Only One I'll Have (UnHallowed Series Book 4)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Chay wasn’t the giggling type.

  “What are you running from, sweetie?”

  Her mother’s voice pulled her attention away from the couple and the past, dumping her back into the present, which wasn’t any better. “Nothing, Mom. I’m not running from anything.”

  Ellen snickered, and a sly smile curled her lips. “Not even from that hunk of a man, Chay?”

  Sophie didn’t know whether to scowl or blush.

  “Touchy subject.” Ellen slurped a spoonful of her soup. “Isn’t he from Detroit? That’s a long way to go for a beer.” Her brow lowered knowingly.

  Florida was a quick trip through the shadows for an UnHallowed, Sophie wanted to say, yet refrained. “His reasons for being in Jacksonville are none of my concern.”

  Her phone rang. Speak of the devil! Her thumb hovered over the reject button. Though it wasn’t like him to call when he could show up, especially now that the sun didn’t bother him.

  “Everything all right?”

  Sophie nodded to Ellen and tapped the green button. “Hello?”

  There was a pause on the other end, then Chay’s raspy voice reached across the distance separating them. “Scarla’s been injured.”

  She couldn’t have heard him correctly. The anguish in Chay’s voice had Sophie pushing away from the table and heading to a quieter area on the balcony. “What did you say?”

  “Scarla has been hurt.”

  The air whooshed out of her lungs. First her Mom. Now, Scarla. “How?”

  “Cage fight,” he growled.

  She shook her head in disbelief. “That’s not possible. Scarla’s indestructible.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Nothing Chay said made sense, but she wouldn’t argue with him, not when his concern screamed at her through the phone. “How bad?”

  “Bad enough,” he bit out. “She’s asking for you.”

  Her heart skipped. “S-she isn’t dying?”

  “No. She’ll heal, though it will take a while. Braile’s essence didn’t only change the UnHallowed. It changed her too. She’s more human than UnHallowed. Damn it, Sophie, she’s almost completely human.”

  Sophie’s knees weakened, and she had to lean against a nearby wall.

  “She’s asking for you, Sophie.” The pleading note in his voice transmitted through the phone. In her mind, she could see the worry, the strain of not being able to fix what he couldn’t control. He felt helpless and God, could she sympathize. Nothing was more frightening than watching a loved one suffer, helpless to do anything to make them better. In Chay’s case, helpless to fix it.

  Sophie swept her bangs off her forehead and massaged her temples. She wanted to be there, for him. For Scarla. Her best friend needed her, but there was no contest between where Sophie needed to be. “I’m at the hospital with my mother. She has cancer, Chay. I-I think it’s bad, I feel it in my gut. Scarla has you and the UnHallowed. My mom only has me.”

  The silence on the other side was a knife in her heart.

  “I’m sorry, Sophie. So damn sorry. I can be there in a few hours. I don’t want to leave Scarla so soon. She’s refusing to go to the hospital. I can’t take her through the shadows because it may…fuck, it would kill her, especially in her condition.”

  The knot in her chest tightened to a vise squeezing her heart. “No. You’re where you should be, as am I. Stay and take care of Scarla. Call me if anything changes.”

  Another stretch of silence had her on edge, then his voice came through the phone, low, angry, with a trace of something she couldn’t name. “You shouldn’t be alone. I need to be there to protect you. I’ll be there in a few—”

  “You’re not listening,” she hissed, beyond frustrated. “I don’t want you here. I can’t deal with you and my mother and cancer all at the same time. I just can’t. So, stay there and take care of Scarla. Please.” She spotted Ellen rising from her chair and pointing at the watch on her wrist. “I have to go. Mom has an MRI appointment. Tell Scarla I love her and I’ll talk to her soon.” She hung up without waiting for his reply.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The MRI of her mother’s chest took thirty minutes, then came the long wait for the results. They sat in the oncology waiting room, the saddest place she’d ever been. Not the patients. She referred to their family members. Those poor haggard individuals were worse than their cancer-stricken fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, or friends. Sophie knew exactly how they felt.

