“I don’t want to feel them, Chick. You have no idea how disgusted I am with myself for feeling this way. I’d never, ever hurt Allison when she’s sick—I wouldn’t leave her or betray her or do anything to make her life worse. But I do want to exorcise these demons that you’re resurrecting so we can all move on and I can protect her. I don’t want her to suffer another devastating blow and I could’ve done something to stop it.”
I close my eyes and fight back the tears. “I can’t do anything about how you feel.”
“No, but you can give her the meds to help her.”
Chapter 17
Fourteen Years Earlier
“Please pick up, please pick up,” I chant as I wait for Bryce to pick up. It’s been two weeks since we’ve spoken, and even then, it was less than five minutes that we talked. Lately it’s been the same routine: I call, miss him, he calls, and doesn’t reach me.
Around and around we go, never getting close enough. Everything is strained in my life right now. My mother is fading so fast and there’s nothing I can do to stop it, my father is so depressed he’s not eating, and my grades are the lowest they’ve ever been.
Mom told me today she was unhappy with the amount of time I was spending with her, that she wants me to have a life, but it’s not going to change.
We’re losing her.
She is growing sicker and they talked about hospice today.
I’m not ready for her to go and I could really use Bryce right now.
“Hi, this is Bryce, I’m not around so leave a message and I’ll call when I can.”
Beep.
“Bryce, hey, it’s me . . . I’ve been insanely busy and tried to call, but I guess you’re the same. It’s been too long since I’ve heard your voice and I just miss you. Mom isn’t doing well,” I say as I sit down, my head falling back against the couch. “I’m . . . sad. I’m scared too. It’s been so hard dealing with all this without you by my side.” I’m rambling, but my heart is breaking and I just want his arms around me. “Just please call me back.”
It’s six at night and I have no idea what he’s doing. Maybe he’s studying, maybe he’s out drinking, or sleeping for all I know. We’ve had nothing but a series of missed calls and a random email last week, which I’m pretty sure I forgot to respond to.
I close my eyes and my lip trembles while the sadness takes hold. How did we get here? When did we become this distant? Bryce and I were in sync. We were happy and in love. We had plans, damn it, and now we have nothing.
I don’t want to be dramatic, but I feel him drifting away from me.
Each day runs away from us and if we don’t do as we promised, we’re going to fall apart.
I curl up on the couch, clutching the pillow that used to smell like him and cry myself to sleep, hating how many things are leaving me all at once.
The phone blares in my ear, waking me. I rise up off the couch, searching for it, praying it’s Bryce.
“Hello?”
“Ren,” Everton’s voice fills the other end of the call.
I glance at the clock and see it’s one in the morning. Panic fills me because no one calls at this hour unless something is terribly wrong. “What is it?”
“Mom.”
I quickly get to my feet, throwing a jacket on, and a pair of shoes. I don’t even know if they match. “Where is she?”
“At the house. She couldn’t breathe . . . you need to get here.”
“I’m on my way!”
I hang up the phone, already halfway down the stairs, and once I get in the car, I push my hair back and release a few breaths. I can do this.
For my mother, I will keep it together.
The drive to my childhood home from Chicago seems to take forever. The entire way there, I tell myself I’ll be strong. I bargain with God, asking for just a little more time. “I’ll study harder,” I say as I grip the wheel. “I’ll be a better daughter, sister, and I’ll save lives. Please, just don’t take her yet. I’m not ready.”
I believe that He will grant me this. I have to have faith.
As I drive, my phone pings with a voicemail and I push play.
“Chick, it’s me, look . . . things are . . . strained, and I think maybe we should just take some time and think about why that is. I still love you, but this is much harder than I thought. I don’t know, I’m just feeling lonely and you’re busy,” Bryce’s voice is detached and my throat feels tight. “I’m not saying we break up, I’m saying we take a break and see where we’re at in a month. I’m sorry, babe, I really am.”
I throw the phone in the car and bang my head on the steering wheel. That’s how he breaks up with me? Tonight? On a voicemail?
No, I can’t do this. Tomorrow, once I have my mother all squared away, I’ll figure this all out, but right now, I can’t deal.
Chapter 18
“I already told you that I’m doing everything I can for Allison.”
“Are you punishing me? Is this because of the way things ended, now you want to make her suffer?”
Another tear falls down my cheek. “You think so little of me?”
Bryce breathes heavily out of his nose, not even able to look at me. “I just know what’s happening now isn’t her fault. I’m sorry for how things went. I was fucked up and alone. I missed you so much I couldn’t breathe. My life was falling apart without you in it. I did the only thing I thought I could . . . let you go.”
My heart is broken for the kids we were at that time. Sure, we were in our twenties, but in no way ready to make decisions that would affect the rest of our lives. “I’ve tried so hard to forget the way you made me feel. I was finally getting there, and then you showed up.”
“You weren’t the only one who has struggled, Ren. I loved you so deeply, I never thought I could love again,” he admits. “When I left that voicemail, I fucking lost it. I hated myself, and no woman compared to you.”
“Until Allison,” I finish the statement. “I can’t go backward anymore, Bryce. We need to move on, let go of the past. It’s going to destroy us both.”
He takes a step back, gripping the back of his neck. “I gave you up to save you, not destroy you.”
But destruction was all that came from that night. “My mom died the night you left that voicemail.” His eyes lift to mine. “I listened to it on the way to her, hearing you say you needed time or whatever it was . . . but I lost everything. I have been trying to find a way back to solid ground since then. Her loss was horrific, but losing you . . . I don’t even know how to describe what I felt at that.”
“I thought I was doing right by you,” he admits, “I knew you were broken up about splitting your time, so I thought if I took myself out of the equation, we’d find our way back to each other. Instead, two weeks later, I got a fucking box with my grandmother’s ring in it. No note. No call. Nothing. And I hated you for it, Ren. I swore I’d forget you because remembering, well, it hurt too damn much.”