I set my cup down and rose to my feet, ready to call an end to the conversation. “You move on from Wyatt, and then maybe you can tell me what to do.”
“Yeah, sure. Just one small difference between those two scenarios, Vee. Jace didn’t cheat on you, did he?”
And just like that, the happiness from the night with Easton vanished, popping just like some delicate balloon floating through the air.
I pushed past her, heading for my bedroom. “Thanks for the tea.”
But there was no sanctuary in the pink and tan room. No peace to be found. I paced over the plush carpet and worried my lip, wishing I were back with Easton in his bed. Wishing I were back in Chicago in my own bed.
Wishing I were anywhere but here.
Jace didn’t cheat, did he?
No, he hadn’t. That honor fell completely on me.
Dahlia’s words spun through my mind, loud and bombastic. But underneath the noise, setting a rhythm I couldn’t quite pin down, were Easton’s words from the night at the trailer park. The ones that had filled me with shame and dread. The ones about his cousin…and his friend Dalton.
My cousin cheated on him, so we sort of took his side.
Easton had walked away from family because of cheating. Had hated it enough to side with the one who’d been cheated on. We’d been dancing around each other and spiraling closer for weeks, but he still didn’t know. He had no clue the true history of Cowgirl Vee and the sex tape. And that fact, that truth told so late in the game, had the potential to ruin whatever I might possibly have with Easton.
Good news wasn’t exactly what I’d been expecting the next morning. “What do you mean, you feel better?”
Grandma shrugged, scrubbing the kitchen sink as if her life depended on it. “I feel better. I think I’m over the worst of the adjusting to the chemo.”
Dahlia and I met eyes, her looking about as unsure as I felt. “Okay,” she said, stretching the word out to fill several seconds. “But you have chemo later today, right?”
“No, I meet with my oncologist this afternoon, though.” Grandma rinsed out the dish sponge and set it back in its holder, still focusing on tasks instead of us. Still…hiding.
“I can take you,” I offered, wishing for anything close to solidity beneath my feet.
“Mary’s going with me,” Grandma said as she grabbed her scouring pad from under the sink before heading to the stove. “You two girls can do other things.”
“Not happening.” I joined Dahlia, the two of us standing as a unit. A confused but wary unit. “What the hell is going on?”
“Nothing.” Grandma tried to laugh, but there was no humor behind it. Not truth.
“Don’t lie to us,” I said.
That caught her attention. Grandma sighed and turned around, clutching the edge of the counter as if she needed a lifeline. “I don’t want to upset you girls.”
Dahlia flicked her eyes in my direction before refocusing on Grandma. “Why would you upset us?”
Grandma wiped off the counter and set her pad down, all with slow and precise movements. Stealing time. “I want you to understand that I’ve thought a lot about this.”
A knot formed in my stomach. “About what?”
Her pale eyes met mine, then slid over to Dahlia. “I’m not going through with the chemo.”
The clock in the family room ticked altogether too loud as the seconds passed. No other noises infiltrated the space. No other interruptions. It was as if we existed solely to count down those seconds, to dread each break in the silence. Each moment that we grew closer to losing the woman who seemed to be surrendering to death.
“No,” Dahlia said with a shake of her head. “You can’t just give in.”
“I’m not giving in.”
“Then what do you call it?” I asked, the pressure in my head growing with each infernal second marked off by the clock. “The doctors gave you good odds with chemo.”
“Good odds to extend my life a little, not to make a recovery.” Grandma sighed and led the way into the dining room, where she sat at the head of the table. She waited until Dahlia and I sat as well, giving us time to get settled before she sat up straighter and took a deep breath. “Girls, the chemo is hard on me.”
“We knew that was likely to be the case,” I said.
“True, but I didn’t know how bad it would be.” She gave us a small smile. “I don’t want to spend my last months so sick that I can barely make it out of bed.”
Dahlia sniffled and reached out to hold my hand. “But if you stop the chemo—”
“Don’t,” Grandma interrupted. “I die either way. There’s no medical intervention to stop that. The chemo was only going to delay the inevitable.”
I sat in silence, staring at the woman who’d raised me. The one who’d loved me through every second of my life even when I didn’t deserve it. I’d known when her diagnosis had come in that she’d be leaving us sooner than I’d like, but I’d hoped for the impossible. For more time than her body was willing to give us. That hope died right there at the table.
“How long?” I asked, knowing she’d already had this discussion with her doctors if she was so solid in her decision.
Grandma hesitated for only a moment. “Six months to a year is a solid estimate.”