  No. Some had a resigned, fatalistic demeanor to their weary eyes. She wasn’t there yet, which brought her to the question she hadn’t asked. “Why hasn’t Bobby come to your appointments?”

  Ellen’s watery gaze shifted from studying her folded hands resting in her lap to Sophie. “He came a few times, in the beginning.” Her thin chest rose and fell on a deep inhale. “It became too hard for him.”

  Sophie blinked. Once. Twice. She needed the extra time to find the right words, and failed. “Too hard for him? You’re the one with fucking cancer.” Her voice carried over the tasteful music playing subtly in the background, and across the waiting room.

  Ellen’s apologetic gaze darted around the room. “Everyone handles things like this differently,” she hissed.

  “Abandonment isn’t handling it differently,” Sophie hissed back. Something struck her, a lightning bolt to the forehead. The uber-neat house and her mother’s bedroom without a single picture of the happy couple, not even a wedding picture was displayed. She glanced at her mother’s finger devoid of her wedding rings she had to remove for the MRI. There wasn’t a tan line around the left fourth finger.

  Nausea caused a sickening roll of her stomach. That bastard.

  “Mrs. Garner.”

  Rage diverted, Sophie followed her mother and the nurse, this time to the doctor’s office at the end of the corridor. It was a standard office with soft blue walls and furniture that was a slight upgrade from the functional furniture in the waiting room. The only perk, it had a beautiful view of the traffic whizzing by on the interstate as it flowed over the St. John’s River.

  Her mother sat closest to Dr. Lacey, while Sophie scooted her chair back, preferably all the way back to the waiting room if she had her way.

  “Well, we got your results back from the MRI and the blood work you did last week.” The doctor cut to the chase, Sophie would appreciate that later. Right now, she wanted more time, a year, or better two. Then she remembered the time wasted, the time not talking to each other, time they could never get back. “There are some issues I’m concerned about,” the doctor continued.

  That was the last thing Sophie understood. While Ellen nodded and seemed to comprehend all the medical jargon, all Sophie heard was a high-pitched whine reverberating inside her head.

  “There’s an area in your right lung that wasn’t present on your last scan. Also, the scan picked up an area in your right breast.”

  A fog enveloped Sophie’s mind, which drowned everything except her utter panic. Pulmonologist and biopsy filtered through the white noise drowning her senses. She had no sense of what either meant, yet Ellen sat with dry eyes, nodding to everything the doctor said, her placid face a shade whiter than when they entered the office.

  “Mom?” Ellen shifted in her chair and gave Sophie her attention. “Do you understand everything he’s saying?” Because she certainly didn’t.

  Ellen reached across the short distance separating them. Bony, arthritic fingers gripped Sophie’s hand with surprising strength, her gaze unflinching. “The cancer has probably spread to my lungs, but we won’t know until the biopsy.”

  Air exploded out of Sophie’s mouth, to be dragged back inside on a spastic sob. Next, she was in her mother’s arms, receiving the comfort she should be giving her, not the other way around. She held on, clinging to her mom, a child once again, the woman she’d become temporarily gone.

  Somehow, she managed not to cry and pulled herself together. How, she couldn’t say, nor how long they clung to each oth
er, until her mother carefully extricated herself from Sophie’s arms.

  The phone on Dr. Lacey’s desk rang. He answered, then listened for a moment. “I’ll be right there.” The door opened, and Karen filled the doorway as he hung up. “Karen will get you set up with the pulmonologist. Any more questions, please give me a call.” He raced out of the room and down the hallway to an examination room.

  Ellen took her hand and lead Sophie out of the room. They followed Karen to the receptionist desk where she asked about her mother’s prescriptions, gave Ellen the information for the pulmonologist and said his office would call about an appointment tomorrow.

  All so cut and dry.

  She had to get Ellen home, then she’d head to the nearest bar. She hadn’t been drunk in years. Tonight, that would change.

  They left the oncology suite, both silent as they navigated the hallways back to the elevator.

