Hold on to Hope

by Jackson, A. L.

  Awe tugged at my mouth. The fact that this was goin’ to be my life. “It’s my honor to care for him, Evan. Always. Every day. Without question.”

  Understanding moved through his features, and he dropped his forehead to mine. “Thank you, Frankie. Thank you for being you.” He inhaled deep before he brushed his lips to mine.

  It didn’t matter how many times he kissed me—every time, the boy managed to hitch my breath. He pried himself away, the softest smirk hooking at the corner of his delicious mouth as he stood and headed for the en suite bathroom.

  His glorious ass bare and on display.

  God, the man was gorgeous.

  I nibbled at my thumbnail, watching him go, wonderin’ again if I was dreaming, but knowing if something felt this good, it had to be real.

  I heard the showerhead turn on, and I laid there just listening to the sounds of life happening around me. The stark, sudden change in my path that I’d been destined for all along.

  Evan was quick, in and out of the shower and dressed in ten minutes flat.

  Excited.

  Anxious.

  I walked him to the front door and he dipped down, kissed my mouth, smiled so sweet. “I love you, Frankie Leigh.”

  I clung to his shirt for the beat of a second, couldn’t do anything but sign against his chest, YOU ARE MY FAVORITE.

  I knew when he got back, today had to be the day. I couldn’t keep this in any longer. It wasn’t fair or right or good.

  The last wedge between us.

  One he didn’t even know existed.

  It was going to hurt.

  Slash and cut and flay.

  But we were strong enough to make it through it.

  We had to be.

  Milo did circles at my ankles, as happy as could be as I locked the door behind Evan.

  I petted him behind the ears. “Hey, Milo Boy. What do you think about all of this? Completely crazy, right?”

  He whimpered approval, and I dipped down to kiss him on his snout before I straightened, struck again by this house that Evan had asked me to help him make a home.

  Evan had been nervous that he was bein’ bold, making another decision for the two of us without my input. But he’d wanted to surprise me. To give me a gift when he’d said he’d missed so many. He’d been adamant that if I didn’t love it, we could pick a different place. He’d wanted to snag it quickly since it was so close to our parents’ neighborhood, and he knew he wanted to raise Everett with his grandparents nearby.

  I couldn’t have agreed more.

  Bonus points?

  The man had really good taste.

  The house?

  It was magic.

  Gorgeous and warm and more than I ever could have imagined.

  Bigger than any fairytale I could have conjured.

  I knew Evan had inherited a ton of money from his grandfather, money he’d never wanted, blood relatives that he would have just as soon have forgotten.

  But sometimes life brought you a buoy that you didn’t anticipate.

  There for you when you needed it most.

  I went into the kitchen that I was sure would even make Aunt Hope jealous, and believe me, she had a kitchen to envy. I dug into the fridge that had already been stocked to find something to make for breakfast.

  I chopped and hummed and swayed, my heart lighting up when the baby monitor I had sitting on the counter next to me crackled. Immediately, I glanced at the image of Everett climbing to his feet, taking hold of the railing, and jumpin’ up and down.

  “Da? Fi-fi? Da?”

  There was no staunching the rush of affection that flooded me.

  Head to toe.

  It wasn’t like I wanted to stop it, anyway.

  It was a welcomed invasion.

  Setting aside the knife, I walked down the hall to his room and opened the door. The second I did, Everett started clapping his welcome. “Fi-Fi! Fi-Fi! Puppy!”

  He pointed at Milo who was hot on my heels, Everett’s smile so wide and open and full of joy.

  “Good mornin’, sweet boy. Did you have a good sleep?”

  “Ehvie up.” He did that adorable nod where his head bobbed all the way to his scrunched shoulders, and I got that melty feeling I felt every time I looked at this child.

  I didn’t hesitate, I picked him up from under the arms and swung him into mine. I cuddled him close, kissed his temple, inhaled his sweet baby scent. “Hey there, my little man.”

  He rubbed his entire face on my chest, and I hugged him tight as I carried him over to his changing table. I laid him down, staring down at this boy who looked so much like his daddy, all emerald trusting eyes and wide sloppy grins as he bounced his fist in the air and blabbered me a story that I cooed right back.

  And I felt it.

  The connection.

  Our spirits twined.

  I changed him out of his diaper and into fresh clothes. “There we go, my sweet Ehvie.”

  So, it was catchin’.

  His little voice embedded in my mind and written on my soul.

  I picked him back up. “Are you hungry?”

  “Eat. Ehvie eat.” Another nod.

  We went into the kitchen, Milo trailing us, wagging his tail, Everett babbling and pointing to him as we went.

  Joy pressed down on my chest. The tightness no longer a feeling of wrong or something missing, but rather that I was getting too full with all that was right.

  Setting him onto his feet on the floor, I filled a plastic sectioned plate with the eggs I’d already scrambled and a few pieces of fruit I’d chopped.

  “Side?” he asked, tottering over for the door to the backyard.

  “Do you want to eat outside?”

  He smacked his hands on the glass.

  I guessed that was a yes.

  Laughing under my breath, I grabbed his plate and his sippy cup.

