by Cindy Miles
My heart instantly dropped to the bottom of my stomach. “What’s wrong?”
Brax cleared his throat. “Jace has been in an accident,” he started, and my insides froze. “We’re at Covington General if you want to come up.”
My mind whirled. “Brax, is he okay—what happened?” I closed my eyes, willed myself to breathe.
“He’s in surgery right now,” Brax offered. “Pretty banged up, but the doc says he’ll be okay. Just thought you might want to come—”
“I’ll be right there.”
Tears fell from my eyes as I pulled on jeans and a long sleeved T-shirt, and rushed to my father’s room. “Dad,” I said, waking him up. He looked at me, confusion fogging his eyes for a brief moment before he sat straight up.
“Memory, are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” I reassured him. “Jace has been in an accident. Will you go to the hospital with me?”
Max Thibodeaux was out of his bed and pulling on jeans before my sentence finished. He muttered something in Acadian French—something even I didn’t understand. Before long, though, we were dressed and in his truck, heading for Covington. Neither of us said a word; the drive was quiet, the air thick with worry. I texted Claire to let her know what was going on, and then I stared straight ahead as Max made up the miles. Before long and, luckily without being pulled over by Covington’s deputy, we turned into the hospital, close to the ED department, and hurried inside. The smell of alcohol hit me square in the nose, bringing back old memories, doctor visits, needle sticks, IVs—yet I was surprised how easily I pushed it aside. All I cared about was Jace.
The moment we made it to the information desk, Olivia and Brax approached me and Olivia grasped me lightly by the hand.
“He’s going to fine, Memory,” she said in that kind, genuine voice. Her eyes sought mine, and I wondered if Jace had mentioned anything about what I’d just told him. Her smile was warm, personable, and the softness in her eyes eased my worry somewhat. “Let’s go sit,” she said, and smiled at my dad.
“This is Max, my father,” I introduced. “Brax and Olivia.”
Max nodded, and shook Brax’s hand.
And then we followed them to the surgical waiting area, where Jace’s mom and brothers sat. My eyes scanned over them, and there was no denying one thing. The Beaumonts all took their looks from their mom. She gave me a warm smile as we walked in.
“Well.” She rose and shook my hand. “You’ve got to be Memory.” Jace’s sage eyes stared back at me, just as expressive, just as curious. “He told me how stunning you were, and boy, he wasn’t kidding. I’m Sadie. Those are my other boys, Kyle and Seth.”
They each gave a nod, and I felt my cheeks burn at Sadie’s compliment. She was beautiful herself and did not look old enough to be mother to four grown children. “My father, Max,” I introduced, and Sadie Beaumont’s eyes met my dad’s, and they shook hands as well. “How’s Jace?” I asked. “Is he okay?”
Sadie smiled. “Sit, honey,” she offered, and I did, taking an empty chair beside Olivia. Dad sat next to me, and I realized how much I’d wanted him there with me.
“Jace had gone out on a tow and was apparently squatted down securing the wench,” she began. “A car hit the back of his tow truck and somehow it knocked Jace and threw him,” she continued. “Drunk driver. The police already have him in custody. And by the grace of God, Jace escaped with a few broken ribs, some gashes, and they’re pinning his arm right now.” Worry crossed her face. “By the sweet grace of God, he’ll be okay.”
Relief washed through me, but as I sat in the waiting room with Jace’s family, and watched Brax’s brother Kane and Harper join them, and we all sat there together, it made me realize a myriad of things. Countless emotions assaulted me at once, almost squeezing the air from my lungs. Thoughts filled my head, and I became so anxious to see Jace, to talk to him—to tell him how I felt—that I thought I’d hyperventilate. An hour ticked by, then thirty more minutes, and finally, a doctor emerged and spoke to Sadie, and she left with him. More waiting ensued, and I thought I’d go absolutely out of my freaking ever-loving mind. My eyes moved over Jace’s family, and I knew I’d be last in line to see him. I rose, walked to the big picture window overlooking the parking lot. The sun sat at the tree line, waiting to rise.
“You scared us all half to death at the complex,” Olivia suddenly said by my side, and I looked at her, and concern darkened her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Jace hadn’t told her about my diagnosis, and for that I was grateful. “I am,” I assured her. “Thanks for letting me know about this,” I said. “About Jace.”
