None of this makes sense.
I let my thoughts pour from my fingers.
And I don't stop until I don't feel anything anymore.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Kaylee
Mom is waiting at baggage claim.
Her eyes are puffy. Red. She's been crying.
From the way she's looking at me, I'm pretty sure mine are the same.
Fuck.
I knew things might be bad.
But not this bad.
Mom makes small talk.
And I let her.
Until we take an early exit.
She turns on an unfamiliar street.
Then down another.
The hospital comes into view.
"Mom..." I place my hands in my lap. "What... What the hell?"
She pulls into the hospital parking lot. "I can explain."
"How can you explain?" Grandma is supposed to be okay. Okay people aren't in the hospital. That's a fucking fact.
"Your Grandma had another heart attack last week." Mom pulls into an end space and turns the car off. Her hands stay glued to the steering wheel. Her gaze stays on the windshield. "We knew you were coming. We figured it would be better to wait until you were here."
"And all the stuff you've said the last few months about her being okay?"
"She was okay—"
"Mom." I blink and a tear catches on my lashes. I don't have the emotional energy for this. For anything. I need a million hours of sleep. "Tell me the truth. How long have things been bad?"
"Bad is relative."
"She's dying."
"She..."
"Mom. Tell me the truth. Is Grandma dying?"
She turns to me, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her lips quiver.
Mom usually looks so put together. Pretty. Trendy.
But she's in leggings and a hoodie. Her hair is in a ponytail. Her only makeup is a little lipstick. It's not like her.
"Mom..." My voice cracks. I know the answer, but I need to hear her say it.
"I'm sorry, Kay." She shakes her head. "We thought it would be better if you didn't know. It's what Mom wanted."
"But—"
"She didn't want you to see her like this."
"But—"
"She only has a few weeks, max. Or maybe a few days. It's hard to say."
My hands are shaking again. A tear stings my eye. It's hot and salty. Then there's another. Another.
Words rise up in my throat.
But what is there to say?
Grandma is dying.
There isn't a word in the universe that will make that better.
I unclick my seatbelt and move toward Mom.
She wraps her arms around me. "I'm so sorry, Kay. We thought we were protecting you."
"Well stop." I tug at her hoodie. "Stop making decisions for me. Stop protecting me. I'm an adult and I can tell you what I can handle. Or what I want. Or who I love."
"Kay?"
"He... he isn't here."
"Who?"
"He loves me, but he won't be with me."
"Who loves you, Kay?"
"It doesn't matter." Not anymore. I have to get through this without him. That's his decision. It's probably for the best. Otherwise, I'll fall more in love with him.
I stop choking back sobs.
I hold onto my mom and I cry until I can't cry anymore.
Chapter Fifty
Brendon
This is taking every ounce of my concentration.
It's a simple tattoo. Black line art. Three colors. No shading.
Fuck, it's like I'm apprenticing again.
I pull back to check on my client. Allison. She's a tall girl with short hair and a quiet smile. Her boyfriend is sitting opposite her, holding her hand, whispering words of comfort.
"You okay?" Sweat is gathering on my brow. It's not the heat. The air conditioning's hum is competing with the buzz of Walker's gun.
It's the devil on my shoulder, telling me I fucked up.
And the angel arguing that this is for the best, no matter how badly it hurts right now.
Allison grunts a yes.
Her boyfriend smiles at her. Squeezes her hand. "It looks awesome."
"Yeah?" She turns toward the mirror to catch a glimpse of the ink forming on her shoulder blade. It's two dinosaurs facing each other with a heart between them. She must be able to see because her eyes light up. "That's perfect." She looks to me. "How much longer?"
"Ten minutes." It's a small piece and we're halfway there.
She nods. "Ten minutes. I can do that." She lies back down. Rests her head on her hands. "Do you get a lot of people saying it doesn't hurt?"
All the time. "Mostly guys."
"They think it makes them tough?" she asks.
"Yeah." I check the work. The green dino is done. Now it's the pink one and the red heart between them. "You know men."
She looks to her boyfriend with a smile. "I do."
"Hey." He folds his arms. Throws her a look of faux irritation. "I told you it would hurt like a bitch."
"Stay still." My voice drops to that demanding tone. Damn. I don't have enough focus to keep shit professional.
She doesn't notice. She's too busy smiling at her boyfriend.
"You ready?" I hold her back in place with my free hand.
"Ready," she says.
I get to work on the pink dinosaur. She lies there, squeezing her boyfriend's hand as he distracts her with conversation about their upcoming vacation.
Usually, I love it when the boyfriend comes. Wife, daughter, mom, best friend, coworker—it doesn't matter. Talking keeps people distracted from the pain. If they're here alone, that's my job.
I should appreciate it more right now—I don't have a shred of comfort in me.
But, fuck, I hate seeing them happy.
I hate the way they're smiling at each other.
I hate that the sun is shining.
I hate the music flowing from our speakers.
I hate that Kay is hurting alone.
It only takes eight minutes to finish. I clean and bandage her, go through my aftercare routine, take her to the register.
She throws her arms around me. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."
The boyfriend shoots me a friendly nod. "Thanks for taking care of her." He offers his hand.
I shake. "Just doing my job." I motion to Leighton, standing behind the counter. "Will you get them some A+D ointment?"
"Sure. But you should—" She motions to Walker, leaning against the wall, staring at me like he's thinking about how he's gonna deck me.
On anyone else, that expression would be you're mildly annoying. But Walker never shows that he's pissed. Or hurt. Or annoyed even.
That look might be I'm gonna kill you.
He waits until the clients are out the door to approach me.
His eyes narrow.
His voice drops to a threatening tone. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"A lot. You need to be more specific," I say.