My cheeks grew wet, and my eyes burned as tears I didn’t want to cry fell. Six months was nothing. It wasn’t enough time to pay her back for all she’d done for me. It wasn’t enough time to show her how much she meant to me. Hell, it wasn’t enough time for me to figure out how to say goodbye to her. But it was enough time for her, and there was no way I could take that decision away from her.
“Okay,” I said as I wiped the tears away. “Okay.”
“That’s it?” Dahlia asked, looking ready to do battle. “Grandma throws in the towel, and you say okay? This is so not okay.”
“Dahlia—”
“It’s her choice,” I said, interrupting Grandma. “We don’t have the right to tell her how to live her life or at what point she’s had enough. She gets to decide that.”
“So, you’re just going to give up?” Dahlia turned her angry eyes on Grandma, making me want to jump in between them. “You’re going to be like Vee and run away when things get tough?”
“That’s enough,” Grandma said before I could even respond. Before I could get over that particular knife to the back. “This is my life, my body, and my decision. I’m not giving up, but I’m also not going to suffer through my last days just to give myself more suffering. And that has nothing to do with what Violet does or does not do in her life, Dahlia Marie.”
Dahlia wilted, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. “Sorry, Violet. I didn’t mean to throw you into the middle like that.”
And though I nodded, though I accepted her apology without a word, the hurt still bloomed harsh and bright in my chest.
“Good,” Grandma said. “Violet, I’d love it if you could stay a little longer. Even if you’re not here to help me, I’ve missed you and would like to spend some time with you.”
“I… Yeah,” I whispered, my voice rough and broken. “I have a couple more days before I need to get back.”
“Good. And, Dahlia? I’d like for you to spend a little more time with me. I don’t want to get in the way of your work, but I want to take advantage of every moment I have left.”
Dahlia sagged, tears running down her face already. “Of course. Anything you want.”
“Good. Now, I’m going over to talk to Mary for a little bit. Maybe you two should take a moment to make sure we’re all on the same page here because I won’t be changing my mind.” Grandma headed for the door without another word, leaving Dahlia and me at the table. The silence grew heavy, thick with tension in a way it hadn’t before. Even that infernal clock couldn’t break the moment.
But I could. “I’m sorry I ran away the way I did.”
Dahlia looked up at me, her eyes wide and surprised. “I never thought you’d act
ually say that.”
I shrugged. “It needed to be said. I can’t regret making a life where I felt comfortable after everything that happened, but I can be sorry I missed out on more time with Grandma.”
“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “Me too.”
“But you’re here—still. You live with her.”
“But I work too much. Maybe if I’d chosen a different job, I’d have more time for a personal life.”
I huffed and sat back. “We’re a couple of real winners, aren’t we?”
“Totally.”
“What do we do?”
She lifted one shoulder. “We do what we can to make sure her last days are the best they can be.”
Hours later, after many more tears and moments of despair, while the sun made its final show before tucking itself away for the night, I lay in my childhood bed and thought over Grandma’s decision. She wasn’t running from death or her cancer, but she was choosing how she wanted to go out. Choosing how she wanted to live before that choice was taken away from her. I longed to have that level of confidence, that strength within to say screw it and do exactly what I wanted to do. I wasn’t brave enough, wasn’t sure of how to move forward half the time. But she was, and it was inspiring.
In a moment of pure guts, I grabbed my phone and sent a message to the one person I wanted to talk to. The only one who could help me make sense of what was in my head. I reached out instead of running, and though the moment was fraught with fear on my end, it was also oddly empowering.
Grandma’s stopping her cancer treatment. She doesn’t want to spend her last days sick.
Easton came back immediately, as if he’d been waiting for my text.
She’s a strong woman. What can I do?
Nothing. We’re okay, I just wanted to—
I waited, my fingers over the screen, knowing what I should type to finish the message: I just wanted to let you know. I don’t need anything. I’m fine.
But I wasn’t fine, and I wasn’t going to be fine anytime soon. There was no sense in lying about it. I erased the message I’d planned to hide behind, and I told him the truth.
I can’t handle this alone.
I pressed send and held my breath. Asking for help wasn’t something I was used to—hell, it wasn’t something I had ever thought I’d be willing to do—but then came Easton, and all my old rules went out the window. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to ask for anything. I could only throw him my own version of an SOS signal and hope he understood.
I rolled onto my side and waited as the bubbles that indicated he was typing appeared. Would he get it? Would he figure out what I needed? The message wasn’t exactly clear.
