On the way to Sea Wind, Ellen informs me that Aunt Susan has been moved to a hospice. She gives me the address, which I relay to Luke who is driving. The grief in Ellen’s voice sends ice cold shards of dread into my mostly numb body. I try to keep my mind peacefully blank for now—I have to because I don’t think I can handle facing it. I can’t stop shaking. I can’t believe this is happening. I just talked her last week. How could she…?
The only thing keeping me together right now is Luke’s calming presence next to me. There’s no way I can do this on my own. I would—I don’t know what I would do without him here with me.
The hospice looks more like a home than a facility. It’s a sprawling one story ranch style house up on a hill near the beach. There are flowers growing everywhere, and perfectly manicured hedges line the whimsical seashell path to the front door. It looks like something out of a fairy tale. The kind of place Aunt Susan would have loved…
We park at the curb, behind Bran’s car. I get out just fine, but then I’m rooted to the spot. I plaster myself against the car door, staring fearfully at the house. My knees are locked together.
“I can’t,” I say to Luke when he comes around to my side. “I don’t want to go in there.”
Luke takes my ice cold hand in his and squeezes it reassuringly. “I know you don’t want to,” he says softly, holding my gaze with his. “But you will, because you’re strong enough to handle it.”
I take several deep breaths, keeping my eyes on Luke and trying to draw courage from him steadiness. Though I’m not ready, I give a sharp nod. He smiles back warmly, and I let him lead me to the house.
It doesn’t smell like a hospital inside—that’s the first thing I notice. There is a pleasant lemony scent that greets us as we step into the reception area. Luke speaks to the scrubs-clad man behind the desk. I spot Connie and some of Aunt Susan’s side of the family in the waiting area that is made to look like a cozy living room. My eyes pass over them in a daze.
Luke signs us in while I head toward Julia who is beckoning me over. She envelopes me in a strawberry-scented hug while I remain stiff and unmoving in her arms, looking over her shoulder to the hallway that I’m sure leads to the rooms.
“She’s in the first room on the left,” Julia tells me. “Go ahead, Andi.”
I’m walking through a nightmare. My legs take me to the door before I’m ready to go. It’s nice and airy inside. It smells like flowers. I should have brought some—why didn’t I think of that?
Aunt Susan is lying on a hospital bed, and she is so small and so still. The first thing that strikes me is the lack of medical equipment. Of course I know what a hospice is, and what it means. It’s just…jarring. She needs her oxygen. She must be struggling to breathe right now. What if she’s not ready to go, and they’re just letting her be in pain?
I haven't cried in years. I've always thought it would require a huge effort. But tears roll down my cheeks like someone's turned on a faucet. I drift over to her bed and fall noiselessly into a chair. I take her hand, and it's so incredibly soft. I’ve never held her hand before, not that I can remember. I’m afraid to touch her anywhere else. Her skin looks as fragile as tissue paper; somehow waxy and just wrong. Her fingers are slack and cold, and I cup them in both of my hands to warm them.
Aunt Susan’s eyes are closed, but I can’t tell if she’s sleeping. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, like she’s trying to solve a difficult math problem. Maybe it’s because she’s having trouble breathing. Her mouth is open, and her upper body hitches in a hiccupping motion every time she takes a breath. Why are they letting her suffer like that? Why can’t they…god, I don’t know.
Talon is curled into a fetal position, lying at the foot of his mother’s bed. I can’t tell if he’s asleep either. He seems restless and feverish, grimacing every so often though his eyes remain closed. Poor kid. He’s too damn young for this.
I finally notice the others in the room. Megan and Bran are sitting on a couch across the room. She’s crying softly and he has his arm around her, comforting her. He looks up at me and smiles slightly in greeting. I nod and try to smile back.
I don’t even notice Uncle Charlie sitting in the chair against the wall until he stands up. I gape at him in shock, badly frightened. For the first time in a long time, I mistake him for my dad.
He gives me a hug. “Thanks for coming, Andi,” he says in a hoarse voice.
“I—of course.” I surreptitiously wipe at my wet cheeks. “Um, is she…how is she?”
