Infraction

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “Nope.” I pointed to his girl. “That was all her. Apparently, she’s the queen of group texts, who knew?”

  “I did.” Jax straight-up rested his head against her neck, breathing her in for a few seconds before straightening.

  Kinsey’s hand was shaking in mine when her mom got up from her seat and shuffled toward us.

  Her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head slowly and whispered in a hoarse voice, “It’s probably best that we say good-bye.”

  Kinsey froze next to me. I sucked in a breath. “I don’t understand.”

  “He fell.”

  My blood chilled.

  “I called the ambulance. They got him here, and . . .” Her chin quivered. “The cancer’s spread into his lungs. The doctors have given him a week at most.”

  “But—” Kinsey stumbled away from me toward her mom. “We were supposed to have more time. He was supposed to be healthy just a little bit longer, right? Isn’t that why you guys stopped chemo?”

  Jax was at her side immediately, hugging her to his chest as she sobbed softly against him.

  My fingers itched to jerk her back against me, to comfort her like only I knew how.

  “Oh, baby.” Her mom joined them in a hug. “I don’t know why it happened this way, just that it did.” She swiped her fingers under Kinsey’s eyes where tears glistened. “He wants to see you . . .” Her gaze locked on mine and Harley’s. “All four of you.”

  Stunned, I could only nod my head and try to keep myself from breaking, so that Kinsey would have something solid to hold on to, when all I wanted to do was run.

  And in that moment, I felt like the person Jax had always accused me of being.

  The guy who ran.

  The intensity of the fear that chilled my body was so intense I started to get dizzy, and then Kins grabbed my hand.

  The anxiety left.

  And in its place, peace.

  My mom had always joked that I was her anchor in life—and I’d always joked that if I was an anchor I must be really heavy, and the exchange almost always ended with me telling her she needed to feed me more if she had such high expectations.

  We’d laugh.

  She’d pile my plate high, and we’d share a meal together.

  “This way.” Kinsey’s mom led us away from the group and down the hall.

  “Hey! Hey! Mr. Miller!” a small voice yelled in my direction.

  I stopped walking and looked down to my right. Marco was barreling toward me without crutches.

  He slammed against my leg, his arms wrapping around my thigh as though he was trying to squeeze me to death. “I knew you’d come back! I told my mama you’d come back, and she didn’t believe me! I even told my nurse!”

  I smiled despite the sadness at being there for all the wrong reasons, and knelt down so I was at eye level. “Well, look at that, you’re right! And I see you’re not using any crutches.” I held out my fist.

  He knocked it and giggled. “Yeah, well, I remembered what you said.” He leaned in and whispered, “About my heart being like a lion.”

  Tears filled my eyes. “Oh yeah?”

  He nodded vigorously. “And guess what?”

  “What, little man?”

  The rest of the group had stopped to watch the exchange; even the nurses’ station seemed frozen in time.

  “One night, I got really sick. Mama said I had an infection, and I almost died and guess what!”

  “What?” Damn, I could talk to this kid forever.

  “There was an angel! She had eyes like yours.” He touched my face and frowned. “And cheeks like yours! And a dimple right here.” He giggled. “And she said she knew you and that you would be really sad if I stopped being a lion! She asked me to rawr and I did, I rawred so loud, Mr. Miller! And she said that one day I was going to be just like you! Isn’t that so cool? And, oh boy, the music she sang was so pretty.” He started to hum.

  My blood completely chilled. It was the same song my mom used to sing to me at night when I was a child.

  “Almost forgot!” He giggled again. “She told me I was going to be okay, I just had to wake up, and fight, and so I did, and when she faded away, her little bracelet on her arm made a jingling noise. It had a heart and a red football—what football is red?” He shrugged.

  The kind I gave my mom when I was six.

  The kind she wore on her wrist until her death.

  The kind I could have sworn I buried her wearing—when I was asked to get clothes for the casket.

  I sucked in a breath and stared at the kid.