  “I hope they haven’t towed you,” Ellen murmured, the first words she’d spoken since leaving the office, which was a repeat of what she had said when they entered the hospital.

  Sophie sighed, exhaustion riding her. She couldn’t summon the energy to be concerned. If the damn car was gone, so be it. She’d carry her mother on her back, somehow, they would get back home.

  Her mother had to be hungry. She’d barely eaten her lunch. Takeout, definitely. Ellen liked Chinese. There had to be a restaurant that delivered close to her house. Sophie stuck her hand into her purse, searching for her car keys and couldn’t find them.

  Ellen kept walking, shuffling really, down the hallway, toward the emergency department up ahead. Sophie slowed, her hand rooting around the dark interior of her purse. “Hold up,” she called after her mother, but Ellen kept shuffling along.

  Annoyed, Sophie yanked the purse open and shook the contents. She caught the glint of the key and snatched it out. Jogging to catch up to Ellen, Sophie found her standing off to the side of the room, her face stricken with such pain. Sophie froze, momentarily panicked. The stoicism her mother had shown in oncology was erased. All of it must’ve finally hit her, Sophie assumed. Throughout the entire day, throughout the MRI and the test results, Ellen hadn’t even murmured a sob. Seeing tears race down her cheeks now startled Sophie.

  “Mom? Are-are you in pain? Should we go back to the doctor?”

  She shook her head and opened her mouth, and a broken cry came out. She wouldn’t look at Sophie. “What is it?” Gently, she shook her mother to gain her attention. Ellen looked around Sophie, her gaze locked on something.

  Sophie turned and tracked her mother’s gaze to a pregnant woman being wheeled to the triage desk. Slumped back in the chair, clutching her distended belly, the woman screamed, “I told you I was in labor and you didn’t fucking believe me. Do you believe me now, Bobby!”

  Instead of answering, Bobby patted her on the shoulder. The woman sunk her fingernails into the bags of his hand, and grinned when he howled and snatched his hand back. But then, she doubled over, clutching her stomach, and moaned, “Contraction. Contraction. Contraction.”

  Sophie’s gaze locked onto Bobby, the realization slowly dawning as she took in his features, the same features she saw in the single photo in her mother’s living room. “Bobby Garner.” Sophie shouted the name because she wanted to be certain he didn’t miss it.

  “What?” He jerked around with a scowl and did a double take when he spotted Ellen. “What are you doing here?” No concern for his wife who has cancer. Hell, why on earth would a woman who has cancer be in a hospital?

  Sophie stepped forward and pointed to the pregnant woman, glaring at her. “Is that your pregnant girlfriend?”

  “Yeah. Who the hell are you?” Contempt in his voice, he scowled at her.

  Sophie hiked a thumb at her mother. “Are you her husband?” She had to be certain.

  “Yeah. She’s my wife.” He sneered.

  “You lied and told me you stopped seeing her. Promised me it was over.” Her mother dried her eyes on her shirt sleeve, smearing a bit of eyeliner and eyeshadow down the side of her face.

  He had the decency to be contrite. His gaze lowered, and he shook his head as his girlfriend wailed through another contraction. “I’m sorry, Ellen. I tried, but between the hysterectomy and breast cancer, I want to be with a woman that isn’t carved up.”

  That was the last word he got out. Sophie hit him hard enough for his two front teeth to smack the back of his throat and probably broke her hand in the process.

  Bobby stumbled back, into a row of chairs and landed on the floor. Sophie followed him to the tiled floor and made Scarla proud. Every technique she’d taught Sophie to take an opponent down and keep him down, she applied. Her fist a jackhammer to his round face, blood gushed. She took a fist to her jaw. It didn’t slow her, not one tiny bit. She hadn’t survived a battle with Spauns and demons not to be able to shake a tap to her jaw from a fat piece of shit that called himself a man.