She smiled, and it made her eyes brighter, and small crinkles pinched at the corners. “He begged me not to, so I suppose I’ll get an earful when he wakes,” she confessed.
Jace didn’t want me to know. That could only mean he didn’t want me here at all. Didn’t want to see me. Didn’t want to talk to me—
“Memory?”
Olivia and I both turned, and Sadie had walked in. She gave me a smile, and her eyes slid to my dad’s for a moment. “Come with me, honey. Jace is asking for you and if I don’t get you in there soon, he might just come out here to find you.” She threw her sons and daughter a shrug. “Sorry, guys.”
Olivia squeezed my hand, gave me a sheepish grin, and with my heart in my throat I hurried along with Sadie Beaumont as she led me to Jace’s room. We rode the elevator to the fifth floor, and the whole while I willed my heart to slow down before it beat right out of its cage.
Sadie put her arm around my shoulder as we stepped out and at Room 502, she stopped. “It’s okay, honey,” she said, and gave me a slight push toward the door. Her smile was warm, just like Olivia’s. “He won’t bite.”
I nodded. “Thanks.” With a deep breath, I pushed open the door, and the moment I stepped in, Jace’s eyes opened and I hurried to him.
At his bed, I stopped. One eye was black and swollen. He had a cut on his lip, another across his forehead with sutures holding the gash closed. His chest was bare; his ribs bound with white tape. His left wrist was in a hard blue cast. I eased down on the bed beside him, and his uninjured hand reached for mine.
“Memory,” he said, and his voice was scratchy. “I—”
Gently, I placed my fingertips over his lips, sufficiently shushing him. “Don’t,” I said softly. “Not until you tell me you’re okay.”
The smile pulling at his mouth eased my fear. “I’m fine, I swear. Just a little banged up.”
“You were hit by a car,” I said. “You could’ve been killed, Jace. “
He shrugged, but the pain on his face made me know the motion hurt. “Had a few things on my mind, Ms. Thibodeaux.”
I sighed, closed my eyes; opened them. “Please, Jace. Please just hear me out.”
His eyes glistened, and he nodded, and I removed my hand. I breathed. Kept my gaze on his. “I never wanted to be known as That Girl Who Had Brain Cancer. I didn’t want to be different. I…wanted to experience everything. I had a Bucket List a mile wide,” I laughed softly, then stroked his stubbled jaw with my fingertips. “I never once thought falling in love would shove its way to the top of that list, but it did.” I smiled. “The moment I fell in love with you.” An unwanted sob crept into my throat. “I’m sorry I kept it from you, Jace Beaumont. You scared me to death tonight.”
A soft, subtle tug at his lips eased his mouth into that crooked smile, and his fingers laced with mine. “If you thought some stupid brain tumor would chase me away you were sadly mistaken, Ms. Thibodeaux.” He tugged me, and I leaned close, closer, until his lips brushed over mine, and my heart quickened, and my breath lodged in my throat. His kiss consumed me, and it was soft, tender, possessive, and when I lost my senses and leaned into him, he groaned. I pulled back, and our eyes locked, and his softened to that perfect sage color, and inside, I knew Fate had pushed us together for a reason. He pulled me back, close to him, and he kissed me again, then look
ed at me with such sincerity, I could barely breathe. He held my jaw with one hand and studied me, searched my eyes.
“I’ve fallen in love with a girl whose future is completely undecided,” he said gently, then shook his head. “But when I look at you, all I see is strength. Will. Determination. All that combined with a natural beauty and love of life that all but sucks the breath from me.” He smiled. “If I can’t die for you, Memory Catherine Thibodeaux, I’ll fight with you. Side by side. Until forever.”
I couldn’t speak; could barely breathe. Tears slid down my cheeks, and Jace lifted a thumb to brush them away. “It’s a long, bumpy road,” I warned. “Full of potholes.” I sighed. “I’m…a terrible risk, Jace Beaumont.”
Jace simply smiled. “What battle isn’t?”
Jasper McGillis knew a guy. Who knew a guy. Who then knew another guy.
The right guy.
