“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t,” he says gruffly. “Just don’t. Don’t fucking say anything. Don’t ever try to leave me again. I can’t take it, Blake. I’ll die before I let something happen to you, but don’t fucking leave me. Please,” he pleads.
I start to cry with him and I replay what happened to me as he listens quietly. He calls Greg and tells him to get someone to watch him and Becky and does the same for Aubry and Aimee. I let Cole do this. He needs to feel like he’s in control, and I know this helps him. I let him take care of me—the way I always do—because I crave it as much as he needs to show me he can do it.
Chapter 21
Present
They say we’re all just one phone call away from our knees, and today, I learned the truth in that. I got a phone call at five in the morning that startled me enough to jump out of bed to answer it. Any phone call before six in the morning brings a dreadful feeling with it. I know something is wrong as I stare at the screen, but I’m not sure I even want to answer it and face reality. I look over, and Cole is still in an undisturbed slumber.
“Hello?” I manage to croak out.
“Cowboy...” Aubry says in a hoarse voice, and I can hear him trying to control his sobs. “Maggie’s dead.”
“What? What do you mean?” I sputter.
“She’s dead,” he wails loudly. “She’s dead! They shot her!”
My knees give out from under me and I start to screaming. I scream so loud—all of my pain and agony pouring out of my lungs—that I’m sure I woke up my entire floor. Cole shoots out of bed, runs over to me, and grabs the phone from my shaky hands. I double over and vomit all over our hardwood floor, and stay on my hands and knees shaking furiously. When I look back at Cole, he’s staring at me blankly with his mouth hanging open, like he can’t believe what he just heard.
I give myself ten minutes to pour out my angst and cry as hard as I can. When I look back at the clock, it is 5:27. I get up, concentrate on breathing, and take the phone from Cole, who’s clutching it tightly, clearly still in shock from the news. I try to sooth Aubry and tell him that I will take care of everything and that we’ll be over there soon. After I clean up after myself, I call and wake up Becky to give her the horrific news.
I make a note in my head of flowers, caskets, and burial sites that I’ve seen and wondered about along the years. I start to cry again—silently—as I speak to the mortician. Maggie Parker was found shot dead from a bullet to the head. Maggie Parker—the most selfless woman I’ve ever met. The woman who took us in—no questions asked. The woman who taught us to cook, clean, do laundry, and treat others the way we want to be treated. The woman who rooted for us when nobody else cared to. The woman who drove us to parties and movies and picked us up late at night, and never complained about it. The woman who kept us safe and out of trouble. Maggie Parker—the only mother three of us had ever known. Shot. Dead. Shot dead in her own home. Our home. The neighbors called the police when they heard the gunshot.
When Cole and I get to Aubry and Aimee’s apartment, Aimee greets us at the door and gives us each a long hug expressing her sympathy. Cole runs in and holds Aubry in a tight hug as they both grieve the loss of the wonderful woman who raised them. She may not have legally adopted Cole, but she was his mother as well. I place my hands over my throat and cry as I watch them comfort each other. When I fall to my knees, Aimee kneels down beside me and holds me in her arms, shedding her own silent tears beside me as she strokes my hair. I sit up on my knees and sob into her shoulder, and let her hold me tighter, until Cole and Aubry walk over to us and the four of us hold each other for a while. Once we compose ourselves enough, we head out to make the somber drive to Maggie’s house.
When we get there, police tape is all over the place. The house is turned over, papers everywhere, furniture scattered. It looks like a botched robbery, but nothing was taken. The guys start fixing the furniture and Aimee leaves to get us food. I walk in the kitchen and am transported back twenty-two years, when I see the red stains on the floor. I grab on to the edge of the counter to keep me from falling, and close my eyes to cast my feelings aside. A strangled sob escapes me when I open my eyes back up and head to the sink to get a pair of gloves. Once I put them on, I get a bucket of water and a scrubber, and get down on my knees. The more I scrub, the less I can see the floor, but it’s not because the blood stains are coming off, it’s because my vision is so blurred, that my tears are making it impossible to see anything.
“Baby,” Cole says in a pained voice. “Let me help you.” He gets down on his knees beside me and tries to take the scrub away from me, but I yank my arms away from him.
“No!” I yell. “I have to do it. I have to clean it! This is my fault!” I wail as my body shakes violently.
He grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me roughly one time. “Look at me!” he shouts. I do and all I see the sorrow in his bloodshot eyes, so I close my eyes. “Look at me, dammit!” My eyes remain closed as I shake my head stubbornly. “Look. At. Me. Blake,” he repeats again.
“I can’t,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
“Please. Please look at me,” he pleads brokenly as he lets go of my arms. I open my eyes and feel my face twist in agony as I start to cry again. I throw my arms around his neck and sob uncontrollably as I squeeze him.
“I’m so sorry,” I say in between sobs. “I’m so so sorry.”
He wraps his arms around me tightly. “Baby, it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. Please don’t blame yourself. I know your heart is as broken as ours. She was a mother to you too.”
“Oh God,” I say as my chest heaves. “Why? Why? Why her? WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?” Our bodies tremble as we hold each other, sitting over our loved one’s spilled blood, tasting the smell of iron and Clorox that now lingers around the kitchen.
He pushes away and wipes his face with the back of his long sleeved shirt before wiping mine with his thumbs and kissing my forehead.
“We’re going to be okay, baby. Leave this, let’s call a cleaning company to do this,” he says softly.
I shake my head. “No. I have to do it. Let me do it, please.” He takes a deep breath and nods slowly.
“Okay,” he agrees, “but let me help you.”
I don’t want his help I want to do it on my own, but he insists on helping me—like he always does. So we scrub together. We scrub until the skin is peeling from our knuckles.
Becky and Greg get in later that night and we all comfort each other by looking at photos of all of us together and telling stories about Maggie.
“You know she told Cole to stay away from you, right?” Aubry says smiling sadly.
“What do you mean? When?” I ask confused. I’d never heard that before.
“When you got here from Shelley’s. She sat us both down and she said she wasn’t worried about me because she didn’t see me ogle you. But Cole, she told him...what was it that she told you, dude?” Aubry asks turning his face to look at Cole.