Uncle Charlie looks away, rubbing the gray stubble on his jaw. “She’s been sleeping most of the time. They’re giving her morphine. For the pain.”
He makes a funny snorting sound as he chokes back a sob. It’s painful to watch this strong quiet man who looks so much like my father trying not break down. I should comfort him somehow, but my mouth is clamped shut. What do I say to make him feel better about having to watch his wife die?
“Talk to her,” Uncle Charlie tells me, patting my shoulder. “She’s been waiting for you.”
He goes over to Megan and Bran, giving me some privacy. I turn back to Aunt Susan, squeezing her hand gently. She stirs a little when I awkwardly clear my throat.
“Aunt Susan?” I lean forward over her.
She makes a soft grunting noise. Her eyes are light filled slits. Her fingers move a little.
“I love you,” I blurt out in a broken voice. “I’m sorry I never told you before.”
A dreaming smile touches her beautiful dear face. “Andi…love you…always.”
It’s the last conscious thing she says.
It takes three days. Constant streams of visitors pass through. Uncle Charlie won’t budge from her side, and Talon throws a horrible screaming tantrum when I try to take him home. It’s amazing to see how loved my aunt is. She’s surrounded by friends and family, her room filled with light and even laughter as everyone shares loving stories about her. There’s so much grief, but also a peaceful acceptance. Everyone’s ready to let her go. I feel it, and I hate myself for it.
I’m there when she finally takes her last breath. Sobs break out in the room, and they turn to each other for comfort. I walk out of the room, and into Luke’s waiting arms.
The funeral is torture. I feel like I’m suffocating the whole time. It’s unbearably uncomfortable sitting in the front and receiving condolences from a long line of people. Does everyone wonder what I’m doing up here with the immediate family? I want so badly to make a run for it. I keep an appropriate smile on my face while I’m screaming bloody murder on the inside. If Megan and Talon can stand it, I sure as hell should be able to. Talon is as still and remote as a statue; he stays silent and glued to his father’s side. Poor little man. He’s trying so hard to act tough right now.
Megan isn’t much better off. She’s a lost little girl sobbing for her mother. I think about how sad it is that her baby won’t ever get to meet its grandmother. I’m sure that thought’s already occurred to her. I was too young to think about things like that when my parents died. I really don’t want to think about it now.
I last through to the reception for formality’s sake, and then I just can’t take it anymore. I feel like I’m going to fly apart. Luke takes me away without me having to ask. We just drive aimlessly for a while. Neither of us ate anything at the reception, so he goes through a drive-thru. I’m surprisingly hungry, and devour my greasy fried chicken like it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever had.
We end up at the beach. It’s dark out and there’s no one else in sight. Luke spreads a blanket out on the sand, just beneath the overhanging bluffs so we’re sheltered from the light wind and the rest of the world. We sit next to each in companionable silence, enjoying the sounds of the crashing waves.
After a while, Luke nudges my leg with his. “You alright, Tiger?”
“Yeah.” I dig my bare feet into the cool sand and pull Luke’s jacket tighter around my shoulders. “I was just remembering when I was l
ittle, and I used to think that dolphins were reincarnated souls. I saw one up close once at Sea World, and we just stared at each other through the glass for the longest time—I swear it was my dead great grandma looking back at me.”
He coughs out an absolutely adorable laugh as he turns to me. “What made you think it was her?”
“She winked at me.” I shrug nervously, keeping my eyes on the water.
“Can dolphins wink?”
Instead of answering him, I blurt out, “My parents didn’t die in a car crash. They were murdered.”
I stare down at my fingers twisting together on top of my bent knees. Before Luke can respond, words start pouring out of me in an inarticulate gush.
“This guy—he broke into our house one night when I was sleeping over at a friend’s. He was a junkie. He shot them while they were sleeping in bed. He—he didn’t even steal anything. He just emptied a clip into them—and then he sat in the kitchen until the cops came. Yuna—our neighbor—called them when she heard the gun shots. She was my mom’s best friend. She was the one who came and got me, and she told me...She wanted me to live with her, but I didn’t like her. I’m pretty sure she had a weird sexual thing going on with my parents.”
