The Brightness Duet: Complete Series Boxset

by Bri Stone

  Even with all his wires, and stitches, and medicine, he can still smile and make flowers grow.

  “Thom.” I smile softly as I shut the door.

  His frown fades and he smiles even wider. “Hey, Sparks.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three: Thom

  Mom had a thing for theatre in high school. She was good at pretending to be a dad, as she did every year for Fathers’ day.

  “You’re too old to get on my shoulders now.” She nudges me, I can barely see her face under her straw hat.

  “I go to high school and suddenly I’m too old?”

  “Well, maybe I should get on your shoulders then!”

  We laugh all the way back to the car.

  “So, dinner is at the house. You want a cake?” She asks me.

  The line is long coming out of the fair. The neighborhood did it every year, but it was nothing more than snow cones and hot dogs. Still, it was a nice thing to do for both of us.

  People still gave us weird looks, as if single mothers were unheard of. I respect my mother even more for it.

  “Cake? I hate cake.”

  “Oh, right. You like pie.” She rolls her eyes in mock annoyance. I shrug, but it’s true—I hate cake, and love pie. Lemon, cherry, key lime, chocolate, banana... mmm.

  “Pie it is.”

  We make the short drive to the grocery store and I pick out my favorite, key lime pie. So hard to choose sometimes.

  When we head home, we’re both surprised by the car in the driveway. Not because it’s a flashy Audi, but because Stan never said he was coming.

  “What’s Uncle Stan doing here?” I asked her.

  Mom sighs and pulls past him, into the garage. She always gets this look she doesn’t think I notice when he is around.

  “Don’t know. Get the bags, baby.” She jerks the key from the ignition and slams the door on the way out.

  I stay in the car for a second, watching briefly as her and Stan have a quick argument. She looks my way and I quickly get out with the bags.

  “Thom, hey!” Stan smiles. He looks very beachy, in linen shorts and salmon linen top. Honestly, it’s pink. But whatever.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” I knew he doesn’t have any family, but he is my ‘fake uncle’ so I have no idea why he is here on Fathers’ Day.

  Stan glances at mom, she frowns and snatches her hat off before taking the bags from me. “Fine.” She mutters to Stan, and leaves in the house.

  I’m taken aback, “uh...”

  “Women.” Stan chuckles nervously.

  He is always oddly calm, collected. I never saw him flustered until now.

  “You guys went out today huh?” He leans against his car, and I follow suit.

  I remember always trying to be like him when I was younger. Now going into my sophomore year, I think I am more like him than I want to be.

  “Yeah, to the fair. Mom does something for me every fathers’ day.” I look at him, and his gaze goes past me for a moment.

  “Were you close with your dad?” I ask him, curiously.

  “Uh, for the most part.”

  “What’s that mean?” I knew his dad was a hotshot lawyer, but nothing more than that.

  He laughs, “it means he paid attention when I was doing something right. He wasn’t a bad guy, except he had a kid for tax returns. An investment.”

  “That sucks.” But he doesn’t even sound bothered. I turn to face him. “Where is he? Why aren’t you with him?”

  He looks up his brow at me. “He died when I was in med school. He was older, about fifty when he had me.”

  “Wow. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Like I said, we weren’t close. He taught me a lot in the years he had though.”

  “What about your mom?”

  He almost laughs, but it doesn’t come off. His head shakes on its own, “my mom was an escort of his one night. He paid her off and kept me. Told everyone I was a love child. So, I never met her, and I never looked for her.”

  My eyes widen, and I don’t know what to say. That kind of stuff is beyond my years, but I try to understand just for him. “Well, we’re your family. Blood or not.” I shrug.

  He gives me a look, his eyes soften, and he almost smiles. I swear I see his eyes glisten, but it could be the sun setting. When I screw up my face at him, he clears his throat and comes back to.

  “That’s nice of you to say.” He murmurs.