  Vaguely, she heard her mother screaming at her to stop and the shouts from others around her. She didn’t care, and she didn’t stop. Sophie kept waling—nose, eyes, throat—repeating the cycle, until an arm banded around her throat and hauled her away in handcuffs.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gingerly, Scarla rolled to her side. Her ribs howled, snatching what little breath she had away. Short pants were all she could manage after what? Day three? Four? Flat on her back, time blended together until everything boiled down to before the fight and after the fight.

  Before the fight, she was Scarla, a Halfling UnHallowed, kick-ass heroine.

  After the fight, she was…

  What the hell am I? The definition she’d used her entire life ended in the ring. The new reality, her new reality was unpalatable.

  Human. That’s what her condition was called. She was human. The word—curse—tumbled about her brain. How did one be human? They were frail, breakable, while she was indestructible.

  She took on a Demon Army and won for fuck’s sake! Now, she couldn’t sit up without pain arcing through her body. Her eyes peeled open and focused on the orange and white pill bottle on the nightstand. Without conscious thought, she reached for it, her trembling hand more of an annoyance than a concern.

  The bedroom door opened, but she didn’t have the spare energy to greet her guest. She kept her focus on her goal, a pain-free breath. Her hand closed around the bottle slowly.

  “Let me get that for you.” Chay took the pill bottle out of her weak grasp. Scarla flopped onto her back, sweaty and exhausted.

  Carefully, he propped her up on a mountain of pillows. She ignored the worry on his face and watched as he shook a single white pill into his palm.

  “That is not gonna cut it,” she hissed. “I need three.”

  His brow snapped together. He rotated the bottle and read the label. “It says ‘Take one.’” He handed her the pill and a glass of water that rested on the nightstand.

  The first time she’d been to a doctor since grade school and he screws her. “Treats me like I’m human.” She popped the pill into her mouth, felt it hit the back of her throat, and drank it down with the water.

  “That’s ‘cause you are human.”

  Chay reached for a napkin forgotten after her lunch as she sputtered. He was kind enough to mop her chin and face. He dragged the club chair from the corner of the room to her bedside and made himself comfortable. He was different, she noticed through the hazy pain. She’d accuse him of juicing if she hadn’t known better.

  “You’re not gonna sit there and watch me all day? Figured you had enough of that already.” She scooted lower and smoothed the duvet over her abdomen. Once she found the perfect spot, she let her head fall back and closed her eyes.

  “How bad is the pain?” Chay asked.

  “I’m peachy, can’t you tell?”

  “Cut the sarcasm. You know better with me.”

  She opened one eye and glared at him. “I hurt. What else do you need to know?”

  “Fro
m one to ten.”

  “Fucking fifteen! That’s why I wanted more than one damn pill,” she snarled and had to watch him wince, which further pissed her off. “My entire life I’ve never suffered so much as a hangnail. Shit, I don’t even get monthly cramps.” That caused Chay to blush. She’d laugh if it didn’t hurt so much. “I could take a punch from a demon.” Her eyes burned, but she’d be damned if a single tear broke free.

  “You haven’t died, Scarla.”

  “Haven’t I? ‘Cause it sure feels like it.” A part of her life had died, no denying it. Chay may not want to admit it, but she refused to lie to herself.

  He leaned forward and captured her hand between both of his calloused palms. He squeezed, transmitting a wealth of emotions that were always there, unspoken, but there. “You could’ve died in that ring. You didn’t. You’re not as tough as you were, you’re tougher.”

  “Don’t bullshit me. And have you been taking psychology classes?”

  “Between you and Sophie, I should.” He stroked a thumb over her knuckles.

  Now she felt bad for another reason. “Sophie still not talking to you?”

  He shook his head, then shrugged. “Talking is a relative term when it comes to our communication. Technically, yes, we are talking. Just not saying anything the other is listening to.” He raked a hand through his long hair. “She’s stubborn. More so than you, though no one would know it ’cause she’s so quiet. Sophie is steel, you don’t know it until she whips it out and shows you the sharp edge.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” A grimace twisted her mouth. Then, she grinned at him because that was the only muscle that didn’t hurt. “We were wrong, Chay. We should’ve told her.”