I finally look up at Luke. His golden green eyes are focused intently on me like his life depends on it. “The guy who did it? He killed himself afterwards. He shot himself in the head before the cops could take him down. That’s somehow worse—that he’s dead, you know? Because I don’t have anyone to hate for what happened. I wish he were still alive and rotting in a prison cell so I could think about him sitting there—and think about the ways I could kill him if he ever got out.” I let out a shuddery laugh. “I guess that sounds messed up, huh?”
Luke shakes his head. “Anyone would feel the same way.”
“I’m sorry I lied about how they died. I just…it was easier for me to pretend that—that—”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He puts his hand over my trembling restless fingers, stilling them. “Come here.”
He gathers me into his arms and I let him, inhaling his expensive cologne and wishing there was a way I could absorb myself into him. I knew...deep down I knew I would become like this if I ever let myself go with him.
“I can’t talk about it,” I choke out. “I hate remembering.”
I feel him kiss the top of my head. “You don’t have to. Megan told me. But don’t be mad at her, okay? She thought I already knew.”
“I’m fine.” I gently extricate myself from him, wiping at my eyes though no tears have fallen. I guess I used them all up. “I can’t…I never really dealt with it, you know? I just try not to think about them because when I do, I feel this—this terrible rage. I don’t know what to do with it.”
“You don’t have to explain it to me, Tiger. I get it.” Luke gives me a look of complete understanding. “You have to have an outlet for it, or it starts to fuck you up. Hating someone takes up a lot of space. It consumes you and closes you off so nothing else can come through. You hold on to that hate too tight and you don’t have room for anything else.”
The way he says it—I know exactly what he’s talking about. I stare into the green gold depths of his eyes, and they look like they hold the universe. “So how do I get it out?” I ask in a low voice.
“You don’t.” Luke gives a small shrug. “Look, you can’t change the past. It's pointless to waste even an ounce of energy on something you can't do anything about. Instead of being bitter, be, passionate. Live harder; be fearless.”
I’m quiet for a long time, staring up at the clouded sky. “You want me to be more like you?” I finally ask. I look back at him. “Is that why you’re the way you are?”
Luke raises an eyebrow, moving closer to me. “And how am I?”
“I don’t know. You live your life at a hundred and twenty miles an hour,” I say in a rush. “All the drinking, the suicidal hobbies…the sex. It’s like something’s chasing you, driving you to push everything to the extreme.”
Luke holds my gaze for several intense seconds. Then he looks away, shaking his head. “I’m not running from anything, Tiger. And I definitely don’t want to kill myself. I just want to feel…free.”
I turn my body to face him. “Being fearless makes you feel free?”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
I study him, his beautiful profile, the way he seems so comfortable in his own skin. The resting strength of him. My smile trembles around the edges. “I want to feel free, too,” I say softly. “Right here, right now.”
I keep my gaze steady until Luke’s brow furrows in confusion. Then his eyes widen. “What, you mean—?”
“Yes.”
Luke lets out a shaky laugh, breaking eye contact. “Andi. This isn’t the right time or place. We’ll talk about it later, okay?”
I shake my head. Shrugging off his jacket, I get up on my knees, and very deliberately start to unbutton his shirt. “I don’t want to talk. Be fearless with me, Luke.”
“Come on, Tiger. You’re not—”
I press my lips against his, cutting off his protests. He immediately responds, putting his hands in my hair and tilting my head so he has better access to my mouth. Our tongues entwine, and Luke lets out a muffled groan.
He leans back slightly, breathing hard. “You sure you want this? Right here, like this?”
“Let’s go a hundred and twenty,” I whisper, and reach for his belt buckle.
There’s no talking. Just this frantic need to undress each other down to bare skin. I need to feel all of him. Hands, lips, teeth, tongue. I can’t get enough, I want him everywhere. We set a fast and furious rhythm that matches our pounding hearts. I open my eyes, and all I see are stars.