  I smirk. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  He laughs and lets me off the hook.

  We don’t have a conversation like that until years later, after mom...

  When I’m moving in to my new apartment, he stops by with my first house warming gift. A flat screen television.

  “You know you have to study hard.”

  I roll my eyes. “I know. I want to make mom proud.” I add softly.

  He smiles kindly at me, crosses the room and stands in front of me. We match up in height since my growth spurt in high school.

  “She is.”

  I nod slowly. The pain of losing her is still raw, but I don’t want to cry anymore. I think I had cried enough in front of Stan. But he understood. He cared about her too, but he never showed me how he really felt. I think to spare me.

  “And... I wish my dad was here. Even though he never was. I wish he could just see I wasn’t a total lunk. I don’t know why he left, and mom never talked about him. I thought about looking for him, but he doesn’t really deserve it—I figured that out soon enough.” I sigh. “Anyway, I made it this far without him... but I still wonder why he didn’t want me.” I look at Stan, who regards me carefully, swaying on his feet a little.

  He swallows, starts to say something but seems to shift gears quickly. He claps my shoulder and squeezes. “Your dad is very proud of you, I promise.”

  PERRIE REGARDS ME CAREFULLY, looking for a safe place to touch me. I know she isn’t shying from the huge bandage down my chest, but just trying to be careful.

  “I’m not made of glass now, baby.” I give her my hand.

  She smiles, squeezes my hand and lifts it to her lips. She closes her eyes and lays her cheek against our hands. I fell the wetness of her tears before she sniffles.

  “I’m sorry.” She inhales sharply and lays my hand down.

  “Don’t be sorry.”

  She smiles sadly and sits on the side of the bed by my thigh. “There’s a lot to talk about.” she sighs.

  “Yeah...”

  “We can start with Stan, because you need to know something.”

  “He just told me.” I frown.

  The thought makes the system beep with my heart rate. I’m nearly fuming, but I have to stay calm because of the surgery.

  “No, I mean...” her voice shakes, and she takes a deep breath. “I’ve known for years. Since before we left for residency.” She blurts, an apology in her eyes.

  A lot goes through my head as I meet her gaze, and she regards me carefully. I feel like I should be hurt, for her keeping a secret, but it doesn’t last long and quite frankly, I think we’re even.

  “I’m not mad. But how did you know?”

  Her eyes soften, and her shoulders visibly relax. Perrie looks very professional in her cream blouse and blue slacks, she must have been at court before. Her short hair is pinned behind her ear, and it’s growing on me. I’m so lucky to have even gotten this chance.

  “Um... Thom, you two look very similar to each other. You even smell the same. Did you never... guess?”

  I almost laugh, because I honestly never did. “No.”

  “Are you mad at him? Don’t be mad at him...” she catches herself from telling me what to do.

  “I don’t know Perrie, you don’t know how many times I confided in him about feeling like my dad abandoned me. And he was right there!” I cough away my sore throat.

  She bites her lip. “I know, but did he tell you the whole story?”

  “What whole story? He just said that he was involved with my mom before
. That he made some mistakes.” I frown at the memory.

  “Well, he hurt your mother. And when she came back, she didn’t want you to know. Did he tell you that?”

  I exhale slowly. “No, he didn’t.”

  “Your mom had a small part in it too... look, I can’t tell you how to feel. But just give him a chance. And try to remember that he was always there for you.” Her soft eyes plead with me, and it’s hard to deny her anything.

  “Okay. Fine. I’ll talk to him later.”

  “Good.” She leans down and kisses my cheek. I flinch away only because I can taste last week in my mouth and feel like I smell like bed sores. “What?” She giggles.

  “Nothing. I just want a hot shower and a dentist.”

  She laughs and runs her fingers through my hair, her brows tightening as some comes out. The meds I’m on are intense, and I hadn’t even started the intense chemo and radiation yet.

