by Lynn, Stacey
Beaux didn’t talk about it much, but it was obvious why things moved so quickly after that with him and Paige. She essentially moved in with him immediately, not willing to waste another second apart.
Which meant as soon as I figured out how to fix things with Elizabeth, I was doing the same damn thing. I might have only had one night with her, but waking up without her this morning made everything worse.
“I was a dick,” I admitted. My palms scrubbed down my jeans. She’d be there today and I still didn’t know how to react. What to say. How to behave. I was a thirteen-year-old boy with a crush on his eighth grade English teacher all over again, sporting a hard on at the thought of her, a mumbling clueless fool when I looked at her.
“Was a dick to Jenny when we dated,” Danny piped up from the front seat. “Know what helped?”
“What?” And good Lord. How had this car ride ended up being a therapy session?
“Orgasms. Lots of them.”
“I think giving her those before I got to know her caused part of this.”
He snorted and continued. “Chocolates and flowers.”
That I could do.
“And falling to your knees and apologizing, a lot of begging. A lot of groveling. That helped.”
“Probably the most,” Powell agreed. He turned to me and smirked. “What can I say? A man on his knees knocks a woman down every single time.”
Now that? That made complete sense.
* * *
She looked like she slept less than I had and that was essentially saying she looked like shit. She also refused to look me in the eyes. Her hair was in that messy bun she’d wrapped it in last night. And the flashback almost made me drop to my knees then and there.
But it was her eyes, dark-rimmed circles beneath them, swollen and bloodshot that hurt worse.
Shit. I hadn’t just hurt her. It was worse than that and that made my hands curl into fists and tense at my sides to avoid grabbing her and slamming my mouth to hers right in the middle of the waiting room on the fifth floor.
Instead, I gave her space. I was there to see the kids. I hitched the duffel bags filled with hats and footballs and a host of other items including ridiculous foam fingers over my shoulder.
“That didn’t go so well,” Danny muttered as my gaze bounced off Elizabeth and down the hall. “I think you might need more than chocolate.”
“Shut up,” I grumbled.
He slapped his arm to my shoulder and shoved me forward. “Anyone can fix things, it’s you. You’re the best guy there is Gage Bryant.”
“If that were true I wouldn’t have been such an asshole to her.”
“Eh. You’ve got a dick. Sort of comes with the territory.”
Idiots. All of them. Elizabeth had told me that. Right there in the center where Danny and I were headed. Which meant if she could think that about her brothers and love them, perhaps I’d be able to show her I was worth it, too.
“True that,” I replied.
We entered the first room, a seventh-grade football player who’d recently made local news for getting a spinal cord injury during one of his own games. He’d regained feeling in his arms but hadn’t yet in his legs.
I blew out a breath. Today was for the kids not the problems of my own making.
It took effort, but I plastered on a smile and shoved Beaux and Powell out of the way. “Hey man, Gage Bryant. How’s it goin’?”
His dark brown eyes skipped and jumped as he took us all in. “Wow. I can’t believe y’all are really here.”
His hands went to his bed like he was trying to push himself up and frustration etched his features. I reached around Beaux and grabbed the remote on the side of his bed. Then I hit the button, lifting him up so he was sitting. I said nothing, acted like I’d done or noticed nothing. He might have still been a kid, but he was a competitor which meant he didn’t want to seem weak, especially not around us.
“You’re Javier, right?” I asked and grabbed his hand. His grip was weak so I was careful. “What position did you play?”
“Cornerback.” He looked down at his legs and back to me, frustration gone, determination replaced and in that split second, he earned the respect from all of us. “And I will play again.”
Powell held out his closed fist. “Damn straight you will.”
* * *
We worked our way down the hall stopping in every room where parents had given prior permission. I hadn’t seen Elizabeth since the waiting room when we stepped off the elevator and that was hours ago. Jason was following us with his camera and in fact, it was mostly just the cameraman staying close. They gave us privacy in some rooms, respected the choice of some parents to stay in the hall, and when we entered the room to varying degrees of excitement, the camera crews stayed as close to the door, as far out of the way as possible. We’d done this enough to know almost exactly where to stand to still give them their shot while getting the kids on screen and have it appear natural.
After an hour of visiting the kids, some with minor injuries, some with life-changing injuries like Javier and some with debilitating diseases, the scum I’d made of my life was put back in its proper place. There were a lot of people who went through a lot more shit than what I’d created unnecessarily last night.
I’d hurt a woman I cared about for no reason, jumping to conclusions because I didn’t give her—or us—time to get to know each other. And as soon as the day was done, I’d go to her house and do whatever I could to make it better.
It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all I had time for. Just knowing she was close and I couldn’t get to her, that she didn’t want me to be anywhere near her compressed my chest and made breathing difficult.
“Man, some of these kids are the total shit,” Beaux said, coming up to me in the hallway. “I can’t even imagine some of this crap they go through.”
“Tell me about it,” I said, and punched Beaux in the gut. The guys all knew about Harrison before the hospital stuff invaded my life and became a purpose. I had his jersey number from youth football, forty-five, stitched into every jersey I wore at games.
