by Jamie Canosa
“Do you want me to come in with you?” Dean’s voice was so soft she barely heard him over the chatter of the nurses and beeping of machines.
The thought that he wouldn’t hadn’t even occurred to her. And it scared her to death. This wasn’t his problem, but there was no way she could face it on her own. The desperation she felt must have been written all over her face because he laced his fingers with hers and pulled the curtain back, dragging her inside with him.
Her mother was lying on one of those adjustable beds, a thin white blanket covering her. IVs ran from both arms and small white cords extended from somewhere underneath the neckline of her hospital gown connecting to a machine. Allie watched, hypnotized, as the line spiked and plummeted in synch with the sounds of beeping.
“Sit down.” Dean slid a hard plastic chair from the corner of the space and set it beside her mother’s bed.
She dropped into it, grateful to be off of her wobbly legs, and looked at her mother. Really looked at her for the first time since she’d come home. She’d been too afraid—too much of a coward—to take a good look before. She was paste white. Her once thick, shiny hair was limp and thinned out. Her cheeks looked hallowed—sort of like Allie’s. Dark circles ringed her eyes.
Allie’s gaze slid lower. She’d noticed how thin she was before, but now she just looked . . . fragile. Like a strong wind could break her. That wasn’t true, though. Nothing could break her anymore. She’d already been broken. For years.
Angry tears welled up as she thought back over her mother’s life, but she refused herself the comfort of allowing them to fall. How awful it must have been. No escape. No hope. She was imprisoned by the dragon and no prince ever came to her rescue. It was a goddamned tragedy. One Allie was doomed to repeat.
Dean’s warm hands began rubbing her shoulders and that only made it harder. The worst part of her tragedy was that she did have a prince. Prince—fucking—Charming was standing right behind her, but there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
“Miss Porter?” A man in a white coat stood just inside the curtain.
“Yes.” Allie blinked away the moisture clouding her eyes.
“I’m Doctor Westen. I’ve taken a look at your mother’s chart and did a cursory exam before you arrived. You’re aware of her diagnosis, correct?”
“Yes. Cancer.”
“Stage four. It’s progressed into more of her body, attacking more and more organs as it moved. At this point, her body is essentially shutting down. Her kidneys are failing. Her liver. Her heart is strained. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Miss Porter, but it won’t be much longer. Now is the time to say your goodbyes.”
It wasn’t anything she hadn’t expected, but it felt like being broadsided by a damn bus. All of the air rushed out of her and she had to fight to reclaim some of it.
“I’m gonna go get you a drink.” Dean slipped out after the doctor and Allie was left alone with her mother. Her dying mother. Her mother who would soon be dead.
This couldn’t be happening. Maybe it was all some nightmare. Maybe her entire life had been one long fucking nightmare. It was the only explanation. Life couldn’t really be this cruel.
Allie’s fingers brushed over her mother’s hand as she searched for the words. The doctor had told her to say her goodbyes, but what did she really have to say to this woman? She was her mother, she was supposed to protect her and she didn’t. But she was only human. Only a fragile, broken woman with no hope.
“Mom?” Carefully lifting her hand, Allie placed it in hers. Her skin was cool and clammy. Like death. “It’s Allie. I’m here. You’re not alone. Mom, I . . . I . . . Fuck, Mom, what am I supposed to say right now? I love you? Yeah, I love you, Mom. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. Even if you never loved me, I love you.” A sudden anger swept through her, stealing her breath in a rush of words she’d been too afraid to say before. “Maybe you did love me, but you sure as hell never showed it. How could you? How could you let him do that to you? To me? How dare you go now? How dare you leave me alone with him? You’re a coward. You’ve always been a coward.” The tears flowed freely as she grasped her hand tightly. “I came back for you and you’re leaving me? You can’t. You can’t, Mom. I need you!”
So many times she’d imagined begging her mother for help, pleading with her. She’d never actually done it before.
“Please, Mom. Please don’t leave me here alone. I love you! I need you! I can’t do this alone!”
Just like every other fucking time, her mother failed her. The machine on the opposite side of the bed beeped once more and then started screeching some god-awful noise. The line flattened right along with Allie’s soul.
“No! Mom, no! You can’t! You can’t do this to me! Mom! Please. I love you. I love you. Don’t leave me. Please, Mom.”
Allie was on her feet with no memory of getting there. The small space had grown crowded as nurses and doctors flowed in. Hands gripped her shoulders and tried to pull her back, but she couldn’t leave. She wouldn’t. Clinging desperately to her mother, Allie fought against those hands until they let go. Then two strong arms wrapped around her waist and hauled her backwards. Her mother’s limp fingers slipped from her grasp and she cried out in anger, and fear, and defeat.
Struggling the whole way, Allie was carried out into the hall. The moment those arms released her, she whirled around ready to kick, or punch, or scream her head off. Instead, she threw herself back into Dean’s embrace. His arms wrapped her up again and held her close.
“Shh, baby. Shh. It’s going to be all right. I’ve got you, darlin’.” She listened to Dean’s whispered words over the sounds of people shouting, and machines squealing, and her own raged breaths. She clung to them like a life preserver and waited out the storm.
