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TRUST(49)
Author: Deborah Bladon

“Someone is angry.” A soft voice comes at me at the worst possible time.

I never want Roxy to see me like this. In her eyes, I’m the stoic older brother who is always in control, but for the past two weeks, I feel as though that’s all gone to hell.

“Roxy,” I say her name in an even tone. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have school?”

Her hand dips into one of the pockets of her overalls. She tugs out a pocket watch that once belonged to her late father. “Check the day and time, Harrison. It’s four o’clock, and it’s Sunday.”

“Oh,” I respond because I’ve lost track of what day of the week it is.

I’ve lost track of most things since I walked out of Ava’s apartment a little over two weeks ago.

I’ve had to fight tooth and nail with myself not to run back there and beg for her forgiveness, but that would be a selfish act on my part.

I did what I had to, and even though it’s killing me to know that I hurt her, there wasn’t another option.

“Mom wants to know if we’re all having dinner together tonight.” She glances over her shoulder. “She’s kissing Donald in the elevator. That’s what is taking them so long. “

For the first time in days, I crack a smile. “Really?”

Her hands clasp together in front of her. “They are in love. It’s L.O.V.E.”

If that’s true, I’m happy for both of them.

Roxy steps into my office. I’m not the only person here today, but for the most part, the offices of Food Harmony are working on a scaled back staff. When we started this venture, it was important to Jos that we try and stick to a Monday to Friday, nine a.m. to six p.m. schedule. She wanted our employees to have a healthy work and life balance.

It’s been years since I’ve known what that feels like.

“Can I ask you something, Harrison?”

I gaze up at Roxy’s face as she approaches my desk. “Sure.”

She kicks her foot forward. “Why are you sad?”

I shouldn’t be surprised that she picked up on that. I’ve been hell to deal with lately. I haven’t done well with masking my feelings. I’ve turned Roxy down a few times when she’s asked me to make her a pizza and when she invited me to take her to the movies last Saturday, I passed because the film she wanted to see was only playing in the same theater as the film that featured Ava’s composition.

I couldn’t put myself through that. It’s been hard enough to function when it comes to eating and sleeping.

I’ve forgone both too many times in the past two weeks.

“Did someone die, Harry?”

It’s the first time she’s called me that, but it’s not the first time she’s asked me that question.

She lost her father before she knew him. It took years for her to understand the finality of that.

“No one died,” I reassure her.

Her bottom lip trembles. “Are you going to die?”

I push to stand and round the desk in record time. As soon as I kneel on the floor in front of her, I gather her in my arms.

“I saw something in your bathroom,” she whispers. “You left the drawer unlocked the other day when you picked me up from school. There were medicine bottles. I read the labels, but I couldn’t remember the names of them, so I couldn’t check online. I didn’t tell Mom. She can’t handle losing you.”

I hold her tightly against me. “I’m not going to die.”

“But you’re sick.” Her small hand pats the center of my back. “Are you sick, Harry?”

That’s a complicated question to answer, so I’m grateful when I see my mom and Donald appear in the open doorway of my office.

“Working on weekends is too much,” my mom shares her unwanted opinion. “You should be out having fun, Harrison. You used to be so adventurous. Swimming with sharks. Climbing mountains. You haven’t done anything like that in months. Don’t you miss it?”

“No,” I answer honestly as I straighten to an upright position. “I did those things to prove something to myself, to try and escape the inevitable. I thought I could cram a lifetime of experiences into a narrow window of time.”

“What?” My mother perks a brow. “What does that mean?”

I should have done this years ago. I should have trusted in my family’s love and support. “I’ll explain during dinner at my house. Call Jos and Ryden and invite them to join us. Don’t take no for an answer.”

Dragging her phone out of her designer bag, she nods. “Is Donald invited?”

I glance at the man who has been a friend for many years and who I suspect will fill the role of my stepfather for years to come. “You’re family, Donald. I want you there too.”

 

 

As Joslyn plates the dessert she brought with her in the kitchen, I gaze out the window at the moon. It’s a sure thing almost every night unless nature decides otherwise and a storm rolls in. There are so few guaranteed things in life that I’d be a fool not to appreciate it, especially now that I have a moment alone.

“You’ve always been my hero, Harrison.”

I bow my head. “That’s bullshit, Ryden. We both know it.”

His footsteps on the hardwood echo through the room as he moves closer to where I’m standing. “I know what you did. I knew then that you paid for everything. You saw to it that I got the hockey training I wanted and that I was enrolled in The Buchanan School. You hooked me up with my agent too.”

I made a few calls to arrange a meeting between Ryden and Keats Morgan. He’s the best in the business, and there was no way in hell I’d allow anyone else to control my brother’s destiny.

I can’t deny any of it, so I nod. “I’ve always wanted the best for you.”

“I want that for you too.” His voice cracks. “Tell me how to fix this, Harrison. Tell me what to do.”

I turn on my heel to face my brother.

Emotion is swimming in his eyes. He was the first to react when I sat my family down before dinner and confessed my truth to them.

He cursed. My mom and Jos sobbed. It was Roxy who took to her phone to search for a cure for MS.

Multiple sclerosis.

It’s been my enemy since I was diagnosed when I was twenty-six. I’ve had good days and bad days. I’ve seen every specialist in the tri-state area. So far, I’m winning the battle, but it’s the fight of my life, and I’ll be in that ring with it for the rest of my days.

“Live your life,” I tell him. “Accomplish everything you’re supposed to. I’ll be on the sidelines watching it all.”

He nods. “I can do that.”

“I’m doing all right,” I say honestly. “I have a fantastic team of doctors, and I follow their orders. I eat clean. I exercise. Everyone’s experience with MS is different, and I’ve been fortunate so far. It won’t be that way forever. I’m very aware of that.”

He swallows hard. “Are you scared?”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t, so I don’t. “I’m concerned. I think about the future and what that looks like for me.”

“You can have a normal life,” he begins, raking his hand through his hair. “Rox read me some of that stuff she found online. You can work, get married, and have kids.”

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