by Marie James
Hell, he didn’t even stay away. He’s been at the house more than Alex has since Saturday night. It’s Tuesday morning, and despite what Ignacio thought, Alex didn’t give me any problem with going to school yesterday morning. It helped that Mom was awake and cognizant some parts of Sunday. Alex spent a lot of time in her room, reading to her when she was awake and sitting at her bedside while she rested.
He's been so strong since that first night, and his maturity right now is almost as heartbreaking as his tears would be.
“Oh, good,” Ignacio says as he enters the kitchen to find the grocery bags displayed on the counter. “I was hoping they’d deliver earlier today.”
“I told you not to do this again,” I mutter, needing to complain but still grateful I don’t have to leave the house to go shopping.
“And I told you I was hungry.”
“You could go back to your own house to eat.”
He grins as he begins pulling groceries from one of the bags. Him being here is both weird and familiar all at the same time. We never spent any time in this house together. My dad would have thrown a fit if he knew I was hanging out with Ignacio against his expressed wishes, but we spent a lot of time together, nonetheless. After Alex telling me that Dad told him he was grateful to Ignacio for the grandson he gave him, I also don’t feel like I’m dishonoring his memory like I would’ve if I hadn’t been told that.
He turns to face me. “Do you want me to leave?”
If I said yes, I know he’d give me the space. It’s been clear from his behavior and efforts that he’s trying to make my life easier not harder, but doesn’t he see how weird things are between us?
Maybe it’s because my mother is dying in the other room, and I’ve caught myself staring at his rock-hard ass twice already, and that’s just since he showed up this morning. Maybe it’s because I’ve found reasons to keep him here longer in the day when he mentions heading home. Maybe because despite what’s going on, the tragedy I’m facing, I put fucking mascara on this morning.
“If you have other things to do—”
“You stubborn—” His jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth. “I’d like to stay if you’re okay with that.”
I swallow before answering, praying my words don’t come out on a squeak. “I don’t mind you being here. I think it makes things easier for Alex to know that I’m not here alone in case something bad happens.”
That bad thing being Mom taking her last breath.
My hands shake, a tremble that comes and goes as I try to mentally prepare myself for the inevitable, as I begin to pull items from the grocery bags.
“I can do this if you want to take a breather,” he offers.
He knows I’m exhausted. It’s been nonstop visits from hospice getting everything set up. The home health nurse only came a few times a week, but now we have a hospice nurse, a hospice aide, the chaplain from the hospice company, as well as the minister from Mom’s church coming and going, multiple visits each day. Although they said from the beginning they’re here to make things easier, I still feel obligated to act as a host when they arrive, making sure to offer them something to eat or drink, needing to give them a full report of what’s been going on with Mom since they last visited. I’m exhausted. Thankfully, my boss understands what’s going on, having dealt with the same for an elderly grandparent not long ago, and is allowing me family medical leave so I can stay home and help. Truthfully, if she’d said no, I would’ve quit my job on the spot, worrying about bills and getting another job later. I’m glad I don’t have that to worry about for now.
“I need to stay busy.”
“You’re going to wear yourself out.”
We pass each other, him heading to the pantry, me carrying an armful of fresh produce.
“I’m already there.”
“Take a break.”
Is he not hearing a word I’m saying? I swear men just don’t get it sometimes.
“I can do the groceries.”
“You just want to hide the candy,” I tease, knowing there’s another bag of M&Ms somewhere in the delivery because Alex and he polished off the first bag that was delivered while watching a televised baseball game last night.
“I won’t apologize for the sweet tooth. I normally work out six days a week.”
Unless he’s been doing that after leaving here late in the evening the last couple of days, he’s been skipping those training sessions. Another realization that makes me think back to a time when I watched him lift weights when we were younger. Knowing I liked it when he did push-ups without a shirt on, he made sure to strip down before getting into position. There’s just something about a man’s back muscles working hard that gets me fired up.
I clear my throat as if he can see inside my head and go back to the counter for another load of things needing to go into the fridge.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
“The groceries?” I hedge, trying to steer the conversation away from where my thoughts have taken me.
He doesn’t allow for it, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s another manipulation, like almost kissing me the other night before pulling away. I couldn’t sleep that night, mostly because that day, getting terrible news about my mom, was one of the top five worst days of my life. He drew me in only to slam that door because he wants to hurt me again.
He chuckles. “The groceries? No, Tinley. You’re thinking about me working out. I can take my shirt off and get on the floor if it’ll help get your head out of that dark place it’s always going.”
“You’re so full of yourself,” I tell him, a smile creeping up unbidden.
I turn to find him closer to me than I realized he was, forcing me to tilt my head back to look into his dark, stormy eyes.
His teeth scrape over his bottom lip in that way that has always had the power to make me perk up and take notice. It’s the same now as it was thirteen years ago, and I find myself entranced with the sight of his mouth, the way his cupid’s bow fits perfectly on his face.