“Oh shit.” He groaned. “Sorry man. I didn’t mean to forget.”
“I get it.” Suddenly, a piercing sound blasted through the air.
“What the—”
But I knew that sound. And the words I expected quickly followed.
Code Blue room five fifteen.
Code Blue room five fifteen.
A dozen people rushed past us. Nurses in scrubs, tugging their stethoscopes to their chests.
It took a moment.
Five fifteen.
The bag of swag fell to my feet. “Oh fuck. Brandon.”
I took off, following the crowd, slipping on my heels as I hurried around the corner. I slammed my hand to the wall to stop from smashing into it.
It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. The alarm still sounded. A nurse ran by.
My feet pulled to a stop when I saw Elizabeth.
She was in the hallway, back braced against the opposite wall of Brandon’s room, and in her arms?
Penny. Sobbing. Screaming. She wrestled away from Elizabeth and I trudged closer.
I didn’t have to glance into his room to know what I’d find. A team of doctors and nurses. Machines. Hands on his chest. Airbag and mask pressed to his small mouth.
I reached them and for a moment, made eye contact with Elizabeth. Her eyes were soaked, cheeks showing off trails of tears. My hand went to her cheek as I said, “Penny.”
Penny clung to me and I took her weight much more easily than Elizabeth had. “No! He can’t!”
A sob clogged my throat. My own memories. My own horror. I’d been in the room when Harrison flat-lined.
It wasn’t a memory anyone, much less a child or a mother should have. “You got this, Penny. Stay strong.”
“I can’t.” She fell to her knees and I went with her, collapsing in the hallway, holding this woman I’d grown to know so well due to horrible
circumstances all while the girl I wanted, was falling in love with, stood tall, brushing her own tears away. I reached up and grabbed her hand, thankful she squeezed back. And we sat there, the three of us, our bond the poor boy in the room. And waited.
Twenty-Six
Elizabeth
Three days. It’d been three days of waiting.
Three days of grieving. My heart so heavy in my chest it hurt to breathe more than the absolute required amount. It was a weight on my bones I couldn’t shake, a weight I already knew would take years to vanquish. Even then, memories of the little boy I’d only known for such a short time but would remember forever, would cause a sharp ache in my gut.
Three days where the only contact I’d had with Gage was his hand squeezing mine.
But his hand reaching for me, the torment in his eyes, it unraveled me. The depth of his emotion for Penny and Brandon and even me in that torturous moment was so obvious, so bright and crystal clear I’d made a decision almost immediately.
As soon as he reached out to me, and I knew he would at some point, I’d listen to his reasons for being such a jerk, and I’d forgive him.
Life was too damn short to hold on to regrets. Brandon taught me that. And it would honor his life if I, and those of us who knew him, no matter how briefly, lived as vividly as we could, even if he couldn’t be there to witness it.
I smoothed down my black dress. Cap sleeves with a cut straight across my chest beneath my collarbone, it was the most conservative dress I owned. Bought for a tea party last Spring, the last place I ever imagined wearing it was to a child’s funeral.
A heavy exhale pushed from my chest and I took one last look at myself in the mirror. Black heels and sheer stockings clasped to a garter belt. It was dreary and chilly, the perfect miserable day that matched my mood. My hair was pulled back into a clip at my temple and hung straight, my energy not high enough to take the time to curl it. My makeup was minimal. No mascara, because despite it being waterproof, nothing could stop it from smudging all over my face.
“Oh.” Which reminded me. Moving to my dresser, I opened the small, top center drawer I rarely used and pulled out one of my grandmother’s handkerchiefs. Running my fingers around the silky lace edge she’d crocheted with frail, aging hands, tears sprung in my eyes and I forced them down. She had lived until ninety, alone until she was eighty-eight. At seventy, she learned computer programming and she took swing dance classes at seventy-five. She’d lived her life vibrantly and fervently. Exactly how a life should be lived. Not cut short by disease with no cure.
No crying. Not yet. There’ll be plenty for that later.
I folded the handkerchief she’d always clutched in her hands on Sunday mornings at church. Memories when I was a little girl, curled up to her side. For some reason, when she passed, it was one of the few possessions I’d clung to and wanted.
“Take care of him, Mamma,” I whispered and zipped the item into my small clutch. Lip gloss, keys, and my phone the only other items.
I took the day off work and immediately following the ceremony, my plan was to return home and sleep the rest of the day.
It took too long and not enough time to drive to the funeral home outside Raleigh. The parking lot was packed when I arrived, three limos already lined at the entrance behind a hearse with flags on top. I ended up parallel parking down the street two blocks and followed families and a few men I recognized from the football team into the funeral home.
My fingers clasped my clutch nervously as I entered, eyes scanning the anteroom. Clusters of young children in suits and ties stood with parents. At the sight of them, my knees buckled. These would have been Brandon’s family. His classmates. His friends and teammates.
