She had it all set in her head, enough so that I’d found her with a bottle of pills, which was when I’d told her my plan. I’d never have verbalized it, not if I hadn’t seen her with the Valium, but I’d already mapped out how I was ending it. Though she’d begged me to reconsider, that wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t about to live in a world without her. I wasn’t about to suffer like Bear had without his Rene.
No one knew.
Not my brothers, not her sisters. Our kids were in the dark. Our family wouldn’t know until they found the letters we’d left them.
I wasn’t sad about it. What saddened me was watching her fade away.
A few more weeks, the doctors told me. A few more weeks of watching her get frailer and sicker, of watching her leave me.
I’d told her the second she died, I was gonna end it.
She didn’t like that. And my Keira, after all these years, was a bossy miss. She’d gotten used to calling me on my shit and wasn’t afraid to talk back.
Fifty-three years together.
Christ, we’d had some good times.
All our kids were married and had little monsters of their own. Hell, some of those even had their own kids.
We’d retired young, had come to California because my Keira had her heart set on living on the West Coast when Cyan had moved out here with her family to be nearer to Kelly. The two of them had always been inseparable, so close it was almost like they were born to be siblings.
With his thriving practice in Cali, she’d made the move, then we had. Shortly after, Phoenix had joined us, but Brook hadn’t and now ruled over Coshocton. I’d never imagined my youngest would take over as Prez, but the chapter was in safe hands.
They were all as settled as they could be, and with their inheritances, they’d be set for life. So would our grandkids. And maybe even their grandkids.
My mom might have thought I was trash, but she’d never realized how much money trash could make.
One man’s trash was another man’s treasure, after all…
"You having second thoughts?" she asked me.
I shook my head as I got to my feet with a grumble. Moving around was harder now, and to be honest, getting old sucked. I was ready for the next phase. I wasn’t scared because I knew we’d be together. I could handle anything so long as we had that.
"Of course not. I’m not the flighty one."
She narrowed her eyes at me then prodded the air with her hairbrush. "I’m not flighty."
I scoffed. "You keep telling yourself that, baby girl."
A soft laugh escaped her. "All these years, and I’m still that?"
"Don’t ask dumb questions."
"There are no dumb questions, just dumb people."
She’d gone to school to be a teacher when we’d moved out here and had spent a couple of years teaching kids with special needs.
That was my Keira. Always helping others.
"Don’t turn into a teacher with me. I’m a little old for your lessons."
Her beautiful smile still lit up the room. "You’re never too old. Didn’t I prove that?"
"Oldest undergrad at Berkeley." I pumped the air. "Still proud as shit."
She beamed at me as I settled my hand on her shoulder, then placed her fingers over mine.
"We packed each year with memories, didn’t we?"
"We sure did."
Our eyes clashed and held in the mirror, and I grinned at her, trying to show her that I wasn’t afraid. Trying to show her that the only thing that mattered in this world was her, and our love, and I wasn’t about to live without either—not for a week, never mind an hour. A minute without her was too damn long.
"You don’t have to do this, Asher."
"Baby girl, if you think, for one minute, I want to be on this shithole planet without you, you’re mistaken."
A shaky breath escaped her. "The kids… they’ll never forgive us for it. And you... They could still have you for a while longer."
"We both know you're kidding yourself thinking that." I shrugged, unafraid to admit that the second she passed over was the second I'd end shit too. There was no Storm without his Keira. "That’s on them if they don't forgive us. They can argue with us when we meet up again. If they’d have preferred to see you fade—" I broke off. "No. I don’t care what they think. We left them notes. They know we love them. They’ll never stop knowing that."
I’d placed the cross Keira had bought me on my first Father’s Day, one I’d worn throughout my life, so much that the engraving had faded long ago, into the envelope for Cyan. I hoped she wore it.
Much as I hoped my other kids would wear the pieces that mattered most to us. My wedding band, her first birthday gift. All the myriad things we’d collected over the years.
"Won’t make it easier on them."
"No, but they had to lose us at some point."
"True." She sighed like she was concerned, but I felt her relief as if it were a visceral entity between us. She was tired. So tired. "Help me up?"
I leaned over and settled her on her feet. She needed a walker now, but the doctor had told me that in the next few days, she’d have to stay in bed permanently. That was why we were doing this today. While she could still walk by herself, albeit slowly and painfully.
It took us a while to make it to the front door, but I savored every moment. Outside, my three-wheeler trike—easier on the bones and the old ass—sat waiting. It wasn’t as sleek as my Harley, but it was either that or give up riding bikes and neither me nor Keira had wanted that.
I was supposed to settle her on the backseat, but I wanted to be near her. So, instead, I indicated that she should lean against the trike as I took my place on the front seat, and said, "Your carriage awaits."
A laugh escaped her, one that took me through the years of our marriage. The good times, the best times, the highs and the surprises. It settled in my chest like a solid weight, and it powered me. Spurred me on.
I wanted to remember that.
I wanted that to be ringing in my ears as I died. Not her desperate gasps for breath. Not the beeps of the monitors as she left me.
Her laughter. Her joy. Markers that defined my life, that had made me the man standing here today instead of the desperate nobody I'd have been without her.
She was so tiny now that she settled between my thighs with ease, and that was when it occurred to me.
"Do you think you could sit on my Roadster?"
"How far is it to Gray Whale Cove?"
"Twenty minutes."
She thought about it, then nodded decisively which told me it’d be hard on her but she’d do it.
I sorted it so she was waiting for me on the trike as I dragged out the bike I hadn’t ridden in years. Cyan’s youngest, Louis, came out here and rode on it—a secret between me and him because his mom didn’t think he was old enough to ride yet. I could have told her he wouldn’t be old enough at thirty, but she wouldn’t listen. Cy was as stubborn as her mom and grandmother—and though it took a feat of strength to get my old leg over it, I managed.
Rolling out of the garage, I drove up to her, and the rumble between my thighs felt right. This all felt right. Now, I just had to get her on it.