This woman might be on death’s bed, but all I can think about is him.
Canyon.
The boy she kicked out and whose heart will shatter into a million pieces if anything happens to her.
Fuck.
“Stay with me, Aimee. You have to.”
She fucking has to.
Canyon
I don’t understand.
I don’t fucking understand.
She’s my mom. Aimee Voss. Not some drug addict itching for her next fix. This doesn’t make sense. It’s a dream. Has to be. A goddamn nightmare. My mother didn’t OD on heroin. Didn’t happen. Nope.
The hospital waiting room blurs in front of me as a fresh wave of unshed tears fills my lids. They fall, streaking soundlessly down my hot cheeks, and dripping from my jaw, dotting my jeans with my disbelief and utter devastation.
She’ll live through this.
I know she will.
I’m too young to lose my mother. Just too damn young. I refuse to see any other outcome.
Despite our fathers sitting directly across from us, Alis reaches over, squeezing my thigh and rubbing his thumb over the tearstained denim. When he’d called on the way to the hospital, I couldn’t comprehend the words—my mom and heroin. Still doesn’t compute. But, here we are, waiting for answers hours later. The scent of antiseptic is thick in the air. A halogen light above us flickers and hums. Air kicks on, blowing a chilly breeze from the vent and cooling my wet cheeks.
It’s real.
I’m here. Hurting—fucking aching—because Mom screwed up. Big time.
Anger rears its ugly head, reminding me how she got to this point in the first place. Because of him. Dad. The motherfucker who left his wife to be with his gay best friend. He ruined her. Dad took the sweet, loving mother I always knew, carved out a piece of her soul, and left her as she is. Empty and barely there.
My venomous glare lifts, seeking out the man who destroyed everything. But, seeing my sister curled up in his lap like she’s five years old again is enough to snuff out my rage. If I wasn’t as big as my dad, hell, I’d feel inclined to want to crawl into his lap too.
I need reassurance.
That everything is going to be okay.
“I’m going to grab something to drink,” Alis says, giving my thigh another squeeze. “Why don’t you walk with me?”
I don’t want to go anywhere.
And yet, I need to escape.
The storm clouds brewing outside remind me of the hurricane of horrible thoughts slashing back and forth inside my head.
“We’ll call for you the minute we hear something,” Dad assures me, reading my silent fears.
“Yeah,” I croak out, dragging my gaze from the window. “Okay.”
Alis and I stand. His touch on the small of my back is gentle as he guides me away from the waiting area and down the hall toward the bank of vending and soda machines. I’m numb as we walk, my arms growing cold and feeling foreign as they dangle beside me. When we’re out of sight from the waiting area, Alis’s hand slides into my icy one, his fingers threading with mine. The warmth and comfort of something as simple as his hand have a sob lodging itself in my throat. A pained moan escapes me.
I’m cracking.
I can feel it happening one tiny fissure at a time. But they’re spreading and fracturing and splintering faster than I can stop them. The pain is going to spill out. It’ll leak out everywhere, drowning those around me.
Alis stops, pulling me into his strong arms. My forehead falls to his shoulder, and I angle my face against his neck, desperate for his touch. He squeezes me tight, murmuring soft words that are meant to soothe my battered soul. With our height difference, it’s awkward and feels like I should be the one holding him, but I’m too fragmented. If he lets go, I’ll break away until there’s nothing left of me.
His palm rubs up and down my back. I soak the collar of his T-shirt and the side of his neck with my silent tears. I don’t know what’ll happen to my mom, but I can’t live without her. We may have been on the outs, but it wasn’t forever.
“I knew something was wrong,” I choke out. “I should have…I should—”
“Don’t,” Alis says in a firm tone. “Don’t do that. This is out of your control. Please don’t take the blame for what happened.”
He pulls away, capturing my face in his hands. The fierce expression on his face makes me want to get lost in it, forgetting about the painful present. His mahogany eyes dart briefly down the hall before he presses a sweet kiss to my lips. It breathes life into my quickly dying heart.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” he promises, kissing me again and again. “Trust me.”
How little Alister Sommers thinks he has control over my mother’s fate is beyond me, but oh how I crave to believe him. If Mom is okay, I will be okay.
“I’m scared.” My whispered words barely leave my mouth before he quiets me with a kiss.
“I know you are, Canny. I’m scared too.”
We hear footsteps squeaking nearby on the linoleum and reluctantly pull apart. He steps over to the vending machine while I swipe at my tears. A minute later, he hands me a Coke. A small smile tugs at my lips, and it’s contagious because he smiles too.
Guilt chases away the brief glimpse of happiness. Today is his birthday. It’s ruined because my mom overdosed on drugs. He should be enjoying his own birthday blowjob or eating cake or opening my gift. Not this. Not holding me up as I try desperately not to fall.
His intelligent stare cuts into me, probing and sure. I don’t have to voice my words because he somehow knows. He shakes his head and offers another smile.
“This is the most important thing right now,” he says, lifting a hand and swiping away another tear with his thumb. “Understood? This. You. Her. That’s all that matters.”
I nod, thankful as fuck he’s by my side. If I had to deal with this all alone, it’d eat me alive. Carrie has Dad. I would have had no one. Luckily, I have Alis.
“Canyon,” Quinn calls out, startling both me and Alis. He makes his way toward us. “There you are.”
Alis jerks back, absently picking at the label of his Coke bottle. “Any word, Dad?”
“The doctor is talking to Ryan and Carrie now.” He gestures toward the waiting room. “She’s alive.”
I nearly collapse, but Alis grips my bicep, hauling me back toward where Dad is. Dad and Carrie are both nodding like bobble heads as the doctor speaks. As soon as I join them, he circles back for me.
She’s alive.
She’ll be okay.
But…
“She has a long road to recovery ahead of her,” the doctor says with a worried frown. “It’d be in her best interest if she went to a rehab center. There’s only so much we can do in the ER. Make sure she’s stable and safe. The rest will be up to her and her family.”
“She’ll be taken care of,” Dad assures him. “I’ll make some calls in the morning.”
“Can we see her?” I ask, my voice husky and raw with emotion.
“Not tonight. It’s past visiting hours, and she’s sleeping. She’s already been moved to a room, though, so she’ll be able to get good rest for the night.”