God. All of this sucked. I quickly removed my wool pea coat and hung it on a rack off to the side and smoothed down my dress again. It was a nervous habit, but it wasn’t nerves making my fingers shake and my chin tremble. It was everything else. The sadness.
The unfairness of it all.
Even the uncertainty of what would happen if Gage saw me. For that very reason alone, I quietly moved toward the sign-in ledger and slipped into the surprisingly large chapel room where the service would be held.
I found an open spot in the back corner and picked up a copy of the program before I sat down.
At the front of the room, Penny stood next to who I assumed was her ex-husband. They stood together, avoiding each other and more pain pierced my heart at the sight of her.
Ravaged. Destroyed. Amidst all the pain and suffering her son endured, she’d always held out hope he’d pull through. She smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes when a woman her age reached in and hugged her. Her eyes closed and next to her, her ex-husband placed his hand on the small of her back. He looked lost, as if he realized he’d lost everything that had once been so dear to him. And while she didn’t look at the man whose name I didn’t even know, my heart broke for him as well, even if I despised him for leaving Penny to deal with all of this alone.
Next to the two of them were two sets of couples, both older. His grandparents. God, I couldn’t even deal with seeing them and the sadness lining their expressions.
I yanked my eyes off the family, quick to avoid the casket at the front, and noticed players from the Rough Riders standing off to the side in a corner. And among that gathered group was the man I hoped didn’t see me. His head was dipped as he listened to Jones say something to him. He nodded once, accepted the pat to the shoulder and before he rose his head, I pulled my eyes off him. Today wasn’t the day for drama. I was there for Brandon and Penny, and in part for Gage, my silent support for a man who had already been through this once.
I dipped my head, closed my eyes, and until the service began and through the rest of it, I struggled to choke down tears clawing at the back of my eyes.
When it was done, I exited quickly through a side door and hurried to my car. And once the procession pulled out, I followed the two-mile trek to the cemetery.
* * *
My plan at the cemetery was the same as at the funeral home. Arrive right before it started, stand in the back, keep my head down and leave soon after paying my respects to Penny.
That plan faltered almost immediately as I cautiously stepped through the grass on heels. Near the back of the set up white chairs, a sweet brunette stood, eyes scanning the oncoming mourners. They landed on me and she smiled.
“Hey,” Shannon said. She reached for my hand and squeezed. “What a horrible day, huh?”
“Yes.” I squeezed her hand and tried to pull it from her, but she held on tight.
“Gage told me he wanted you with him.” A worried expression momentarily hid her sadness. “Is that okay? He asked me.”
I was stuck on that he wanted me. How he knew I was there. But he wanted me with him?
“Okay.” I nodded and she finally let go of my hand.
She gestured for me to go first and as I stepped around her, she whispered, “And later, when it’s a more appropriate time, you’re going to tell me exactly why it is he was so adamant of wanting you nearby. And why you didn’t mention anything going on between you before.”
“It’s—”
“Not nothing,” she whispered. Her smile was faint but there and playful. “If that’s what you were going to say. Even I can tell that.”
Well. She could think whatever she wanted, but until Gage and I talked everything out which wouldn’t happen today, it very well could be nothing.
I headed down the row of chairs and stopped when a large blockade stepped in front of me.
Gage. His hands were at his sides, tightly curled fists. And man, it was not the right time to drag my gaze up the length of his perfectly fitted black suit and shirt that fit him so damn perfectly he could have made the cover of GQ sizzle to ash he was so hot.
I met his eyes, took in his scowl, and the frown line etched deep between his eyes.
He had wrinkles around his eyes and his beautiful mouth was
turned down.
My chin wobbled and all those tears I’d held back all morning rushed to my eyes, clouding my vision. “I’m so sorry.” My voice shook and I could barely force out the words.
“Me too,” he said. He sounded like he’d scrubbed his throat with sandpaper. He lifted one of his hands, palm up toward me. “Sit with me. Please?”
Of course I would. Outside of saying goodbye to Brandon, supporting him was my purpose for being there. I placed my hand with his, stunned by the heat in his strong but gentle hold and followed him to where he’d set two seats aside.
We sat right behind Penny and before I could stop myself, I reached forward and squeezed her shoulder. She’d been talking to the older woman I saw at the funeral home and at my touch, her hand covered mine as she turned her head.
“Penny.”
It was all I got out before she squeezed back. “Elizabeth. Thank you so much for coming.”
I wouldn’t have missed it. “I’m so—”
“Don’t be sorry.” God. The strength in her voice threatened to undo me. “Don’t be sorry for him. Or for me. I had the honor of raising the strongest boy to walk the Earth and while he might have lost his war, he bravely won many battles. Honor him. But do not pity us.”
I couldn’t possibly pity her. The resolve in her words was so fiercely spoken, pieces of my own heartbreak stitched together while I marveled at her determined expression.
God. I couldn’t stop the tears. At my side, Gage’s hand still holding mine tightened. He placed it on his thigh, settled his other hand over our already entwined ones, like somehow, his job was to comfort me instead of the other way around.