  Tears filled my eyes, I almost couldn’t get it out. He shook his head.

  I grabbed his hand and held it. “That bracelet must be magic.”

  A tear slid down his cheek. “I figured it was something cool, because the minute I woke up . . . Mom said I got better, you think she healed me? My destiny angel with the bracelet?”

  “Yeah, Marco,” I whispered hoarsely, “I think she did.”

  “Cool.” He nodded, his eyes bright with blissful innocence. “I thought so, Mr. Miller. Thanks for coming back to see me.”

  I made a promise to never let a week go by without seeing the kid. “Hey, you think it would be okay if I came by next week? You still gonna be here?”

  “Nope!” He rocked back and forth on his heels. “I’m gonna be better, so I can go to your game against San Francisco!”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  One of the nurses stepped forward. “Okay, Marco, it’s time for dinner. Why don’t you say good night to your new friend?”

  Marco wrapped his arms around me again and whispered, “Thank you for showing me how to rawr loud, Mr. Miller.”

  I could only nod, my voice was a wreck, my throat felt like it was on fire. He disappeared around the corner, and I turned to the nurses’ station. “Can I get his mom’s number, please?”

  “That’s against protocol.” She smiled sadly. “But if you give me yours, I can pass along the information.”

  I quickly jotted down my name and number then turned to Kinsey.

  She was crying.

  I imagined it was because of her dad and the whole situation just reminding her that even though Marco was okay—her dad wouldn’t be.

  I stared up at the group.

  Jax licked his lips and said in a hushed tone, “Something tells me you knew someone with a bracelet like that.”

  I smiled. “My mom.”

  Kinsey covered her mouth with her hands.

  Her mom let out a sob before reaching for me.

  And this time.

  This time I held her tight. As tight as I could.

  Panic didn’t overwhelm me.

  I didn’t think about running away.

  I didn’t think about the pain or the road ahead.

  I just held her.

  And she held me back.

  And then I was joined by Kinsey, Harley, and Jax.

  Minutes went by.

  And then, as natural as ever, my family broke apart, and walked with heavy hearts toward the room that said “Ben Romonov.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  KINSEY

  My dad didn’t look like himself.

  He was more pale than normal, and his lips were drawn back against his teeth like he was having trouble sucking in air and couldn’t quite get enough moisture in his mouth to lick them—or maybe he was just so exhausted he didn’t want to bother. What I was looking at was not my father.

  It was a shell.

  And in that moment.

  I wanted for him to have that peace.

  I wanted for him to be free.

  I wanted for him to let go.

  Because my father was gone.

  Amazing how death sneaks up on a person, how it changes even the shell of the body, making the person unrecognizable, maybe it’s the fact that the soul’s finally releasing its tendrils around the human heart, maybe it’s the soul that gives up first and realizes that this was never the plan, to l
ive with sickness—but to live free from it.

  Dad smiled up at us. “Anyone bring any cookies?”

  Harley handed over the plate and winked.

  “You keep this one, son.” Dad grabbed a cookie and lifted it to his nose and winked at Harley. “Smells like heaven. You add—” He coughed a bit. “You add extra butter?”

  Harley grinned down at him. “The trick is extra brown sugar and a bit of love.”

  Jax’s eyes filled with tears as he gripped her hand.

  “Mmm.” He lifted the cookie to his lips and took a small bite. “The sugar’s easy to taste, but the love? That stays with ya, doesn’t it, Harley?”

  “Yeah.” Her lips trembled. “It really does.”

  She touched her stomach.

  I frowned briefly then looked up at Jax.

  His hands followed hers.

  Like he was protecting her.

  Shielding her body?

  Or maybe I was just being hypersensitive and overemotional.

  I wasn’t sure if he was actively doing it or just doing it because that’s where her hands were at; my dad noticed too, his eyes doing that little calculating thing that meant he was thinking.

  My mom got busy straightening his pillows. He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Give me a few minutes with my kids.”

  Miller and Harley started to leave.

