by JC Hawke
Maybe I’m a coward, but the hospital brings back horrific memories of my mother. It’s funny—some memories I fight to remember. The best ones are so vague, yet others—the worst ones—remain so vivid.
I remember the clinical smell of my mother’s hospital room, the blue lid on her jug of water, and the board above her head—it had her doctor’s name on it. I was four years old, but I will never forget Dr Lucas Smith.
He only ever brought the worst news.
“You wait here. I won’t be long,” my father tells me as he climbs from the Bentley.
I sit for a moment, knowing his pride will have me wait in the car, but I also know this scan is important and if I don’t go in with him, Scar will have my ass for not getting all the information.
I watch as he struggles towards the doors, and I can tell he is fighting against the pain. I’m out of the car and opening the door before he can reach for it. He rolls his eyes at me, but I also catch the relief in them—realisation that he isn’t alone.
We stand at reception, side by side.
“Anthony Lowell, I have an appointment at two p.m.”
“Of course, have a seat, and Dr Sarnmer will be with you shortly. Can I get you any refreshments?” the receptionist asks us.
“No, thank you,” my father replies.
A nurse comes in not long after to take my father through to his appointment. I sit and scroll through my phone, checking in with Elliot at the office.
My phone pings with a message from Scarlet.
Scar- Thank you soooooo much! The girls are hilarious. I really am having an incredible day.
A photo is attached to the message, and my eyes widen when I see what they have done to my penthouse. It’s a sea of purple.
“Mason.” I look up from my phone to my father’s ashen face. “You can come in now.”
I swallow the bile that rises in my throat, push my phone back into my pocket, and follow my dad into the room.
“Mason, it’s good to finally meet you,” the doctor says, standing to shake my hand.
“Likewise, do you have the results?” I ask, eager to get on the road and back to the office.
His chin drops, and he looks to my father.
“Dad?”
“It’s as we expected, son.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I challenge.
What were we expecting?
“Mason, your father’s drinking has led to his liver not working as it should. As he has continued to drink over the years despite that fact, he now has severe swelling of the liver. He has excessive nerve damage in his body, which is a common side effect and explains why he is in such a great deal of pain. The body’s ability to produce enough healthy red blood cells becomes affected, meaning not enough oxygen is being pumped around the body. I’m concerned with the nosebleeds your father has been experiencing—how often have you been getting them, Anthony?” he asks, turning to my father. I sit in a daze, trying to process the information he has just given me.
“Okay, you need to come in weekly for scans and stick to the treatment plan we have in place. In the meantime, I will have you placed on the waiting list as discussed. I’m sorry it wasn’t the news we wanted.”
“Waiting list?” I ask, only catching the end of what he said.
“Your father will need a liver transplant, I’m afraid all other treatments have been ineffective, and the next step would be a donor.”
“Thank you, Doc. Could you give us a minute, Mason?”
I snap out of my daze and stand in a rush to exit the room. “Of course, I will wait in the car,” I mutter as I leave the room, pulling at my tie as I lean my back against the closed door, trying to control my breathing.
I look around the corridor spotting a little boy on the row of five chairs. I move to sit beside him, leaning forward and running my fingers through my hair.
A liver transplant. What the fuck! Why didn’t I know this?
“Hey, mister, you like my cwar?”
The little boy pulls on my suit jacket, drawing my attention to the car in his hand. It’s blue, with oversized wheels—another insignificant piece of information that I know I’ll never forget.
“Yeah, it’s cool, mate.”
“You want it?” he offers.
I turn towards him. “No, that’s okay, it’s yours, you keep it.”
“My mummy said we can’t always keep the things that we wove. I should give it to you,” he says reluctantly.
“Is your mum sick?” I ask, giving him a sad smile.
“No, not Mummy, my big sister.” He looks up at me with big, innocent, brown eyes. “She gowes to the sky soon.”
Shit. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”
The door opposite us opens in a rush, the woman freezing on the threshold as her face drops in relief. “Zander, in here now. You know you’re not to run off,” she says, her hand on her chest.
He looks back at me, rolling his eyes, and it takes me back to the days I spent at my mother’s bedside. I never knew how important those final months were, always in a rush to get to the Montgomerys to swim in the pool.
“My fault, sorry,” I say, standing to apologise to the boy’s mother. “Hey, thanks for showing me your car. It’s super cool, mate.” I put my knuckles out and he bumps his against them. “Good lad.” I give him a wink and leave the hospital.
The car is silent as we pull up to the estate. It’s not an uncomfortable silence like before, though; it’s just two men reflecting, unable to communicate the right words out loud. Dr Sarnmer is optimistic that they will find a donor quickly, but it doesn’t take away the unease that roots itself in my gut.
“Come with me, son,” he says, waiting a beat before getting out of the car.
I rub my hand over my face before pulling open the door.
My mother’s grave is on the east side of the property, where she has a garden filled with all of her favourite flowers. I push through the gate and trudge through the overgrown grass, keeping my eyes on my now wet Prada loafers as I lower myself to sit beside my father on the bench.
“Is it bad that I want it to take me?” he says after a minute.