  With my elbow, I edged open the massive sliding door that basically was a wall.

  Did I mention this house was magic?

  I was still in awe.

  Couldn’t believe this was our home.

  Couldn’t believe this was our life.

  That Evan now was legally Everett’s father.

  That we were so close to getting all of this figured out.

  I wasn’t such a fool to think that Ashley wouldn’t come knocking one day. I just hoped Evan would have taken enough steps that Everett’s home would be established.

  That there was no chance that she could ever fully take him away.

  We stepped out onto the patio that was ground-height, something that would make it easy for Everett to run out and play in the fenced backyard.

  My mama and daddy had brought by the cutest toddler patio table set as a house warming gift last night, but I think it was a whole lot more of a statement than anything else.

  That they were accepting him, too.

  That he was goin’ to be their grandchild every bit as much as he was going to be my son.

  I knew Evan had spoken with them.

  That he’d gone old-fashioned and pretty much asked my daddy for my hand.

  I had to admit, I appreciated it, that he’d come right out and had been straightforward and admitted the things we should have confessed in the past. That this time we were doing it right.

  Now I just had to take that one last step.

  Fear threatened to take hold, but I stamped it down.

  It no longer had any place.

  I settled Everett down on one chair and placed his food in front of him.

  “There you go, my sweet boy.”

  Tenderly, I ran my hand over the top of his head. He tipped it up when I did, rubbing his head around like he loved the connection, and he scrunched up his adorable nose, making a snorting noise.

  I was a puddle of heart-warmed bliss.

  Giggles flooded into the warm morning air, everything his joy, and he pinched some eggs between his chubby fingers and offered them to me. “Fi-Fi, eat.”

&n
bsp; I pretended to gobble it all up, and he laughed his belly laugh, and I didn’t think I’d ever felt so happy in my entire life.

  “Okay, Everett’s turn. He has to eat all the rest so he can grow so, so, so big.”

  He started shoveling the eggs and the diced pieces of fruit into his mouth, babbling at Milo who was sitting at the ready to get whatever scraps fell to the ground.

  The bounty promised to be plenty.

  “Aww gone,” he proclaimed, his plate only left with a few bits of egg that he couldn’t get, and he guzzled down a drink of his milk before he was climbing up and toddling across the lawn to the sandbox that was set up under the shade of a tree.

  I watched.

  Affection overflowing.

  My cell rang and I glanced at it where I’d left it on the patio table.

  Carly.

  I grinned as I answered it. “Hey.”

  “Oh my God. You are in so much trouble. Tell me you did not get engaged and then didn’t call and tell me.”

  Oh crap.

  Light laughter slipped free, and I was biting at my bottom lip, trying to stop the rush of joy as I looked back at Everett.

  “I was kinda busy last night,” I told her.

  “Um. Hello. Rude. You are never supposed to be too busy for me.”

  I giggled. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll forgive you just as long as I get to pick your dress.”

  “Ha. Not gonna happen. You’ll have me wearin’ some boring old thing.”

  “Yeah, and I’ll be savin’ you from picking some tulled-out disaster. If you aren’t careful, you’re going to look like a bad rendition of Madonna from the 80s.”

  I chuckled a little. “Bite your tongue. I will be rockin’ that vibe. You know that’s exactly what I’ll be going after—except in pink.”

  “Oh lord help us . . . I can only imagine what atrocity the bridesmaid’s dresses are gonna be.”

  On a smile, I gazed out at Everett who was inside the sandbox. Standing there facing away. Holding a yellow shovel. Milo whined, doing a circle around him.

  There was just . . . something off.

  He stood there.

  Unmoving.

  Like he was in a daze.

  Confused, maybe?

  A feeling that hit the air.

  That ugly, horrible spot inside of me flared.

  “I’ve got to go,” I told Carly, not even giving her a chance to say goodbye before I was sprinting across the yard.

  Milo started yipping, making these whining, howling noises.

  That was right when Everett toppled forward.

  Face-first into the sand.

  Oh my god.

  Images flashed.

  Evan only a little boy. Hooked up to all those machines. Her favorite, favorite froggy.

  “Hurry, Daddy. You got to take me right now so I can give him my heart. He needs a good one.”

  I raced across the lawn. Refusing it. This couldn’t be happening. “No. No, no, no, Everett, no.”

  Pain lanced.

  Cutting me open wide.

  Grief cutting me in two.

  The loss. The loss.

  She’s gone. She’s gone.

  Dizziness swept in, and my mind spun, and my world tipped out onto the ground.

  And I wanted to give them all my hearts. Patch them up and make them better and love them hard enough that they could never be stolen away.

  So that they could breathe and live and smile.

  I dropped to my knees at his side, trying not to shout out in grief when I rolled him over.

  When I saw his face was purpled and swollen, his lips turning blue.

  A scream bubbled up from my soul.

  Agony. Agony.

  I struggled to remain upright.

  Not to pass out.

  I was shaking. Shaking and shaking. Sickness curled my stomach. Bile crawled up my throat.

  “Everett . . . sweet boy, no,” I pled, blackness sweeping in to blind me at the edges of my sight. “Please, Ehvie, no.”

