by Ashley Logan
Her gaze returns to the wall. "You're just saying that because I'm naked. Boobs make men go loopy."
"Boobs can be troublesome," I admit, dipping the sponge again and rubbing slow circles over her back. "It might comfort you to know that copious volumes of crying-induced snot have a counter-intuitive quality that cancels out any inappropriate inklings that boobs tend to initiate, so I'm currently unaffected by any boob-related loopiness. You're quite safe from poor judgment."
Groaning, Stace tilts her head forward and splashes water over her face several times before tilting sideways and submerging herself.
When her puffy red eyes eventually rise above the water to meet mine, she watches me a moment before standing up in the bath. As water drips down her beautiful curves, I swallow hard and reach for a towel. Shaking it out, I hold it open for her, obstructing my view in the process.
"Still nothing huh?"
"I wouldn't say nothing. Just that I'm not a complete jerk who's going to try and take advantage of you when you're vulnerable."
"Gallant," she says, stepping out of the bath and into the towel as I help wrap it around her.
"Hmm. Maybe. Sometimes."
"All the time," she corrects me, before lowering her gaze to her wet footprints on the bathmat. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."
"You needed to yell at someone. Your mom is dying and it's unfair."
She looks up at my response. "But it's not your fault."
"And not yours either," I affirm. "May I offer you a ride to your bedroom to find something warm for you to wear?"
"I can walk and dress myself."
"I'm sure you normally bathe yourself without help too, but you've had a rather large and sudden shock. I want to be sure that you don't freeze your tits off because you're too busy staring into space and thinking bad thoughts."
Folding her arms over her toweled breasts, she raises her chin.
"They'll hardly freeze off. It's still technically summer."
"Yeah, but they're very nice, so why take the risk?" Scratching my cheek, I glance at her short towel dress and wave her out the door. "Go and put some clothes on. Now that you've washed the snot off your face, you're back in danger of me going loopy."
Rolling her eyes, Stace heads for her room. I follow as slowly as possible, giving her plenty of time to dress on her own.
Poking my head around her door, I catch her staring straight ahead, frozen halfway through pulling on a sock.
"At least you got the most important parts on," I mumble, gesturing to her sweatshirt and pajama pants. Taking the sock from her hand and tugging it on properly before starting on the other one, I watch her carefully.
"I made you a sandwich too."
Taking the plate from her bedside, I put it in her lap. "It's just peanut butter and jelly, and I know you're probably not hungry, but we both know you'll feel better if you eat something. When I was quite sad, someone told me that even if I hated it, the food would at least keep my body going until my brain decided to check back in."
Stacey's eyes soften as she lifts the sandwich and sighs. "I couldn't even tell if you'd heard me."
"I heard." Pouring her a hot chocolate from the thermos I've bought upstairs, I set it on the bedside for her. "I didn't want to agree, given that I thought my body was a useless pile of flesh at the time, but I heard."
Pulling back the blankets to where she's sitting, I usher her to into bed.
"You know, auditions for the position of my new mom won't open up until she's taken permanent leave," she says, trying to smile as the tears begin to flow again.
Pulling the blankets up over her legs, I hand her the hot chocolate.
"Look at you, being so brave." Stroking her leg over the blanket, I nudge the hot drink towards her face until she completes the movement on her own.
"I charged your phone." I nod at the bedside table to where both her cell phone and the house phone are sitting. "I thought you might want them close by. In case the hospital calls or something."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. Do you want me to call your work and let them know you won't be in?"
She shakes her head. "I already called today. Fred said to take the week and call after that if I need more time."
"Good. I like this Fred of whom you speak. She sounds human. It's a good trait to have in a boss."
Taking another sip of hot chocolate, Stacey nods and then looks up. "Your boss isn't human?"
"Technically I'm self-employed, so..."
"Super-human then."
Snorting, I take the empty cup away from her. "Knew I shouldn't have added whiskey to that drink."