My own tongue betrays my interest by swiping across my bottom lip. A groan echoes around us, and I’m too far gone to determine which one of us made the sound.
“Do you know how fucking tempting you are?”
He steps in closer, the celery, carrots, and head of lettuce in my hands keeping him from closing the distance completely.
This is a bad idea. I know it as sure as the doctors know my mother came back home to die. But just like the insidious cancer eating away at her, I have no power to stop this either.
“Ignacio,” I whisper, a plea for him to pump the brakes because I’m not able.
“Tinley,” he counters, but there’s no mocking tone to his voice as he leans over the produce in my arms to get his face closer to mine.
His palm brushes my cheek, the touch a hot brand on my skin. I fail at not leaning into it. God, it’s been so long since I’ve been touched by a man. Years since one has shown even a hint of the sincerity and desperate need I can see in Ignacio’s eyes. Being wanted, even if nothing can happen, is like a balm to my soul, a reassurance that I’m not someone he can look past and not desire. Him being who he is and the heaps of stuff between us becomes inconsequential the closer he gets.
My eyes flutter closed just as his mouth brushes my own, a whimper of need and pain escaping my lips.
“She’s resting comfortably.”
We snap apart, the head of lettuce in my hands falling to the floor and rolling across the room.
Patricia, the hospice nurse, bends down to pick it up as if she didn’t just interrupt what could’ve been the biggest mistake I’ve made in over a decade. She hands it back to me as Ignacio steps away and begins carrying canned goods to the pantry.
“I think the new meds will make her able to get restful sleep. Do you have a few minutes to talk about the side effects and what to look for?”
I nod, setting down the produce and following her out of the room. It takes fifteen minutes
for Patricia to explain all the things she needs to tell me, having made it as easy as possible with a chart on what medications to give and how often.
When we’re done, I walk out of Mom’s room to find Ignacio not in the house and his truck missing from the curb. Although I breathe a sigh of relief not to have to face him again so soon after nearly kissing him for the second time, I feel a little twinge of regret for being interrupted before it could happen in the first place.
Hopefully, he stays gone for a while. Dealing with the emotions he’s dragged back to the surface after so long, in addition to what’s happening with my mother and making sure Alex is as comfortable with what’s going on as I can is exhausting. Doing all of that while he’s right in my face would be impossible.
Chapter 17
Ignacio
I never understood how people could move around each other, be in the same space after something happens that shouldn’t have and not talk about it. Yet here I am living that reality.
Four days ago, I nearly kissed Tinley. Again.
Four days ago, I hauled ass out of her house with the intent to stay away until she or Alex called to tell me they needed or wanted me there. It lasted two hours. I went back to my shitty little house, geared up for a run, completed said run in record time, fueled by need and rage and utter helplessness, only to shower and go right back to her house.
Last night, I didn’t even leave. I fell asleep on the couch watching television with Alex only to wake up this morning to the sun glaring on my face through a crack in the front curtains. I’m counting the blanket covering me when I woke as a peace offering and forgiveness for taking advantage of the situation four days ago and nearly pressing my mouth to hers.
“Can we go home now?” Alex asks, his breaths still coming out in a rush after the home run he scored a few minutes ago.
Tinley stayed home, but insisted Alex attend his game when he tried to beg off.
The crowd cheered them on with renewed enthusiasm since they won last week, and their enthusiasm could be felt in every smiling face as the boys did it again today. This town needs a little cheer, but I could tell even though he played well, Alex’s heart just isn’t in it. His mind is back home with his grandmother who has only gotten progressively worse since she came home from the hospital.
“Sure thing,” I tell him. “Think we should stop and grab lunch?”
He mulls this over, his teeth pulling at loose skin on his bottom lip, something I’ve noticed him doing more often lately.
“I know your mom loves that Asian food place on Beckett.”
“What about Nanny? She can’t eat spicy foods.”
“Buddy.” I want to wrap him in a hug when realization makes his face fall.
“Nanny can’t eat anymore.” His eyes dart away, his face set in scowl when he realizes he’s still in public, and there’s no way he can break down here where his peers may see and give him shit for it later.
“But I think if we get your mom the orange chicken, lo Mein, and a couple egg rolls that she may not complain when we turn the game on tonight.”
He nods, but I can tell his heart just isn’t in this either.
The ride to the restaurant, the wait for food, and the drive back to his house are all spent in silence. I can’t open my mouth to tell him everything is going to be okay, because it won’t be. He’s going to hurt for a long time. He’ll always feel the loss of his grandmother. Downplaying it or trying to get him to focus on the good memories he has had with her would not only be disrespectful to his feelings, but it would also be rude considering Brooke is still alive, although the end is near.
Tinley doesn’t get excited when we come home with more food than the three of us could possibly eat in an evening. She doesn’t even come out of Brooke’s room when Alex walks into the house like she has every day this week when he got home from school.
