“I know you can hear me,” I whispered into his ear. Our fingers interlaced, I continued, “I love you so much. Please don’t leave me. Okay?”
I breathed him in—all of him—sterilized hospital gown, burnt eggs, a hint of soap from his morning shower. And then I felt it—a squeeze. Or maybe it was a twitch.
“Julian,” I said, springing up. “Do that again.”
I waited. And waited. But there was nothing. I told myself I’d just imagined it, but a small part of me held out a tiny sliver of hope.
I stayed by his side the rest of the day leaving only once to grab a quick bite and some coffee from the cafeteria. I studied his face for signs that he was waking up, and at times, I swore to the nurses I’d seen his eyes flutter or his face twitch. I never let go of his hand hoping for one more squeeze.
“Sweetie,” a nurse said late that night. “You’ve been here all day. You need to go home and get some rest. He’ll be here when you come back in the morning.”
“I know,” I said, not wanting to unglue myself from him for one second.
“Visiting hours ended a while ago,” she said in a matronly tone, cocking her head to the side.
“Thanks for letting me stay,” I said. “I just can’t leave him.”
“I know, sweetie,” she said as she recorded his vitals. “Why don’t you go home, sleep in your own bed, and come back first thing tomorrow? You’ve got to take care of yourself. He needs you to be strong, so you can take care of him when he gets better.”
“True,” I said with a fatigued sigh, sitting up and reluctantly unpeeling myself from under his covers. The thought of leaving him there alone all night tore me up inside, but the nurse had a point.
With heavy eyes and an even heavier heart, I said my quiet goodnight to Julian and promised to return first thing in the morning. I lingered for a moment hoping for one final sign from him before I left, but it never happened. I left him with a kiss and stroked his soft cheek.
* * *
I peeled off my clothes the second I got home and slipped under the covers of our bed. I hated sleeping alone, and despite his three-week stint in the hospital the last time, I’d never grown used to it.
I tossed and turned for hours even resorting to turning on the TV in the bedroom, which ran loop after loop of infomercials and vintage sitcoms rife with canned laughter. I focused on the bright screen until my eyelids grew heavy and eventually won over my busy mind.
Fading in and out of sleep all night, at one point I could’ve sworn I felt him. A shift on the bed, a warmth, a soft kiss on my cheek. It was all so real.
“Julian,” I moaned from my dreamlike state.
When I woke hours later, the bed was empty, and Julian’s side was cold. It was just me. Always had been. The alarm clock read 6:00 a.m., and I wasted no time getting ready. My stomach fluttered at the thought of walking into his room and finding him sitting up in bed, watching the news, eating his breakfast, and greeting me with the biggest smile in the world.
In the middle of my shower, the faint ring of my phone trailed down the hall. A phone call at 6:00 a.m. was never a good thing, but maybe it was him? Maybe he’d woken up and was calling to tell me? Excited, I jumped out of the shower, water still running, and ran down the hall to retrieve my phone. The caller ID said Mercy Hope Hospital.
“This is Evie,” I said breathlessly.
“Evie Garner-Willoughby?” the woman’s voice on the other end asked, emotionless.
“Yes.”
“This is Joanne at Mercy Hope. I’m a nurse,” she said.
“Is Julian okay?” I asked immediately as my damp body dried in the middle of my room, and wet hair clung to my back. “Did he wake up? Please tell me he woke up.”
The nurse hesitated on the other end sending my stomach into a freefall.
“Can you come down to the hospital please?” she asked, not answering my question.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
“The doctor would like to speak to you,” she said.
A nurse by trade, I knew what it meant when a doctor wanted to meet with family, and the nurse was tightlipped.
“No, no, no,” I said, sobbing. “No…”
“Evie,” the nurse said, her voice growing sympathetic. I couldn’t be mad at her. I knew she was just doing her job. “Please come down to the hospital.”
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” I wailed as I fell to the floor naked and afraid of what she was about to tell me.
“Please come to the hospital immediately,” she repeated.
I threw the phone across the room leaving shards of screen glass and chunks of plastic scattered about. My entire life had gone up in flames after a two-minute phone call.
I heaved myself onto our bed and grabbed Julian’s pillow which still smelled like him. It was all I had left. He was gone. I’d never see his beautiful champagne eyes again or lose myself in his devilish grins or laugh at his smart-mouthed jokes. I’d never hear him tell me he loved me again or how gorgeous I looked in sweats and a faded t-shirt. I’d never get to cook for him again or take a leisurely walk around the neighborhood with him. I’d never get to travel the world with him.
After a good, hard cry, I got myself cleaned up and headed to the hospital. With eyes nearly swollen shut, I could hardly drive there, and when I pulled up, I doubted my ability to walk myself in. My entire body was trembling, unsteady, and there was no one to hold me up but myself.
I made my way inside each step bringing me closer to my new reality. I stepped into his room where his lifeless body was covered with a clean, white sheet. I pulled the sheet from his face which was drained of all color. His blue lips, the very ones I’d kissed the night before, were rigid and cold, never to smile again, never to speak again, never to kiss me again.