After meeting with Winston’s dean, along with my professors, and due to my precarious circumstances, I was given permission to take my final exams early. Like I said before, I was one of those annoying people who rarely had to study. I knew I’d pass them, and I did. It was never a question, the if.
It was always the when.
Jace—still battered and bruised, with his arm in a blue cast—rode with me and my dad to the neurosurgeon’s consult. I sat there and listened, with Jace’s hand laced through mine, as the doctor entailed every single risk, every possibility, and every result that may or may not happen, with or without the surgery. He informed us that my survival rate was less than thirty percent. Max Thibodeaux had grasped my hand and looked at the surgeon with the most ferocious look I’d ever seen.
“You don’t know my Memory,” he assured the surgeon.
I hoped he was right.
I understood all risks. Consented. Got the papers, lab work, and pre-op taken care of. My surgery was scheduled. I had exactly seven weeks before graduation ceremonies. And I was damned determined to walk that Mother Effing stage and collect my diploma with the rest of my class. It was on my Bucket List, after all.
Dr. Cates urged the neurosurgeon to move fast. The medication hadn’t shrunk the mass as they’d hoped; it had actually grown, which was why I was having headaches, and which was why I’d ultimately had a seizure. I was scared out of my mind, but I knew this was it. I had no other option.
Other than to just wait around for the inevitable while being knocked down by blinding headaches and seizure activity. No fucking thank you.
The day before surgery included a huge get-together at my house. And it wasn’t your typical gathering. Jace had talked to my dad and, after conspiring with Brax, Crisco, Conner and Bentley, they all showed up: Claire, Brie, Sugar and Olivia in tow, and had a Buzz Party. Yep. It’s exactly what it sounded like.
The surgeon had informed us of the incision to my skull and how large it would be and, given the fact that I’d start chemo two weeks after surgery if all went accordingly, he suggested I buzz my hair off. I’d suffered losing my hair once so I already knew there was No Way In Hell I was going to go bald slowly, as chunks fell out on my pillow. Hell to the Naw. I told Jace right then and there I wanted to buzz it off. I think it hurt him worse than it hurt me.
So we gathered at my house—even old Jasper came by—and we pulled a kitchen chair onto the front porch and, as Guest of Honor, I got buzzed first. Jace pulled my long black hair back into a ponytail, then cut it off for Locks of Love. Then he buzzed the rest of my hair off, and pressed his lips to my head. Claire cried as the rest of it fell into a heap, and I pulled her into my lap.
“Aw, Peeshwank, stop it,” I crooned. “It’ll grow back.”
She grasped my cheeks and kissed my nose. “I know.”
Then I stood, rocking my G.I. Jane, and did the honors on first Jace. Then Brax, Crisco, Bentley, and Conner. The girls had all dyed a pink stripe through their hair.
Old Jasper had laughed. “I ain’t got no hair to buzz, girl,” he said. And he smiled that knowing smile, and I hugged him.
When we were finished, Jace stood there, buzzed to the scalp, same as me. He’d grasped my face with his two hands, and lowered his mouth to mine.
“Do you even know how not to be sexy?” he whispered for only my ears to hear.
I grinned, rubbed his head. “Do you?”
The day passed quickly, and since surgery was scheduled for seven a.m., I knew I’d have to have an early start. After everyone left, Jace remained, and we sat on the porch steps together, me between his legs, my head resting against his chest. Still casted from his accident, he draped his uninjured hand across me, and held me close against him.
“You’re going to get through this, Memory Thibodeaux,” he said against my buzzed head. He kissed my old scar, and chills crossed my spine. “I’m going to make sure of it.”
I believed him.
By morning, Jace had returned and he, my dad and I headed to the hospital. Inside, my nerves bundled and hummed, and it wasn’t so much the surgery itself that scared me. It wasn’t the chemo and radiation treatments that would follow. It was whether or not I’d awaken after. My condition after.
I’d tied an Aerosmith kerchief around my head—a gift from Jace, and we’d walked into the hospital. One hand laced with Jace’s, the other with my dad’s. By the time I’d been prepped and in holding, the team allowed Jace and my dad in to sit with me. Little did I know the rest of the crowd would show up. Even Jasper.