I know from the tension in the air the second we walk in that it won’t be long. The woman I love but don’t have the balls to tell and my son are about to have their world blown apart, and there’s nothing I can do to take away or ease the pain that’s coming.
Alex leaves me, unconcerned for the food we just picked up and goes to find his mom. I busy myself getting plates and silverware together for when they’re ready to eat.
A knock hits the front door, and I rush to answer it because the two people I care about most in the world could possibly be saying their final goodbyes, and that needs to be something they can do uninterrupted.
A face from my past is staring back at me when I tug the door open.
“The fuck?” Cooper Holland snaps when he sees me.
Time hasn’t been generous with him. Even through Tinley’s stress and hard work she’s still the same beautiful angel she was thirteen years ago. Her older brother on the other hand looks like he’s aged thirty years. His sunken eyes, pointed cheekbones, and the unhappy look on his face makes the man look like every minute of every single day since the last time I saw him has been spent in agony.
“Hey, man,” I say, still unwilling to step aside for him to enter. It’s not my place to keep this man from his family, but he was supposed to be here days ago.
I only overheard part of the conversation Tinley had with him the day after she came home from the hospital with the news of what was going on with Brooke, but he had assured her he’d head this way immediately. That was nearly a week ago.
“My key didn’t work in the front door. Is that your doing?”
Cooper shoulders past me into the house, his head snapping in every direction as if he’s waiting for something to jump out and get him. It’s clear from the overexaggerated actions that he’s on something. Not that it surprises me. The Cooper I knew and hung out with before Tinley moved to town was a party animal, willing to use any drug, drink any concoction to have a good time. He was the life of the party, always quick to make people laugh or do ridiculous shit to get attention. He didn’t stay in town long after Tinley and her parents were forced to move back after her dad lost his job.
Tinley had said he didn’t get along with their dad, but I imagine it goes deeper than that. There’s always more to the story.
“I don’t know about the locks, Coop. They could’ve been changed years ago. How long has it been since you’ve been back?”
He spins, glaring at me. “What fucking business is it of yours? This is my mom’s house.”
I hold my hands up, indicating I didn’t mean anything by it and take a step back.
In any other situation, I would step forward and let the man who’s talking to me this way know that I won’t tolerate the disrespect, but this situation is different. This isn’t my house, and confrontation because of my own ego doesn’t have a place here.
“Why are you even here?”
His eyes are still darting around the house, and I realize it’s more of an appraising look than one of paranoia.
“I’m here for Alex and Tinley. All of this has been hard on them.”
He huffs. “So, you’re here to save the day? Always the fucking hero. Looks like nothing has changed.”
I tilt my head in confusion. When we were friends—if you can even call us that—I was just as wild, just as willing to do stupid shit for a thrill. I never thought I’d be accused of having a hero complex.
“I understand you sniffing around my sister, but Alex—” His eyes rove over my face and I see the moment he realizes that Alex is my son.
I’m floored that he didn’t know. Did Tinley keep the paternity a secret from him, too? I know they aren’t close, but still. They’re siblings.
“You motherfucker.” He leans in closer, his words coming out on a hiss. “You fucked my sister?”
“Cooper,” I sigh. “Now isn’t the time to get into all of that.”
“You knocked her up and left her to fend for herself?”
If I wasn’t able to see how easily he’s working himself up, I’d respond, but it’s clear the man is about to blow his to
p.
This protective display is misplaced. I can remember him being pissed his parents and sister were moving to town. He only cared about his place in the house, his ability to manipulate his grandmother and get what he wanted. As teens, I thought it was awesome. All it took was a few words and a sad face and his grandmother was willing to give him money for just about anything. She’d hand over the keys to her car without question, and that was how we got around town more times than not back then. The family moving in would put a stop to that, and Cooper hated them for it.
“Listen,” I cajole. “We’ll have time to talk about all of this later, but I think—”
“You think? I don’t give a fuck what you think! I want you out of the goddamn house!”
“Now isn’t the time, Coop.”
My own anger is spiking, but unlike Cooper, I’m not high and haven’t been abusing drugs since puberty.
“Cooper?”
The man spins around, and the sight of Tinley’s face makes him disappear from my consideration completely.
Jesus, Brooke is gone. I know it the second I see her. I never knew what heartbreak really looked like until this moment. The pain in her features is palpable. Then I hear Alex crying.
Chapter 18
Tinley
I rub small circles on Alex’s back as he cries quietly. I’ve stopped worrying about my own tears and how they’ve been falling for hours and soaking my shirt. As we talk softly to Mom, her breathing growing more and more ragged with each passing second, I still continue to pray for a miracle even when I know there isn’t one to be had.
I knew this day was coming. I knew it was coming fast, but knowing it’s here is killing a small part inside of me. I know parents don’t want to outlive their children. Her leaving this world first is how it’s meant to be, but I never thought thirty-one years was all I was going to get. My grandmother passed away when I was twenty-one. Mom got forty-five years with her mother. I feel like I’m being short-changed, and Alex is really getting shafted.
