oh, the things it can do.
My heart speeds up in my chest. A little faster than normal—even though my resting heart rate has been higher since my heart transplant—because that’s what it does when it comes to Noah. Even when I only think of him.
Everything’s more. Everything’s heightened. My mind loves to think about him, dream about him around the clock. Remember him at night when I’m by myself, when the sheets are too cold, when sleep is too restless by myself.
But that’s what my life will be like now, won’t it? Just like I had initially expected it to be . . . before I let myself fall down the rabbit hole of everything Noah. Before I let myself forget my own advice and ignored the nagging voice that this won’t end well. That this can’t go anywhere.
I won’t take something this monumental away from him and his life. I didn’t want to back then, and I don’t want to now. Even though letting go of him a second time is a lot harder than the first time. And since he hasn’t contacted me since he found out that I won’t have any child
ren, I guess it’s pretty clear where he stands on this whole issue.
This time, he’s done with me too.
And it hurts. So damn much.
But it also confirms that I did the right thing. He’s had the chance to move on, to create his perfect future, so why hasn’t he?
At least this break has been good for my productivity since work has been my way to get through the days that have felt longer than ever before. I was able to finish my sample for the young adult illustrated book competition.
My phone buzzes next to me on the table. It’s in clear view for my mom to see since she’s still standing right behind me, her hand on my shoulder both loving and reassuring.
“Speak of the devil.” Her hand tightens in a quick squeeze before she walks around to sit down in the chair opposite me. When I don’t pick up my phone immediately, her eyebrows rise. “Are you going to ignore him?”
My shoulders rise and fall. I’ve turned into a quiet hermit, either hiding at my house or at my mom’s. Fantastic. But I can’t handle any people right now, especially not any super awkward run-ins with Noah. It’s too soon. Way too soon.
She gives me a long look before she claps her hands once and stands back up. “Go get your stuff. We’re going somewhere.”
I moan like the petulant adult-child I feel like right now.
All the while, my phone keeps begging me to see what Noah sent. His first message, and my body and mind are in overdrive. Unable to decide which way to go; excited or scared. Or maybe a little bit of both?
I want to talk to him so badly, but at the same time, won’t that only make things worse?
What if he messaged to tell me that he found something of mine and wants me to pick it up? Or something equally impersonal and distant. And final.
My mom squats in front of my Adirondack chair. “I’ll meet you at the front door in five minutes, okay?”
I nod and she heads inside, but not before calling, “Read his message, sweetie.”
With a loud groan, I sink into the chair and close my eyes.
Should I read his text or not? I’m not sure what possible outcome is worse. But I know it will drive me crazy either way. After another deep breath, I close the drawing pad on my lap and place the pencil on it before grabbing my phone from the table.
Noah: Hey. Can we talk?
Seriously? That’s it? Couldn’t he have been a bit more specific about the whys of wanting to talk? Is this a good can we talk, or a bad one?
I groan and close my eyes. I need to think about this some more.
“Come on, Chloe.” My mom’s voice is getting more insistent, so I gather my things and head inside.
After a quick bathroom break, I join my mom in the entryway. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” My mom looks adorable with her short, dark bob and her new favorite cat-eye sunglasses that she’s convinced will make her hip. I don’t know what I’d do without her. This woman has gone through so much and still greets every day with a smile. She’s my personal unicorn.
I try to channel some of her spark and link my arm through hers. “All right. Let’s do this.”
We hop in my car and Mom directs me to an area that’s all too familiar.
When we get to the small strip mall—with the old movie theater in the back of the parking lot—I park in front of the smoothie place my mom directs me to.
Mom unbuckles and looks at me over the middle console. “Let’s get a yummy drink and soak up a few more of the sun’s rays.”
Five minutes later, we get comfortable at a table outside. I definitely need to remember this place. They have a ton of super healthy options, and my tropical green smoothie is delicious.
My mom puts her red berry concoction on the table and points at the movie theater. “That’s the place you and Noah used to go to a lot, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
She lets out a heavy sigh, but when I look at her, a small smile graces her face. “Did I ever tell you that I met your dad at that movie theater for the first time?”
My eyes widen. “What? I thought you guys met at school?”
“Well, we went to the same school, but we’d never talked. I don’t know why. So for me, this movie theater is where our love story began. We bumped into each other, and I just knew.”