  He cleared his throat. “All my kids.”

  Miller froze.

  Harley let out a little gasp.

  “Sit.” Dad didn’t have to ask twice.

  All of us found spots around his bed, Jax sat on the corner, and I sat in Miller’s lap while Harley found the only other chair in the room and pulled it forward.

  “Now.” Dad grinned. “That’s much better. So, Jax, it seems like you’ve been keeping yourself busy off the field.”

  “Dad—”

  “Good for you, son.” He peered over at Harley. “He treat you right?”

  Jax cursed under his breath.

  “At first yes, then no, and now yes.” She winked. “We’re happy. So happy . . . even though he snores like an elephant and doesn’t flush the toilet.”

  “Right?” I chimed in.

  Dad cackled while Miller stifled a laugh behind his hand.

  “Thanks, Harley.” Jax rolled his eyes, then a smile formed behind his lips before he reached for her hand.

  “You kids will need each other.” Dad nodded. “Kinsey, you and Miller are going strong still, I see.”

  I grinned. “Yeah, well, I kind of love him.”

  “I know.” Dad shrugged. “Even when you tried not to.”

  I licked my lips and nodded.

  “Miller?” Dad frowned. “You done being a pansy-ass?”

  Jax laughed.

  “Yes sir.” Miller smiled wide. “I can safely say my pansy-ass days are behind me . . . I just had another reminder before we came in here that it’s better to have the heart of a lion. I had that heart once—before my mom died—and I think I finally just got it back.” He squeezed my hand. “And I have Kinsey to thank for that . . . and a certain little boy who’s walking out of this joint in a few days.”

  “Hah.” Dad placed half of his uneaten cookie back on the plate. I quickly grabbed the plate and set it on his tray for easy access.

  “Jax, I’m not dead yet. Try not to get into any fights this week, I’ll be watching. And Miller, you need to block a bit harder, give my son a few more seconds to throw to ya.”

  “Yes sir,” they both said in unison.

  “Now . . .” Dad crooked his finger, and we all leaned in. “Listen carefully . . .”

  I held my breath.

  “My body is giving up. But my soul is a fighter, so when I leave this earth, I want you to remember that even though my body’s broken, gone, dust, my soul’s free.” Tears filled his eyes. “You’re going to take shots of whiskey after my funeral. And I want cookies. Anyone brings your mom a lasagna, you throw it out! No casseroles either! I want joy! I want to go out the way I came in, buck naked and screaming. I want balloons, celebration, and I want to be buried with my fork.” He winked.

  “Your fork?” Miller just had to ask.

  “You’ve never heard that story?” Dad grinned. “A husband and wife were both dying. He said if he was to die first, he wanted her to bury him with his fork, you wanna know why?”

  “Because he liked pie?” Miller guessed.

  “Nope!” Dad’s grin widened. “Life is the main course, son . . . and after life? Well, that’s the dessert, and I’m not showing up to heaven—my dessert—without my fork. Makes absolutely no sense. A man has to be prepared about these things.”

  I rolled my eyes even though tears still filled them while Miller burst out laughing and nodded his head. “Alright then, a fork it is.”

  Jax and he shared a look.

  It was one of brotherhood. Of shared sadness.

  Of shared grief.

  In all my life, I’d never seen my brother touch another guy other than my dad. I wouldn’t call him cold. He was just reserved, controlled.

  But when Miller held out his hand to Jax on the bed.

  Jax took it.

  He squeezed.

  Jax didn’t let go.

  And suddenly I was so thankful that Miller was in not just my life, but Jax’s.

  “Alright, no more sadness,” Dad announced. “You kids scatter so I can get some sleep before Paula comes in here and fluffs another damn pillow.”

  We all said our good-byes.

  I kissed him on the forehead.

  “You did good,” he whispered.

  “Yeah, I did.”

  We were almost out the door when Dad said, “Miller, a word, son.”

  Jax slapped him on the back.