“Mrs. Garner-Willoughby?” a man’s voice said from the doorway. I turned to see a doctor standing before me, his arms crossed and an expression that told me he hated this part of his job. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Julian’s body was going through a lot. His organs were shutting down, and it just happened too quickly. His body couldn’t handle fighting a lung infection as well as the loss of pancreatic function and elevated liver enzymes all at the same time.”
I nodded, listening, but my gaze was on Julian. I didn’t want to hear it. None of it mattered. None of it would bring him back.
“He fought hard,” the doctor continued. “But ultimately, his body just gave up. He’d been through too much.”
“I know,” I said. “He was a fighter.”
“If you have any more questions, I’m Dr. White,” he said before stepping out of the room and leaving me alone with nothing except my husband’s cold body and some memories.
“My baby,” a woman’s shrill voice shrieked from outside. Her sobs were real. And maybe Julian would’ve denied it, but I couldn’t. They were the cries of a mother who’d just lost her son.
Caroline entered the room, ignoring me, and ran to Julian’s lifeless body. Arthur followed behind with a pained look on his stiff-lipped face. Caroline cried out over her son’s body, and as much as I didn’t want to be around her, I stayed for Julian’s sake. It was what he would’ve wanted.
“How are you holding up, Evie?” Arthur asked, breaking the awkward silence. “We’ve always known this day would come.” He rubbed Caroline’s back as she sobbed.
Two transporters came in and regretfully announced they had to move his body to the morgue, upsetting Caroline even more.
“I barely got to see him!” she wailed. “I need more time!”
His cold, dead body was covered up again and wheeled away as the men insisted they were just doing their job.
My eyes burned as I walked out to my car, trying not to lose my composure. I held it in until I got home, and then I lost it. Hours upon hours of crying, screaming, sobbing, and wailing. And then a little bit of sleep to forget about life for a while.
* * *
His funeral was on a Tuesday. It
was small, yet elegant. He didn’t have a lot of friends or even many acquaintances, but both of our parents were there, as well as Carys. A handful of distant relatives from his side of the family and a few strange faces peppered the rest of the small crowd.
The funeral director gave me some alone time with Julian’s body before the service. He didn’t look the same, but he looked peaceful. His body had been through so much in his short twenty-four years, and he was finally getting to rest.
As I exited the viewing room, I ran into Arthur and Caroline who were waiting outside for their turn. Caroline shot me a dirty look before whispering something into Arthur’s ear. Categorically Caroline. Julian was right. She wasn’t human.
“Caroline,” I said, unable to help myself. “I know you have your opinions about me, and that’s fine, but I want you to know that I loved your son. He was the love of my life. No one will ever be able to replace him. I loved him, Caroline. I loved him.”
Her eyes shifted uncomfortably. She had no response. I knew she believed me, and it was perfectly fine with me if she would never admit it. I just wanted her to hear it.
Epilogue
EVIE
I flew home after the burial. I locked all the doors. I drew all the curtains. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to be alone with all Julian’s things and his memories, whatever was left. I wanted to see if I could feel him around me. I wanted to grieve and cry and yell. I didn’t want to be judged, consoled, pitied, or stared at.
I ransacked our closet and threw on a sweatshirt of his. It was the closest thing I was going to get to being held by him. I flipped through some pictures of the two of us, and there weren’t many, mostly selfies shot at arm’s length. It was always just us. I laughed. I cried. I laughed and then cried some more.
I lit the fireplace and grabbed one of Julian’s books flipping through the pages Julian himself had once touched not that long ago. From the corner of my eye, I could’ve sworn the little antique globe in the corner moved a little. If I couldn’t travel the world with him, I’d travel it for him.
My heart warmed over briefly. I knew it was exactly what he would’ve wanted. And my heart fell when I realized I didn’t have a single penny to my name. I didn’t want to sell the house. Our house.
“You’ll always be very well taken care of,” I recalled him saying to me time and again, though he never elaborated, and I never asked him to. I suppose I never wanted to go there in my mind.
With swollen eyes growing heavy, I lay down on the sofa and let the heat of the fireplace warm my face. June wasn’t supposed to be so cold, but that day, it was frigid.
The second I closed my eyes, a knock at the door echoed through the quiet house. I popped up, instantly annoyed. It was probably someone stopping by to check on me, but I was hardly in the mood to be social.
I peeked out the front window eyeing a strange car in the driveway, a white BMW that stood out like a sore thumb against the darkness that surrounded it.
I wiped my tear-stained face and finger-combed my hair into place before opening the door. Standing before me was a man who was the spitting image of my Julian.
“Are you Evie?” he asked.
“Who are you?” I replied.
“I need to talk to you,” he said, clutching a letter in his hand.
The End
Page ahead for a sneak peek of Book Two in this Duet!
The End of Everything — Book Two Sneak Peek
We hope you have enjoyed Book One of the Garner-Willoughby Brothers Duet.
Book Two, The End of Everything is available for preorder and will be released on July 2nd, 2018
Page ahead for a sneak peek of Book Two in this Duet!