"You did not!"
"No. Sadly you're delusional all on your own. Now take at least three bites of this sandwich or I'll shove it down your throat."
Narrowing her eyes at me, she takes three bites in quick succession and tosses the sandwich back on the plate.
"Good enough. When you're done chewing lie down and get some rest."
"Or what?" Words muffled by food, she swallows quickly. "You'll make me?"
"You're tired and under stress. Sleep is good for both."
Sighing, she wriggles further under the blankets and curls up facing away from me.
"Don't you have anything better to do than to boss me around?"
"No." Pulling the covers right up over her shoulders, I tidy her hair back from her face, wishing I could lean in and kiss her forehead without being super-awkward. "Now get some rest." Hitting the bed as I turn too soon, I shake my head at myself for not paying enough attention to the maneuver when I should be disturbing her as little as possible.
Spinning to face me, Stace grabs my hand as I'm turning my chair again.
"You don't want to stay here? With me?"
Viewing her red-rimmed eyes and single bed, I turn back fully.
"It doesn't really matter if I want to. There are too many reasons why I shouldn't, including your tiny bed and what Ry might think of the situation. I'll be downstairs on the couch. If that's okay. I know you can look after yourself and all that, but I don't want to leave you guys alone. It's largely for my own peace of mind; which is probably selfish, but I'm not apologizing for it."
Relaxing into her pillows, Stace closes her eyes and nods. "You're right. I'm being stupid."
"I didn't call you stupid," I argue, rolling closer.
Her eyes cinch tighter. "I know. I said it. I'm not thinking straight."
Realigning her blankets, I lean forward and kiss her head now that she's moved into a good position. "You'll feel better after some rest. Goodnight Stace."
Her hand shoots out and grabs mine again as I make to rolls backwards.
"Would you just stay until I fall asleep?"
Smiling, I wheel in close. "Of course."
Tucking her hand safely back under the covers, I stroke her hair.
"Mmm. Keep talking and I'll go to sleep sooner."
"Should I be offended that you think my conversation so boring it puts you to sleep?"
"Shut up. I just want some ambient noise to fill my head instead of thinking about my mom dying and how rotten and responsible I feel. Will you just tell me a story or something?" she mumbles, snuggling in.
"Ah, okay. You want the one I read to Ry?"
"No. Something more adult and distracting. With some sort of a happy ending. Please."
Leaning back in my chair, I think a while. "Happy ending... hmm." Something adult and distracting...
"I could tell you about No-Handsky finding his perfect woman? Or how Scarlett brought Jackson's dick back from the dead?"
"Gross. I don't think I want to know about a dead dick. Go with No-Handsky. He did seem very happy when I last saw him."
Chuckling quietly, I get comfortable in a position where I can rub her leg through the blanket. "Okay. Well it all started one cold day last fall when Damon was wearing boxing gloves, and poor Alexa didn't realize he had no hands..."
SOME TIME IN THE NIGHT, I wak
e up to the sound of the phone ringing. Blinking several times to force my surroundings into focus, I pull my chair closer and pull myself into it. No middle of the night phone call can be good news.
Turning on the lights as I wheel to the bottom of the stairs, I'm about to make my way back up them when Stacey appears at the top. Almost in a daze, her feet almost fall before landing on each step. Miraculously walking down the stairs without incident, she stares at me when she gets to the bottom.
"What did they say?"
"She's worse. They've had to put her on CPAP to help her make the most of her pathetic little breaths, but she's deteriorating. They won't ventilate if she stops breathing on her own."
"You need to go in now?"
Stacey nods, her eyes rising back up the stairs.
"I can stay with him," I say, taking her hand. "We'll be fine. We'll have breakfast, talk, do some painting - it'll be good for him to get some feelings out," I add with an encouraging smile. "I can bring him in later, if you like. Or not. If you need time alone with her, I can watch him all day. Whatever you need."