When things finally quieted again, the same doctor stepped up to them. “I’m very sorry. We did everything we could.”
And that was it. That was the end of her mother’s story. Her mother’s tragedy. She wouldn’t cry. She didn’t deserve to. Allie was the last person to speak with her and she’d shouted at her. Accused her of things and hadn’t forgiven her. Her mother was lying there—dying—and Allie had made it about herself. God, she really was a bitch.
Chapter Twelve
Dean
Not a single tear pricked her eyes, but Allie’s entire body trembled with the exertion it cost her to keep them at bay. All Dean could do was hold her. Hold her and try to convince her that it would be all right. It was bullshit. He knew better than anyone that losing a parent was never all right, but it would get easier. He knew that, too. And Allison was the strongest person he’d ever met. After everything she’d already been through, she could survive this. She had to. He needed her. More than she could ever know.
The past few weeks without her had been torture. He couldn’t breathe without her. Couldn’t sleep for fear of what was happening to her. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t focus. He was a fucking mess.
When he’d seen the ambulance pull up in front of her house, he damn near choked on that fear. But, when he saw her mama rolled out on the gurney, God help him, he’d felt relieved. Her mother was the only thing tethering her to that place. That man. Now she could be free of him. But she wasn’t going to run again. Dean wouldn’t let her. This time she’d have help. This time she’d have him.
When a nurse came to collect them, Allie dragged herself from Dean’s embrace with one long shuddering breath. She straightened her back and squared her shoulders, but the emptiness Dean saw when he looked in her eyes frightened him. Hell, it scared the ever-living crap out of him.
She moved like a fucking zombie down the damn hall and into an office where stacks of paper work sat waiting on a desk to be filled out. His mama had taken care of most of that shit when his father passed away, but Allie didn’t have anyone to help her with it. She just sat, took the pen the nurse offered, and started writing.
She could survive this. She had to.
Chapter Thi
rteen
Allie
The amount of paperwork involved in dying was unbelievable. Decisions had to be made. Arrangements. Things Allie knew absolutely nothing about, but she knew her father wouldn’t do it. Dean helped as much as he could, having gone through the same things when his father died. By the time she’d signed the last form, it was dark outside.
Afterward, Allie followed Dean back out to his truck and they just sat there for a while.
“What happens now?” Dean’s voice was soft like he was afraid to break the silence after such a long stretch.
“You take me home.” Hers was flat.
“Allie, you don’t have to go back—”
“I just want to go home, Dean.”
“But your mother’s not—”
“Please, Dean? I’m so tired. Just take me home?”
He sighed and dropped his head back against the car seat.
“Not unless you at least let me feed you first. You haven’t eaten anything all day.”
Allie wasn’t hungry, but she was far too exhausted to argue. The truck roared to life in its usually putt-putt style and he pulled out of the parking lot. Ten minutes later, they were sitting at a table in the local burger joint, Big Ben’s Beefhouse. It was a ridiculous name with an equally ridiculous England themed interior, but the food was good. Juicy and greasy, and everything a burger should be. Everything her stomach couldn’t quite handle at the moment.
She picked at her fries and nibbled at the bread, but that was about it. Dean didn’t look pleased. She knew he wanted to argue—about the food, about her destination—but he knew her well enough to understand she couldn’t deal with it just then, so he kept his mouth shut.
When Allie had eaten all she could manage—which, admittedly, wasn’t much—Dean wrapped up the rest and insisted she take it home for later. The remainder of the drive was excruciating. Dean drove quietly and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say, so she just sat there, staring out the window . . . thinking.
Her mother was gone. Dead. The word still made her want to hurl. She wouldn’t be there when Allie got home. She’d never be there again. Where did that leave Allie? Her father didn’t need her anymore. That thought turned her stomach, too, so she pushed it away. She pushed everything away and locked it up tight.
Dean parked across the street in his own driveway, but he didn’t get out. Neither did she.
“I’m so sorry, Allie. I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry about everything.”
Allie just stared blankly. He was apologizing to her? Dean eyes searched hers, but she doubted they found what they were looking for. There was nothing left inside of her to find. His warm hand wrapped around hers and lifted it to his lips. Never breaking eye contact, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Prince—fucking—Charming.
“Are you gonna be okay?”
There were so many different questions wrapped up in one. Okay in life? Okay with her father? Okay without her mother? There was really only one answer.
“I’ll be fine.” She had to be.
“Darlin’.” He slid across the seat until he was right beside her.
Allie was afraid he was ready to argue, but he didn’t. He slid his hand up the back of her neck and into her hair. Tilting her head back, he lowered his lips to hers.
They’d kissed before. Plenty of times. More than kiss. A lot more. They’d never gone all the way. Dean had never come right out and said it, but Allie was pretty sure he was waiting for marriage. Either that or he thought she was, though she had no idea why he’d think that. He’d never once pressed the issue, never even brought it up. Over time it had just sort of become an understanding between them that that shit wasn’t going to happen. Didn’t mean there wasn’t a hell of a lot of ground between kissing and sex, though, and they’d covered damn near every square inch of it together over the years. But this was different. This was something entirely new. This kiss was full of pain, and understanding, and longing. It felt like their first real kiss. Between Dean and her. Between Dean and the real her. The her she was no longer trying to hide from him.