  Reluctantly I released his hand, shut the door, and waited.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  MILLER

  “Something’s been bothering me,” Ben said in a casual tone. “Wanna know what it is?”

  “I’m sure you’re going to tell me regardless, so go ahead.” I took a seat and offered him a polite smile as I leaned down and folded my hands to keep from doing something stupid like grabbing his and crying like a little boy over the fact that the woman I loved was losing her dad and the only thing I could do about it was watch.

  “You talked with Kinsey and Jax, naturally they talk to their mom, and their mom talks to me.” He shrugged. “We’re talkers.”

  “Everyone but Jax.”

  “Hah!” He laughed. “He’s more of a thinker.” He took a deep breath. “Your mom . . . Kinsey says she died suddenly.”

  I’d literally only talked to Kinsey about my mom a handful of times. Suddenly guilty, I nodded.

  “Did you ever mourn, son?”

  I shook my head. “No, but I’m getting better.”

  “Not good enough. Not for me. Not for her. It’s okay to hurt here.” He touched his chest. “And to remember them here.” He pointed to his head. “But to let it cripple you, turn you into the opposite of the man she wanted you to be . . . I’m not saying that’s what you’re doing.” He gave a weak shrug. “But, that’s not fair to you, not fair to the life she gave you. I think, before you can fully love my little girl, you need to let go of the only other woman who’s ever truly held your heart.”

  Stunned, I just stared at him.

  “And that woman was your mama.” He shrugged again. “I know nothing about your past relationships, but I’m assuming that none panned out quite the way you wanted them to—and with Kinsey, well, I see forever in my girl’s eyes, so I want you to do me a favor.” He leaned forward. “When she lets me go, you let your mama go too. You mourn together. You cry together. You grieve together. I think maybe we were put in your life for a reason. I think maybe this is your chance to move beyond something that happened to you when you were too young to understand, too young to deal with it.”

  Tears filled my eyes. I looked away.

  “And when you’re done grievi
ng, I need you to ask Paula for her mother’s ring . . . so you can put it on my daughter’s hand.”

  “I haven’t asked yet.”

  “You will.”

  “I will.” I sniffed. “You know I will.”

  “So, you gonna ask permission? Or do I need to beat it out of you?”

  I laughed through my tears. “Ben Romonov, may I have the honor of marrying your daughter?”

  He looked at me straight in the eyes and whispered, “The honor is all mine.”

  I didn’t mean to move.

  Just like I didn’t mean to wrap my arms around his frail body and squeeze.

  And when the tears came.

  He hugged me.

  And said something that I’d been dying to hear for the past six years since my mom’s death.

  “She would be so proud of you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  JAX

  Miller and Kinsey went to grab a bite to eat while I made sure my mom had everything she needed for the night. She refused to leave his side. I didn’t blame her, couldn’t blame her since I wanted to do the same thing.

  But according to my dad, I had rough practices and an even tougher game later that week, and since I made a promise to win and stop getting into fights, I knew it was time to go.

  I held Harley’s hand and walked her all the way to my car.

  I wasn’t sure what to say.

  Words seemed so . . . inappropriate in this kind of situation. Thank you for making cookies for my dying dad didn’t quite cut it either.

  Thanks for holding my hand when all I wanted to do was break.

  Thanks for being you.

  Thanks for not running away.

  I clamped my lips together the entire ride back to my apartment. Not even thinking that she might want to go home.

  Thankfully, Harley didn’t protest. Simply dropped her purse onto the countertop of my pristine granite and then reached for my body.

  She pressed her head against my chest and whispered, “I know you’re not okay, so I’m not going to ask if you are. . . but what can I do to help you prepare for practice tomorrow? The game this week? Laundry? Cook? Clean?”

  I grinned down at her. “You know how to do laundry?”

  She pinched me in the side. “I know how to do a lot of housekeeping things. For example . . .” I exhaled while she moved around to my washer. “I know that this is the start button, I know that if I use cold water I can get stains out of the chocolate variety, and I know that even when a person’s sad, they still need food.”