It was one packed little holding room, and my friends stood by my side, and Jace held my hand, and Max Thibodeaux held the other, and soon it was time for me to go, and everyone, save Jace and Max, left. Suddenly fear got ahold of me. I squeezed Jace’s hand so tight, and tears rolled down my cheeks.
“I’m scared.” I kind of half-laughed, and Jace wiped the tears from my eyes. I looked at him, then my dad. I studied each of them, every feature, every scar, every mark.
Dad leaned down and kissed me. “Don’t be scared, darlin’,” he whispered. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Then, Jace did the same. He bent over me, looked me square in the eyes, and I held his gaze. “You fight, Memory,” he said quietly. “And I’m here to fight with you.” He kissed me then, and gave me that half-cocked grin. “I’m still so in crazy with you, Memory Catherine Thibodeaux,” he said softly.
I smiled and brushed his jaw with my fingertips. “And I’m so in total chaos with you, Jace Samuel Beaumont.”
As the team rolled me out, Jace and my dad stepped out and followed us to the elevator. Just before the doors closed, I saw the two of them, standing side-by-side. Two people that I loved more than life.
Two faces I prayed I’d see again.
“I’ll be right here,” Jace said with a wide grin, and his hand over his heart.
He knew I’d know the E.T. movie quote, and I smiled back.
“See you when you wake up, Ms. Thibodeaux,” Jace said.
“Not if I see you first, Mr. Beaumont,” I replied.
The doors closed, and I shut my eyes.
“Mama, I’m scared.” A sob caught in my throat. Daddy had stepped out of the pre-op room to speak with the doctor about the surgery I was getting ready to go into. The smell of rubbing alcohol filled my nose, and I was cold. The room was bright. Too bright. And the constant beep-beep-beep of the monitor beside my bed made my head hurt. Any minute now, they’d be taking me away. To cut into my brain. I felt like the only seven-year-old girl having to go through this. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to die. “I don’t know what to do.”
A warm hand slid across mine, and Mama’s long fingers grasped me tightly, and I squeezed as hard as I could. “Honey, it’s a scary thing, yeah,” Mama said. Her voice was soft, whispery, and it reminded me of honey. Her long black hair hung over her shoulders, and her blue eyes shone as she lowered her head and looked me in the eye. “But you do know what to do. You’ve known all along. You’re a strong girl, Memory, and a Thibodeaux to boot. You were a gift from God, did you
know that? And you’re here on this earth to make a profound mark. Your mark. Because when you set your mind to something, you do it.” She smiled and kissed my nose. “You go in fighting, even after the doctors put you to sleep you fight, with everything you have in you.” Her black brows knitted. “Don’t you go all soft on me, girl. You’re my strong daisy, yeah? You fight like crazy. And I’ll be right here when you wake. And, Memory?”
“Yes, Mama?” I said.
“I love you to the moon and back.” She kissed my cheek, and her flowery scent crept into my nostrils, and I breathed her in.
Peace settled over me. “I love you, too, Mama…”
A firm presence surrounded my hand; warm, rough, secure. Not Mama’s. Had she been there with me? I’d thought so. The memory of her was so strong, I’d thought I was seven again. Or that she was beside me. But I was not trapped in a dream, and I was no longer seven. And Mama was no longer here—not physically, anyway. I was now in the present, and the strength around my fingers felt familiar, but they weren’t Mama’s. And it seemed as though weights were attached to my eyelids; slowly and with effort I cracked them open, blinking away the blur, the haze, the webs. The room was dark; a slow and steady beep-beep echoed softly. I blinked some more, barely turned my head.
Jace sat in a chair that he’d pulled up beside my hospital bed. His hand was stuck through the bed rail and interlocked with mine. His buzzed head was resting back on the chair, and the soft rise and fall of his chest as he breathed was his only movement. I’d made it! I wasn’t a vegetable! Gently, I squeezed his hand.
Jace’s eyes fluttered open and the moment he focused on me, he moved, and was standing above me. He hadn’t turned my hand loose.
“Memory?” he said. In That Voice of Butter and Silk.
“Were you expecting someone else?” I asked. My voice was scratchy, sore.
Relief washed over his tired face. “Nope,” he answered, then gave me a crooked smile. “Just you, ma’am.”
I grinned. “I’m not a vegetable,” I assured him.