Brows drawing together, she returns her gaze to me. Her eyes run over me in a way they never have before. Measuring my abilities.
Tightening my jaw, I raise my chin. "As long as Ry isn't a houseplant, I am very unlikely to kill him. If I have any trouble, I'll ask my mom to help out. Unless you think she did a shitty job raising me that is. I am capable of caring for another human."
Frowning more deeply, Stace looks at the phones in her hands. "I know."
"We'll just stay here," I add to reassure her. "No-one ever needs to know you left a crazy man in charge of your son, if that's what you're worried about."
She throws a phone at me. "Just because I've had to be wary of what other people think, doesn't mean that I've ever thought of you like that! You're being a jerk," she says, brushing past and pulling on the shoes she left at the door yesterday.
"You thought about it just then! I've seen the look enough times to recognize it. That makes you the jerk." Scooping up her other shoe and holding it out of reach, I point up the stairs. "Go and get dressed."
Looking down at her pajama pants she releases an angry growl, snatches her cell phone back and dumps the house phone in my lap before stomping back up the stairs.
She finds me in the kitchen and I hand her a strong coffee.
Tapping the side of the cup with her fingers, she eyes the contents as if her coffee might hold the apology she feels obligated to give me. "I don't think you're incapable. I just don't like relying on people in general."
"I know. But I'm not your dad, or some jerk that loves a shirt more than you, or fucks you and a bunch of other girls in a cupboard to pass the time. I never once ratted you out for all the dodgy shit you used to pull back in rehab; I was your willing partner in crime. I supported everything you did, because it taught me to see life in a different light. Which was very helpful to my soul at the time; not that I knew it back then." Sighing, I run a hand over my face. "If it helps at all, I have had several brain scans and not one of them showed a tumor. I'm here for you and you can rely on me, Stace."
Watching me over her coffee mug as she drinks, she eventually lowers it.
"Fine. I'll keep my phone on me. Ring me if you need anything."
"I will, but I got this, Stace."
Nodding, she rinses her cup in the sink and rubs her face as she exhales loud and long. "Have you seen my keys? I can't find them."
"I hid them and called you a cab because I don't want you crashing on the way there when your mind is all over the place. I slipped some cash in your bag for the fare so you don't have to worry about any of that stuff. Just go and be with your mom. Make your peace."
Stace stares at me a long moment. "Thank you."
"Thank you for trusting me." Glancing out the window, I see the lit sign of a cab pulling up out front. "Looks like your ride is here."
Grabbing my face, Stace lays a kiss on me. It's rushed, but sound.
"You're sure you're okay with this?" she asks as she pulls away.
"Positive. Go do what you need to do and let me know if and when you want Ry with you. I don't know what your thoughts are on letting him say goodbye, but I'll be right there to support you with whatever you decide."
Adjusting her bag on her shoulder, Stace frowns a little.
"You know, you're dedication is quickly turning this fun, little sneaking-around fling thing-y into something way more serious."
Running my tongue over my teeth, I avoid her eyes as I shrug. "I don't know if you think that's a bad thing, or not. And I've never thought of us as a fling, but if you want to talk about it later, I'll be around."
Stace squeezes her eyes shut. "I didn't mean..."
"It's fine. Go get in your cab. And tell your mom that I really did love her cookies. I don't feel like she every really believed me when I told her so. I'm sure she thought I was just being polite, even though I'd eat an entire plate of those choc-chip bastards in one afternoon."
Smiling, Stace brushes her cheek and sniffs.
"I'll let her know."
"Thanks." Raising my hand in farewell, I watch her smile grow a little bigger before she leaves for the front door.
Jogging down the path, she looks back as she opens her door. Raising her own hand, she ducks into the cab and it pulls away.
CHAPTER TWENTY
STACE
Sometimes I wish I wasn't so damn efficient.