This is what I want. This is what I need. On the night of my aunt’s funeral, on a public beach, with the one and only Lucas Greyson. I can’t explain it, and I don’t want to. All I know that this is exactly right for our first time. We come together like we don’t have a choice, any sounds we make drowned out by the violent turbulence of the ocean. At the end, he says my name over and over again, our minds and bodies entwined.
It’s the most perfect moment in time.
Chapter 28
I hear New Zealand is absolutely beautiful. I wouldn’t know.
I don’t leave the phenomenal villa Luke’s arranged for us to stay in. For the whole month, I just shut down. I’m in stasis mode at the moment. I’m taking a year off from school; I have no plans, no thoughts for the future. I’m not doing anything. And I don’t even care.
The only time I come alive is when we’re having sex. We don’t go anywhere, or do any of the things he talked about doing. We barely even talk. As soon as Luke walks back through the door, I launch myself at him. Half the time we don't even make it to the bedroom. Other people could be around, but we only ever notice each other. Once, we forgot Nate was in the room with us—the pervert stayed quiet and got himself some popcorn to enjoy the show. Fortunately Luke noticed and kicked his ass out before any clothes came off.
When I’m with him, I’m completely possessed by him. It’s madness. I can’t understand it. Shouldn’t it be easier after you finally do it, and get rid of some of that sexual tension? I’ve always understood that if you love someone, you never let them go until it kills one of you. Or was it that you never let go until one of you dies? Is this love? It can’t be. Love is hearts and rainbows, and dopey pink emotions. This—whatever this is—is painful. It’s got teeth and claws, and takes bites out of my heart.
Luke thinks that I’m going to follow him around the world, and he’s right. He wanted me, and now he’s stuck with me. I am done fighting it, and pretending that he’s not all I need in my life. The only thing I’m certain I want for myself in the future is Luke. I realize that I don’t have to give up my plans; I just have to adapt them a little. And if it doesn’t work out with him, I will have my revenge. I mean, I will let him go and wish him the very best.
We’re b
ack in L.A. for about a week before Luke has to go to North Carolina to resume shooting. I’m stuck in a hotel right now with Micah, thanks to the stupid paparazzi. I guess I’ve been found out. Luke is amazed that I’m handling it so well. I’m taking the philosophical approach since I knew this would happen eventually. Besides, I haven’t gone out lately, and I know better than to look myself up on the internet. It’s not that I don’t love being called a skanky, gold-digging, fame whore—because I kind of do. I just don’t like seeing candid pictures of myself. Fortunately for me, there are very few of those floating around in cyberspace at the moment. I have never liked having my picture taken. Also, I realize that the only interesting thing about me is my parents’ murder—and that it’s only a matter of time before they dig that info up. If they do, they do. I’m not going to read about it.
Micah is still pissed about the San Diego thing. He’s been giving me the silent treatment, which is kind of hilarious from an ex-military, thirty five year old, grown man. It’s okay. I deserve it, and I enjoy the solitude. I’m getting better, I hope. I’ve been allowing myself to think about Aunt Susan, and my parents. I look through old pictures on my laptop, and remember happier times. God, I forgot how pretty my mom was. People used to say we looked alike, but she had so much more personality and sparkle in her smile than I ever did. There’s a picture of my dad and Uncle Charlie making faces at the camera—and it’s weird but when they’re side by side like that, you can easily tell who’s who. My dad had a scar that looked like an extra dimple in his right cheek. I can’t believe I forgot about that.
I should call Uncle Charlie. I haven’t talked to him since the funeral. Talon has been calling me a lot lately. We talk about his upcoming birthday and starting school. He mentions his mom now and then, but doesn’t like to dwell on her for too long. I even text Megan and Bran a few times. They’re both busy with classes at the nearby community college, and getting ready for the baby. Bran tells me Megan is depressed, though she does a good job of hiding it. I’m genuinely glad that she has him to take care of her. I have no doubt that he’ll be there for her every step of the way. It’s funny how things work out. Not so long ago, I wished them nothing but chlamydia and misery. While I’m not exactly doing cartwheels over the happy couple, I do hope they make it.
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