  Fingers trembling, I touched his neck, searching for a pulse. Thready and dulled.

  Not him. Please, God, not him, too.

  I begged it a thousand times as I dialed 9-1-1, begged it harder when the operator came on the line when I shouted, “Please, someone help.”

  Thirty

  Evan

  “This should be the last one.” My attorney slid another document across the desk for me to sign.

  I scanned over the words, anxiousness riding through my being.

  Couldn’t wait to get this done. Needed it finished. Needed to know my son would have the best care possible.

  My phone buzzed where I had it rested on my thigh.

  Again.

  For about the fifth time.

  Anxiety flared.

  I tried to ignore it, to give this my entire focus.

  When it buzzed with an actual call which was something my parents had done when they needed to get my attention, a sort of SOS, I quickly signed the few lines on the page and lifted my finger. “Excuse me for a second, but I need to check this.”

  “Not a problem,” he said, thumbing through the last documents that were sitting in front of him.

  I flipped into my phone, trying to shake the uneasy feeling, trying to convince myself that it was only Frankie texting to ask something about the house or Everett or an inconsequential thing, but hating that I knew she wouldn’t interrupt a meeting that was so important if what she needed to say wasn’t more so.

  My eyes flew over the words.

  Frankie Leigh: Come to GL General. Hurry.

  My sight blurred, and I was pretty sure I swayed to the side as I staggered to my feet.

  Everett. Everett. Everett.

  My soul chanted his name.

  This little boy who had swept into my life like a windstorm to rearrange everything.

  To set it back to right.

  No.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  It couldn’t.

  He was going to be spared. I’d felt it. Prayed so damn hard for it.

  “Mr. Bryant?” At least that was what I thought the attorney said, but I wasn’t sure I was seeing straight when his mouth moved.

  No capacity to read the words or feel their meaning.

  Because the only thing I felt was this.

  This consuming, gutting pain.

  I blinked a thousand times, trying to get my bearings. “I have to go,” I told him, not waiting for a response before I bolted out the door and down the long corridor to the lobby. The whole way, I tried to process through the rest of the texts that were waiting for me as I fumbled to get to my car.

  Dad: Evan, you need to get down to GL General.

  Dad: I can come pick you up.

  Dad: Are you there?

  Dad: Goddamn it, Evan, answer your phone.

  Jumping into my car, I turned over the ignition and gunned it, car skidding around the corner.

  Sweat slicking my skin in dread.

  My heart twisted up tight in the horror.

  I made the six-minute drive in three.

  I blinked frantically, trying to remain coherent.

  Rejecting this idea.

  The curse. He couldn’t have inherited it.

  Grief grabbed me by the throat. Squeezed so tight I was pretty sure I was going to pass out by the time I flew into the hospital parking lot. I came to a jolting stop in the wrap-around drive. Didn’t even bother to turn off the engine. I jumped out and raced for the double doors. They skated open, the cold air inside blasting me in the face.

  Chills spread.

  Ice cold.

  I started for the emergency room desk, only to come to a dead stop when I saw Dad coming through the double doors.

  Torment on this face.

  Agony clawing my insides.

  I shifted directions, hands moving as I raced for him.

  OH GOD. WHERE’S EVERETT? IS HE OKAY? WHAT HAPPENED?

 
; Dad quickly signed, HE’S OKAY. HE’S OKAY.

  I nearly crumbled to the ground right there.

  Relief.

  I slammed into a wall of it.

  Stumbling forward.

  Walls spinning, disoriented by the magnitude of it.

  Dad grabbed me by the outside of the shoulders to steady me.

  “He’s okay,” he reiterated.

  “Oh God.” It raked up my throat, and I was blinking, trying to rearrange the picture of what I’d thought I was going to be walking in on. Chest heaving, I stared at my dad. “What happened?”

  Dad put up a hand like it was a sign of caution. Like he needed me to slow down so he could talk to me through the storm clouding my mind. “They are running more tests to make sure he is clear, but it looks like he had a severe allergic reaction with anaphylaxis. The pediatric cardiologist came in to see him. They aren’t going to release him until they are completely certain, but right now, it doesn’t appear to have anything to do with his heart.”

  That might not have been good news to some parents.

  A severe allergy.

  But for me? It was like telling me my kid had won the lottery.

  I swallowed around the rocks in my throat. “Thank God,” I breathed out, still blinking, trying to slow the racing of my pulse. “I thought . . . I thought . . .”

  Fuck. I couldn’t even say it.

  He tightened his hold on the outside of my arms. “I know what you thought, Evan. All of us did. It was Frankie who was there with him, and she . . .”

  His expression went dim.

  I roughed a hand through my hair.

  I knew exactly where her mind had gone. The terror she had to have felt. My poor, sweet girl. It was something I’d wanted to protect her from. The constant fear that you were riding the edge of losing something you loved most.

  One slip, one second, and it was gone.

  I NEED TO GET BACK THERE. I NEED TO GET TO THEM.

  I started to round him, but Dad stopped me, and he angled his head down to make sure I was seeing him.

  “Before you go in there, I need to warn you, Frankie is not okay.”