  “You smell like yourself. With a little bit of hospital.” She licks her lips. I shake my head and rest my hand on her thigh.

  “Thom,” she gets me to look at her. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I could have been there with you...”

  “I didn’t want all that for you, Perrie. I didn’t want you to give up Paris or go and be worried about me the whole time. You didn’t sign up for all this.” I gesture to everything connected to me.

  “I signed up for everything that came with you a long time ago. And again, when I agreed to marry you and be yours forever.” Her voice saddens, and I swallow my own guilt back.

  “I still have the ring.”

  She smiles, “really?”

  I nod.

  Her tone gets serious again. “I know you didn’t cheat on me. Something always told me there was something more but... after all this, I know what you were trying to do.”

  “Damn.” I say, surprised she figured it out. And shocked I am that easy to read.

  “You are so dumb. I can’t believe you would rather have me hate you, than tell me you have—" her breath hitches.

  I swallow. “Lung cancer. That I have lung cancer.”

  She shakes her head, holds back a sob.

  “Stage three, as of today.”

  “Even with the surgery?” She whispers.

  I nod. “Yeah. They resected most of it. Hopefully the chemo gets the rest of it, and it doesn’t metastasize.”

  “So much hoping.” She murmurs.

  “Yeah. But... we have to be realistic, Perrie.”

  “No...” she reaches up to stroke my cheek.

  I nod. “Yes. I don’t want you getting too hopeful. Not seeing the facts. I’m at the same stage my mom was.”

  She swallows, a sob escaping her lips. She shakes her head so much her hair falls from the side hair pain. I take her hands and guide her head to the crook of my shoulder.

  “Shh, baby. It’s going to be okay.” I tell her as she cries.

  It’s a lie, one we always tell. As doctors; to families, and as people, to ourselves. Because it’s a lot better than saying I’m probably going to die soon.

  Chapter Thirty-Four: Perrie

  “It really isn’t fair.”

  “I don’t think you’re the one losing here, Sparks.”

  I sigh, sitting in front of Thom after one of his sessions. He has been doing intense chemo coupled with radiation for a month now. Tomorrow we find out just how well it’s working, but for now, we are just having a leisurely Saturday.

  Clem and Declan came to visit, and we had a nice dinner at home, so Thom didn’t have to strain too much. When we skyped with dad, it was difficult. For him to grasp all the changes, and the truth about our break up, but he came around and they were pretty much back to how they were years ago.

  Days off don’t come often for me since the trial has moved past its preliminary stages. But I no longer freeze up on the stand, so things are going smoothly; besides the poor victims. But my part in it was over, and now I just wait for a verdict. There is a new body from the decadence center almost every day, so I’m used to that. Hell, I’ve been used to dead bodies since my residency.

  “I guess not.” I check the clock, Melinda should be on her way.

  Things were going well with her, and she came every other weekend. She would never admit to wanting to spend time with Thom, her cover was that she came to support me. But they are friends, unique friends—but friends.

  “I expected it to happen soon enough.” He licks his lips, staring back at me.

  I shift on the couch and feel his thinning hair. He hadn’t lost all of his hair, but the way it was thinning just made him look different. Who looks good half bald? Thom does.

  “It isn’t bad, really.” I graze my fingers over the nape of his neck, where some hair hangs lose.

  “I thought we could go out and get some beanies though.”

  “You feel up to it?” He was weaker just after the treatments, but in a day or so his nausea passed, and he wasn’t fatigued.

  “Maybe later. But there’s something else.”

  “What?” I scooted closer to him on the couch.

  He takes my hand, tracing the back of my hand with his thumb. His touch is warm, electric. My body belongs to it now more than ever. It’s like the years apart from us strengthened our bond, made it unbreakable.

  “I want you to go somewhere with me. But I don’t want you to freak out and get... how you get.”

  “How I get?” I squeak.

  “Yes, how you get.” He smirks.

  “Okay. Where?”