It started innocently enough. Just a brush of his lips on hers. He was testing the waters, but when she didn’t pull away he deepened it. His soft lips pressing firmly to hers as he held her head still. Allie gasped when his tongue slid along her bottom lip and sparks ignited. He took the full advantage, plunging inside. It wasn’t rough or demanding, but it wasn’t gentle, either. It was firm. Like he was trying to make a statement that this was right. This was how they were meant to be, and nothing would change his mind. And Christ, it felt right. It felt more right than anything else in her entire life.
His free arm wrapped around her back and pulled her into his lap without ever breaking apart. Allie’s skin hummed everywhere he touched. Over her shoulder, down her arm, around her waist, and then up under her shirt. Her breath faltered when he skimmed her bra line. Around her back and up to her neck. He twined them together so tightly it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. Allie’s arms had wound their way around his neck without her noticing or meaning to. His groan filled her mouth as she raked her fingers through his long, soft hair. Shit, that felt good. Too good. Dean didn’t disagree. She could feel his enthusiasm swelling beneath her and that’s what brought her back to earth.
She couldn’t be doing this. Not now. Not here. Not with him.
“Stop,” Allie gasped, dragging her lips from his. “Dean. Stop. Wait.”
Dean pulled back, loosening his grip on her enough that she was able to scoot off of his lap. He watched as she straighten her shirt and ran her fingers through her hair. He wasn’t angry or disappointed. He was Dean, of course he wasn’t. He just sat there watching her.
“Allie.” His gaze delved deep and she knew he was still seeking something that wasn’t there anymore. “Darlin’, I don’t know what to say right now.”
“Don’t say anything.”
He chewed his lip in frustration, but for once in his life he listened to her. He kept quiet. For all of thirty seconds.
“When will I see you again?” That’s what he asked, but what Allie heard was ‘Will I see you again?’ And she honestly didn’t know the answer to either. She didn’t know anything, anymore.
“I don’t know, Dean. But I have to go.”
“Al—” He reached for her out of instinct as she grabbed the door handle, but stopped himself.
Before he could change his mind, she threw open the door and climbed out. Tears blurred her vision as she walked away feeling like her first real kiss—her first mind-numbing, body-burning, deep, true kiss—would be her first kiss goodbye.
Chapter Fourteen
Allie
Five days after her death, Allie’s mother was buried. During that time, the phone hadn’t stopped ringing. Condolences came in from everyone they’d ever met. Allie didn’t even know who half the people she spoke to were. But her mystery caller hadn’t called once. Apparently, her mother’s death had earned her a break from that particular irritation. A considerate stalker, how nice for her.
The body was cremated because her father refused to cover the cost of a casket, so there wasn’t much of a funeral. Just a short graveside service. Allie stood there in her itchy black skirt, sweating like a pig in the sun, watching her father’s friends from work or the bar congregate around him. They patted his shoulder or back, shared their condolences, and all she wanted to do was scream at the lot of them that this was all his fault. Even if he hadn’t killed her, he’d sure as hell destroyed her life.
Allie didn’t think she’d ever hated him more than when he dropped that red rose on the grave, which was little more than a plaque stuck in the ground, labeling her mother’s burial place with her name and date of death.
“Would anyone like to say a few words?” The preacher’s question was benign, but it sounded like a challenge to Allie’s ears.
Words? She had so many goddamn words. Words she wanted to scream, and yell, an
d shout straight up to Heaven where maybe even her mother would hear them. But she couldn’t do it. Once again, she proved herself a coward.
Impotent rage curled her hands into such a tight fists that her nails dug into the skin. She thought she may actually draw blood until capable fingers pried them open and threaded through hers. He was there with her. She wasn’t alone. Dean, Sarah, Amy, and Mrs. Ritter all surrounded her. For a moment, Allie closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like to really belong with them instead of that cold, heartless bastard. It was too much. Too hopeless. Too painful knowing it could never be.
She needed to distance herself from them. From Dean. It was better for everyone that way. But not today. She wasn’t strong enough to do it, today.
After the service, Dean drove all of the women in his life home, including Allie. She just couldn’t bring herself to get in the car with her father. Not that Dean had given her much of a choice.
When they pulled into the Ritter’s driveway, Dean hopped out to help his mama down and then pulled the tailgate open to free Amy, Sarah and Allie.
“Allie, sweetheart, please tell your father that I made a casserole we’ll bring by in a little while. We can all have some supper together at your place.” Mrs. Ritter pulled Allie into a hug, and she couldn’t stop herself from fisting her hands in the woman’s shirt and holding on for dear life.
Allie and her dad had more food in the house than the Ritter’s did. She knew that for a fact. They struggled every week to feed the mouths they had over there, but still she’d used some of that hard earned money to make something to share with them. The woman really was a saint, which made what Allie needed to do—and soon—all that much harder.