Holding Mom's hand as her life faded, I was fairly certain I'd arranged my emotions accordingly, and that while sad, I'd come to accept her inevitable departure. When her heart actually stopped mid-morning, I was on my way back home before lunch, planning how I was going to tell Ry and working out how he'd be able to say goodbye to the woman who has been a huge part of his short life.
I thought I could practice breaking the news, by stopping by the church offices and letting Mom's friends and colleagues know. I'd have to tell them anyway, so it seemed a sound plan. Sort of a two birds, one stone kind of thing. I thought it was a good idea.
I was an idiot.
Stumbling from Alfred to our front door, I pause for another shuddering breath and cling to the frame as my legs threaten to give way. Forcing myself to open the door, I can't bring myself to step inside.
Brad rolls out of the utility room with a basket of laundry on his lap. As soon as he sees me, he sets it on the floor and rushes over to pry my fingers from the door and pull me into his lap. His hand runs in circles over my back as he holds me close, murmuring softly into my hair.
I break.
Not that I was especially holding it together to begin with.
His arms close around me more protectively.
"She's gone?" he asks quietly.
I nod into his shoulder.
"Ry's in watching cartoons," he says, stroking my hair back from my face. "You've got some time to prepare before you tell him. You want to tell me about it? It might make you feel better."
Twisting free of his arms, I sit up to see his face. Squinting at him, I shake my head.
"I'm not going to feel better," I sob, wiping my face and trying to find an ounce of composure.
"I didn't mean it like that," he says, reaching for me. "I meant that if you talk about it with me, you'll feel stronger about talking to Ry."
Pressing his lips together, he regards me carefully before lowering his hand. "Tell me something unrelated then. How was traffic? Which way did you drive home?"
My eyes well up again as the ache in my chest intensifies.
"I went to her office," I manage to say before another sob overwhelms me.
"Oh, Stace," he whispers, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. "That's a hard thing to do when your mom only just passed."
"I thought I could do it," I utter between sniffs and hiccups. "That it would make it easier to tell Ry... and I'd have to tell her friends some time."
Brow furrowed, Brad sighs and brings my hand to his lips.
"Stace, your mom died today. Everyone else could've waited. If any of those church ladies dumped their grief onto you, I'll be rolling down there to have a word. I swear to-"
He stops when I vigorously shake my head.
"What?" he asks, eyes huge.
"They were all lovely!" I say in a rush as my throat tightens again. My hands churn in the air as I try to get out what I want to say.
Brad tries to brush away my tears, but can't seem to keep up with production. "What happened?"
Sobbing and sniffing and wiping at my face with already-damp sleeves, I try to find my breath to tell him.
"There... is... no... Barry!"
Throwing my arms around Brad's neck, I cling to him; battered by raging waves of emotion.
His arms tighten around me and cut off the rest of the world. After the few curse words, all I hear are his low, soothing rumbles. Eventually, the wild sea of pain slowly begins to recede.
"I don't want to set you off again," Brad whispers eventually. "But what do you mean there's no Barry?"
Making several attempts at a deep breath, I finally choke out, "She made him up!"
Still in disbelief, I shake my head. "The guy she talked of as if he adored her, never existed. It was all a lie... Or a tumor-induced delusion," I add, my face crumpling into Brad's shirt. "No-one ever loved her!" I cry as the sobbing takes over again.
"You loved her," Brad corrects, as he bundles me closer and shuts the door. "And Ry loved her. She was loved." His soothing voice, paired with gentle hands, does a lot to ease the feeling in my chest.
"Even I liked her okay," he continues in a sober, yet playful tone of voice when my breathing becomes more even. "It was still too early in our relationship for me to use the L word, but I was on my way. Her cookies helped."
Groaning, I press my forehead to his jaw, trying to draw some strength.
"I don't think I'll laugh for a while," I whisper.
"I'll be right here with you while we wait," he whispers back.
THE WEEK PASSES IN a blur. Mom left us on the Tuesday and true to his word, Brad stood by Ry and me as we said our farewells.