  I can’t imagine where he would want me to go. We had talked about nearly everything important already. He was ghosting Stan, so he wasn’t staying in his apartment. It was better for him to be near someone that could take care of him, especially close after chemo. There were a handful of nights he was too weak to make it to the bathroom on his own or got nauseous. He needed me as much as I needed him, but the cancer made him need me in a different way.

  “One of the things I wish I had done was to prepare for the worst. When my mom got sick.”

  I swallow back the ever-present lump in my throat at the mention of his diagnoses.

  “And I wish I had. Because it would have hurt less. I don’t want to leave you blindsided,” he sighs.

  “Thom, I can’t do that.” I say softly. I lay my head against him, wrap my arms around his waist so I don’t have to look at him.

  “You can, and it will be better.”

  “You’re assuming you’re going to die, Thom. I can’t... think like that.” My eyes sting and its useless to hold the tears back. They stain his white Henley.

  “It’s not thinking like that, it’s just being ready to. When you lost your mom, there was no build up. You didn’t look at her everyday wondering if it were her last. Preparing for it. I did that, and now you’re doing it with me. I still have hope, and you do too—but that doesn’t mean we can ignore the negative side of things.”

  His words sink in, I nod my head slowly after and wipe my face. I lean up and kiss the corner of his mouth before I lay my forehead against his neck. I inhale his scent like it’s lost to me, filling my nostrils with him. His heat consumes me, and I dread the possibility of ever losing him. It would be the equivalent of losing a limb.

  He is right, that it isn’t like with my mom. This is all new to me. even as a doctor, my patients come to me dead already. I don’t know the journey, the process, or the emotions that come with it. My own mother died when just the night before, we were running across the beach.

  The rational part of me knows I need to learn it, but the part of me—a very big part, that loves Thom with all of my being just doesn’t want to.

  I inhale sharply, “Where are we going?”

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Thom

  I knew I had to come around eventually.

  I couldn’t explain how hurt I was, or shocked. I even felt a little bit betrayed. But when I see Stan again, I see the man who was always there. Took care of me. Taught me how to be a man a
nd told me it was okay to cry as he held me. I couldn’t blame him without knowing the whole story, and life was too short to shut him out.

  I leave Perrie by the front of the café as Stan and I take a walk around the block.

  “You feel okay?”

  I scratch over my beanie. “Yeah. I guess I’m just nervous about tomorrow. I know Perrie is too.”

  “I can imagine.” He clears his throat.

  Stan has come straight from a day charity picnic, so he is in a sports jacket, slacks, and dress shirt. But he always looked put together, like nothing was wrong. I envied him for that.

  About half a block later, I get lucky to find a bench and sit down. I exhale, rubbing my chest. The wound still hurts a little, but it was the contraction of my lungs that hurt. The surgery alone was a lot, but the pumping of chemo treatment after chemo treatment does a number.

  “I thought you said you were okay.” Stan laughs uneasily as he sits next to me. I wipe my clammy palms on my jeans and shrug.

  “Yeah, I lied.” I glance at him.

  He nods to himself. “I guess I know a lot about lying.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry, Thom. I really am.”

  “I can’t really be mad. It’s not like you showed up out of the blue. I mean, you always did your part and more.” I breathe out and remember all our good times.

  There were a lot, and I was lucky for that. He taught me how to swim, and how to fish; how to talk to girls, and how to convince mom to let me stay up late.

  “Who named me?” I ask.

  He chuckles. “I wasn’t there when you were born. I—” he rubs his jaw and I see regret in his eyes. “When your mom told me she was pregnant, I basically implied it probably wasn’t mine. She left, didn’t come back for a few years. I met you when you were five. In comes Uncle Stan, it was the condition. She never trusted me to not hurt her or you again. I don’t know if she ever did.”

  I clench my jaw at the thought because I truly don’t know. She never hated on him or talked bad about him. And mom was very opinionated.