I frown, surprised at his confession. “Dad, I... Fuck.”
He chuckles beside me. “Come on, Mason, watch that language.” He stares out at the acres of land on the estate. “She wasn’t afraid of dying, you know. I didn’t understand at the time, how she could be so accepting when I was petrified for her to go. She knew she had people waiting for her, her parents, grandparents. I get it now.”
I sit quiet, fighting against the lump in my throat, unsure of what I should say.
“I need to get some things put into place, maybe next month we could sit down together and go through it all. So I know I won’t need to worry.”
“Wait until you hear more from the doctor, Dad. God, you say it like it’s no big deal. Scarlet will lose her only parent,” I mutter.
“So will you, Mason.”
“You don’t need to worry about me. Focus on getting better—for Scar.”
He nods his head in agreement. “Do you remember the summer of ninety-nine? You and Scar were on the meadow—”
I frown as I cut him off. “I told her Father Christmas wasn’t real, and she hit me round the head with the shovel.” He drops his head back, laughing. “I remember it well.” I scoff.
“Fourteen stitches,” he says, shaking his head.
“How about when you watched Jaws with Elliot and then wouldn’t take a bath for a week because you were too afraid a shark was going to come through the wall?”
My lip lifts on one side. “You wouldn’t believe how badly I believed that would happen.” I stare down at the ground, reminiscing. “What song was it? That Mum would play us on the piano?”
He looks at me, caught off guard by my question. “‘Imagine’ by John Lennon,” he croaks out.
“Yes! How could I not remember that?”
His eyes move to her gravestone. “She wou
ld be so proud of you. I am so proud of you.” He pauses for a moment, breathing in the damp English air. “I’m not afraid. She was my world, and like her, I dread leaving you and your sister, but I can accept it. I need you to as well, and I need you to be there for your sister when the time comes.”
“You know I will be.” My eyes begin to burn, and I clear my throat into my fist. “Stop talking like you’re going to die tomorrow, they said they will find a donor.”
He clasps my knee, squeezing to comfort me in the only way he knows I will allow. “Maybe, son, maybe.”
Nina
For a little person, Scarlet sure can hold her drink. I wasn’t expecting to drink as much as we have, but as I watch her dance across the sofas kicking the cushions to the floor while she points to Lucy across the room, singing in unison to “Girls Just Want To Have Fun”, I know she is worth the hangover.
The girls hit it off just like I knew they would. Lucy did an amazing job with planning the day. We had massages, manicures, and pedicures, followed by deliveries of gourmet food. The penthouse was transformed into a purple wonderland, balloon arches and streamers taking up every spare expanse. I hate to think how much it would have cost, and I didn’t ask. I paid for my treatments and tried not to dwell on the rest.
Scarlet bounds over to me with her lavender hair in a pile on her head. Just as she steps up in front of me, the elevator pings.
“Oh, is that the stripper?” she says excitedly, running in the direction of the foyer.
Elliot stops her in her tracks, sauntering around the corner as he pulls his shirt from his slacks.
“Did someone say stripper?” Elliot teases, and Charlie and Lance stroll in a few steps behind him.
“Me! I did!” Lucy shouts, dropping herself onto the sofa. I look at her, laughing. It’s very unlike her to be so forward.
Elliot beams as Scarlet slaps his arm and scolds him, “Put your damn clothes on, I do not want to see that.”
He pulls her into him, tucking her under his arm. “Happy birthday, Scar.”
I stand watching as the boys all greet Scarlet and wish her a happy birthday. Checking my phone, I notice it’s nearly six o’clock. I expected Mason to be back hours ago.
I go to the kitchen and dial his number.
“Hey,” he answers, a calm settling over me as his voice drifts through the phone.
“Sorry, I was just worried. Where are you? Is your dad okay?”
“I’m nearly home. Are the boys there?” he asks, not answering my other question.
“Yeah, I think your sister has had a great day. Although we are all slightly tipsy.” I giggle into the phone.
“Good, she deserves it.”
I frown at his tone. “Are you okay?”
“I’m just pulling in, angel, I’m on my way up.” And then he hangs up.
We sit around the fire pit on Mason’s balcony. The evening air has a slight chill to it, but Scarlet wanted to be outside so we found as many blankets as we could to wrap up in.
I lie between Mason’s legs on the lounger, watching as our friend’s drink and chat together.
“How did the appointment go?” I whisper into his neck.
His grip on my waist tightens and I lift my head so I can see his face. “Not great.” His eyes find Scarlet across the fire. “But I’m glad I went with him.”
I smooth my hand up his chest, a tight smile pulling at my lips. “Whatever happens, we are here for you, all of us,” I say, looking around at our friends.
He kisses my head, then shifts his hips, digging around under him. “Your phone.” He holds it in front of us as we both stare at the screen.
Mum.
17
Nina
My mum only ever calls when she wants money. I know this. So why do I have such a hard time ignoring her name as it flashes on my screen?
“You’d think it would be easy to ignore her calls after what you told me.” I mutter, reclining back into the safe confinement of Mason’s chest.
He wraps me up in his arms, breathing me in. “You should do what you think is right. Either way, I’m here for you.”