She’s quiet for a moment, lost in thought. “I still remember when David tried to put his arm around me during the movie by being all nonchalant about it. Like I wouldn’t notice he’s yawning and stretching before ending with one arm behind me. His awkwardness made him even more endearing.”
My mom’s laugh gets us a few stares from other patrons, but I couldn’t care less. I live to see her this happy. It fills my bucket endlessly. No matter if it’s supposed to be like this or not, but I think it takes someone special to live the way my mom does. To live in the moment and mostly thrive on the happy memories. To let positivity overshadow the negativity so it’s unable to eat you alive. I wish we all could have that ability. It would do humanity some good.
Her hand moves across the table to grab mine. “I know things aren’t easy for you, and I’m not even going to pretend like I know what it’s like to be in your shoes, because I don’t. Just like you promised your dad to not have any regrets in your life if you can help it, I want you to promise me something too.”
I swallow and nod, not sure if I’m ready for whatever’s going to come out of my mom’s mouth next.
She squeezes my hand. “Don’t let fear rule your life. Go after what you want, or who you want. You’ve gone through enough hardship already, and I want you to live your life to the fullest. To experience everything you want to experience. You deserve it so much.”
The tightness in my throat squeezes before I force my way past it, my words barely making it out in a whisper. “What if it’s not the right thing to do though? I don’t want to screw up anyone’s life.”
We both know what—or rather who—we’re talking about.
My mom leans closer across the bistro table. “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t think you’ll screw up anyone’s life. And even if you do, then you can at least say you’ve tried. Only if you reach for the stars, will you be able to achieve true happiness. And if you fail, you’ll be that much wiser because of that escapade. Some things will come with an expiration date, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t experience them in the first place.”
My eyes burn with unshed tears, this whole conversation hitting home way too hard. Which is probably the reason for it. My mom has always given me the time to work through my issues, waiting until I’m willing to actually hear what she has to say when she eventually talks things through with me.
I try to hide my sniffle, but it’s pointless. “It feels selfish to want those things.”
“Why don’t you let him make that decision?” My mom’s voice is firm, and I can see the conviction of her words on her face. “Maybe he wants you to be selfish because he wants you.”
A tiny speck of hope flutters in my chest, and it feels so good that I don’t have it in me to douse it. Is there a chance that my mom might be right? That I’m enough? Just me?
She clears her throat. “Let me tell you one thing. If I knew back then what I know now, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. You and your dad are the highlights of my life, always have been and always will be. Would another life have been easier? Possibly. But it wouldn’t have given me either of you, which sounds pretty lame to me.”
An unsteady breath leaves my mouth as I listen to the woman I admire the most in my life.
“I’d choose you and your dad every single time, something I told your dad a million times, especially when he felt sorry for ‘putting me through the wringer’ as he always liked to call it. I wanted to be there. For him, but also for myself. Both of you have made me a better person. I’ve found myself because of the path I chose despite the heartache we’ve gone through, or maybe because of it. You are worth it. So very much.”
A single tear slips
down my cheek at the memory of my dad, and what both of us—and my mom—have gone through.
She pushes her chair back and finishes her smoothie. “I’ll go use the restroom quickly. Maybe there’s someone you’d like to message back?” She leaves with a wink.
There’s so much to think about, yet nothing at all. It’s never been about what I want, but rather about what I’m afraid of Noah might not want.
Me.
Despite my fear—or maybe because of it—I get my phone out of my pocket and open Noah’s message.
Maybe it is time to show fear who the boss is.
Thirty-Four
Noah
The nightmare clings to me like a leech.
Chloe’s lifeless body lying on the floor, not responding to anything. Her skin drained of all color and ice cold. Her heart not beating anymore.
I draw in a sharp breath, willing my tense muscles to relax.
My brow and neck are covered in sweat and my chest feels like someone placed a weight on it. My head is fuzzy, my mind still halfway clinging to that damn dream while the other half is trying to shake off this intense terror before it sucks me into its hole.
I grab my phone and unlock the screen. Maybe Chloe sent another message and I missed it? But nope, the one she sent yesterday is still the most recent one.
Chloe: I’ll be busy the next couple days, but we can get together on Thursday if you want.
That’s still two days away. Depending on when we meet, more than forty-eight hours.
Shit. That’s two fucking days too long.
The rhythm of my heartbeat whooshes in my ears as I get up and head to the bathroom. The gray tiles, gray countertop, and black cabinets match my dark mood.
Second Dive: A Second Chance Sports Romance (Kings Of The Water Book 3) Page 21