Description
Description – The End of Everything – Garner-Willoughby Brothers Duet Book Two
JUDE
I’m not worthy. I don’t deserve her. And I know it.
I’ve been called lots of things in my day. An anomaly. A walking contradiction. A complicated asshole. But I’ve never been called someone’s hero… until her.
EVIE
I don’t understand him, and I sure as hell don’t understand what’s happening. He confuses me, and at times, I want to slap him and kiss him all at once. I didn’t even know he existed. Nothing makes sense anymore. All I know is he’s the most complex man I’ve ever met, and as much as I try to deny the way I feel about him, I’m powerless in the solace of his embrace. Our relationship may be inappropriate and unconventional, but it’s ours. And in a weird sort of way, he’s my hero.
But there are secrets and self-loathing behind his eyes, words left unspoken, and questions unanswered. And I’m determined to find out what the hell is going on.
Prologue
JULIAN
Twenty-four years. Twenty-four painfully short years. I’d have given anything for a lifetime with her, but certain things were beyond my control. I couldn’t control the fact that just as my life was finally given meaning, it was taken away, I couldn’t control the fact that I met the love of my life months before I was to take my very last breath, and I couldn’t control the fact that I had to leave her broken-hearted and devastated picking up the pieces of our shattered dreams.
I knew the day would come when I would no longer be able to kiss her sweet lips, drink in the scent of her soft skin, or feel the way her hair slipped so gently between my fingertips. The idea of Evie waking up each day with no one to kiss her good morning or tell her how beautiful she looked in the shimmering sunlight weighed so heavy on my heart that I knew what I needed to do.
There was only one man who could love her the way I did—uncompromising, unconditionally, and unrelenting. And there was only one man who was worthy of Evie’s love. So, I did what a dying man does when he knows his days are numbered—I contacted my older brother and asked him for a favor.
Chapter 1
JUDE
“Wh-who are you?” she stammered, red-faced and puffy-eyed as she finger-combed her dark, disheveled hair into place.
I stuffed the paper into my leather jacket suddenly realizing Julian had never told her about me before. Her bleary-eyed gaze washed over me as she clutched her chest. We looked eerily alike, my brother and I, and I could only imagine how difficult it was for her to see me standing before her the night of his funeral.
“I’m Jude,” I said. “Jude Garner-Willoughby.”
I raked my fingers through my chocolate brown hair, the very same hair I shared with my younger brother and softened my hazel eyes in her direction.
Evie stood in silence as she braced herself against her door. “I’m sorry. Are you a cousin or something?”
“Older brother,” I said. “May I come in?”
She swung the door wide open and motioned toward the living room of her humble bungalow. Calling it a fixer-upper would’ve been giving it too much credit, but it was homey. Much cozier than the impenetrable brick walls of the Garner-Willoughby manse, that was for sure.
My heavy shoes clomped on the rustic wood floors as I shuffled my way to the living room and sat on the sofa. This was going to be so fucking awkward.
“You don’t have anything to drink, do you?” I asked. “Beer? Liquor?”
She narrowed her eyes at me and hesitated before saying, “Wine. I have some wine.”
“Wine works,” I said, taking a deep breath and leaning back onto the cushy leather. The entire car ride from California to Kansas gave me plenty of thinking time but being face to face with my brother’s grieving widow changed everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I should say.
She returned with two wine goblets filled to the brim with red wine.
“I’m normally not a big drinker,” I said as I took a goblet out of her hand and proceeded to down it one gulp at a time. “I swear.”
“Mmm hmm,” she said softly, clearly unconvinced. “It’s okay. I needed a drink, too.”
“Honest,” I said, setting the empty goblet on the coffee table. My eyes landed on a
pair of my brother’s shoes resting next to the front door perfectly aligned as if a ghost were standing in them. “This is weird for me being back here, being in this town.”
She nodded as she slowly sipped her wine and eyed me, staring like I was a ghost.
“I’m sorry,” she said, breaking her silence. “It’s just… I didn’t know he had a brother.”
“Really? He never mentioned me?”
“Nope,” she said, her gaze transfixed on me as if she were seeing an apparition of her late husband. “He pretty much implied he was an only child. Or I guess I just assumed.”
I laughed, cocking my head to the side. “I guess I deserve that. I get it.”
“Well, I don’t get it,” she huffed. “I’d love if you could fill me in.”
“Evie,” I said, offering her a gentle smile. “There’s so much more than I could ever begin to tell you. Our family is so complicated, more than you could ever begin to imagine.”
“I want to know everything,” she demanded, turning her entire body toward me.
“There’s a reason he didn’t tell you everything,” I said. “I should probably respect his wishes, don’t you think? Maybe he didn’t tell you things as his way of protecting you.”
“Maybe,” she said, shrinking back. She turned her face as if to hide the tears that were pooling in her ocean-blue eyes. “Guess I’ll never know.”
I scooted closer to her, instinctively wanting to put my arm around her, and then stopped. In the quiet stillness of that house, we were just two perfect strangers brought together by tragedy.
The Beginning of Everything_Garner Page 18