“I don’t want to speak to her, but I feel bad if I ignore her. And then when I do answer her calls, I’m always left feeling shitty. You probably think I’m stupid for even entertaining her.”
“She’s your mother, maybe not morally, but genetically she will always be a part of you, and I accept that if it means there is a you in the world.”
I dip my head back, looking at him upside down. “Smooth, Bossman.”
He chuckles, leaning forward to kiss me. “Can I kick them out yet?” He flicks his eyes towards our friends.
I follow his gaze, catching Elliot and Lucy deep in conversation. Lucy has had a skinful this evening and I should get her to bed, but I know Elliot is harmless. She seems to be herself around him, compared to the perfected Lucy she fronts to the rest of the world—not many people get that side of her.
“No, let them stay. This place is too big for the two of us, and I like them being here.”
He rests his chin on my shoulder. “Me too,” he admits.
I sigh and relax deeper into him, allowing my eyes to close and my mind to rest as I soak in the contentment that comes in that moment.
Strong hands lift me, pulling me from sleep. “Bedtime, angel.”
I open my eyes and I see that everyone has gone inside. A blanket is draped around me, and I am cradled in the warmth of strong arms.
“What time is it?” I ask into his neck.
“Late. I didn’t want to wake you,” he says, looking adoringly down at me.
I reach up, moving his hair from his forehead, his skin cool against my warm palm. “Mase, your freezing,” I scold, pulling the blanket from around me and draping it over his shoulders.
“I’m fine.” He shrugs off the material.
He walks us into the penthouse and drops me to my feet. Lance, Charlie, Megan and Scarlet, all sit around the sectional sofa watching a movie. Scarlet gets up when she sees us, rounding the sofa to hug me.
“Night, guys,” she says with a lopsided grin on her face.
“I hope you’ve had a good day, Scar, I know I have.” I yawn long and hard, lifting my hand to stifle it. I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep, but I feel exhausted.
“Thanks to you I have.” She pulls Mason in for a hug. “Big brother, you fuck this up, and I will seriously never forgive you,” she tells him, throwing me a wink over his shoulder. “Is Vinny still with Dad? He’s happy to stay?”
“Yeah, have a night off, Scar,” Mason tells her.
“Thank you,” she says, reaching out to squeeze my hand.
“You seem to make everyone you meet fall in love with you.”
We stand at the sinks in Mason’s en suite brushing our teeth, and I pause momentarily as his comment registers.
I side-eye him in the mirror, noting the panic that’s written across his face. Biting down on my toothbrush, I try to contain my amusement.
I step forward and rinse, then wipe my chin. “I do?”
“Yeah. Like my sister, Vinny and the boys,” he says, slightly muffled.
“Ah, your sister, Vinny and the boys.” I wait a beat before asking. “Have you ever been in love, Mase?”
“Me?” He doesn’t look at me, but I catch his brows raised high in the mirror, his toothbrush going a mile a minute in his hand.
“Yes, you,” I ask.
“Uh, I don’t think so.”
“Me neither.” I shrug, hooking the tips of my fingers into the crevice of my collarbone.
I wait for him to finish his teeth then step up to him, blinking slowly as I draw his lips into a deep kiss. The taste of mint and him is the perfect mix. “Although I think I could. One day. I don’t think I’m completely broken.” I give him a wink.
His face grows serious, not catching on to my playfulness. “You’re not broken. I have every faith that you will love someone someday.”
&nbs
p; My eyes search his, my arms wrapping around his neck. “Someone?”
He smiles, looking off to the side and shaking his head.
I bite my lip, knowing he’s done with tiptoeing around the conversation.
He takes me by the waist and lifts me to sit on the counter between the two sinks.
“Me. You will love me one day because I have absolutely no clue how I could ever allow you not to. I don’t know what this is, Nina,” He gestures between us. “but the need to know you, protect you, know where you are and that you are safe. That? That, I have never in my life felt before. You consume me in a way that scares me because it’s new. Every decision I’ve made since meeting you has had you at the centre of it.”
I smooth my hand down his cheek as he leans in to kiss me, nudging my legs apart as he puts himself between them.
An overwhelming need to worship this man takes over me, and it has me pushing him back. I slide off the counter and fall to my feet.
Leaning in, I kiss him slowly, then run my hand down his chest and into the top of his boxers, wrapping my hand around his growing length.
He smiles cockily, and it sends a zap of pleasure straight between my legs. “Why are you smiling at me like that? You know what it gets you.” I tell him, popping my brows once.
He laughs as I give him back his own words. “Do I? I think I must have missed that one.”
“Hmm, then let me show you.”
His hands find my shoulders, and he pushes me to my knees as if he knows what’s coming. “Fuck, yes!”
His dark eyes hold mine as I take him into my mouth, and I try to be just as sexy for him but this man is too much. I smile around him, unable to control myself. He shakes his head, dropping it back for a moment before looking down at me when I begin sucking on the very tip, and in that moment ‘my Mase’ is gone. He takes my ponytail, wrapping it tight around his fist as he grasps my jaw and squeezes, pushing himself to the back of my throat.
“Take me, angel,” he demands.