But I never should have doubted him.
I’m coming. Give me fifteen minutes to wrap up, and I’ll be there.
I gripped my phone as more tears fell. Almost happy tears this time. Relieved ones. I’d reached out, and he’d answered my call. He was a good man, one I didn’t deserve. One I wished I’d found in so many different places and situations. But that was an impossibility. Easton was as Downriver as they came, and I was going to have to figure out how to handle that.
I’ll be waiting.
CHAPTER TWENTY
EASTON
“Why do you suddenly look like your cat died?” Colton asked as he strolled into the office.
“What?” I glanced up from my phone, still stuck on the fact that Violet had sent me that message.
“Your face. It seems broken. Everything all right?”
“Yeah. I just…” I huffed a breath, trying hard to resettle myself. “Violet’s grandma is stopping her cancer treatment.”
“Shit,” he said, leaning against the desk. “How’s Violet taking it?”
“She said she doesn’t want to be alone.”
Colton’s eyebrows flew up. “Well, that’s unexpected.”
“Yeah.” I jumped out of my chair, the reality of what Violet had just done adding heat to my fire. She’d reached out instead of running. Without so many words, she’d asked me for help. I still had about fifty things to do, and that damn Land Rover still sat in one of my bays, needing to be finished, but work would have to wait. For once, I wasn’t putting my business before everything else. Violet needed me. There was no fucking way I was failing her. “Can you close up for me?”
“Sure,” Colton said, following me into the garage. “Anything else I can do?”
I grabbed my keys and looked around, unable to see the disarray of a shop in busy season. Unable to force my mind away from anything but my girl. “Finish that crappy engine rebuild for me.”
“Yeah, not really possible, my friend.”
“I figured. Finishing that brake job and closing up will be enough.”
“Then, go. I’ve got this.”
“Thanks.” I was out the door and running to my truck seconds later. The engine thundered when I started it up, and the tires squealed when I popped the clutch and slammed the gas pedal down. Fuck speed limits and railroad tracks that could bust a suspension system faster than anything else—Violet needed me.
The front door opened as I pulled into the driveway, and Violet appeared. She looked wan, sad and pale and altogether not right. I threw the truck into park and jumped out, nearly running across her driveway. I didn’t even give myself time to speak, couldn’t figure out what needed to be said. All I could do was grab her, pick her up, and carry her back toward my truck so I could get her alone. I needed her safe and with me, someplace where I could focus solely on her to make sure she was okay. I craved it.
And the cab of my truck was going to have to do.
“You okay?” I asked as soon as I slammed the door behind me. I’d pushed Violet across the seat, barely giving myself room to climb up. But once we were tucked away inside, once it was just her and me, I reached for her again. Pulled her tight. Clung to her. “Talk to me, Violet.”
She shook in my arms, her breaths coming fast. My shirt growing wet with her tears. “She doesn’t want to live her last months sick from the chemo.”
I ran a hand over her back, tangling my fingers in her hair at times. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” she murmured. “I feel like I wasted so much time.”
I closed my eyes and pressed my lips to the top of her head, understanding that one all too well. “Yeah, I don’t think that ever really goes away.”
We stayed like that for what felt like forever, the two of us wrapped around each other. Not talking, not needing to, barely even moving as we simply existed together. The reality of the situation heavy between us. Violet would have to watch her grandma die, knowing with every day that her time was growing shorter. Wondering if every cough or headache was a sign that her time was drawing to a close.
A living hell for sure.
“Was it hard?” she asked suddenly, pulling me from the thoughts I’d let myself be distracted by.
“Was what hard?”
“Losing him…when your dad left. Was it as hard to get used to him not being there?”
I took a deep breath, letting myself remember. “Yeah, but it was a different situation. I had a lot of anger at how he left us.”
She nodded and sniffled, still clinging. Still shaking. “I lost my mom when I was just a toddler, but I don’t really remember, you know? I’m not sure if I should remember. It could be that I forgot because I was so young when it happened, or I might have blocked it out along the way to protect myself.”
“Yeah, it could be either.”
“I won’t have that luxury this time.”
I yanked her closer, forcing her into my lap as I adjusted my position so I could hold on to more of her body. “No, you won’t. But you won’t be alone either. I’ve got you.”
And I did. I’d do anything for her, including reminding myself of the worst point in my life to help her through this. That moment was all I needed to know that I’d lost my grip on my restraint. There was no more holding back, no more bullshit friends lie to m
yself. Hell, I doubted I’d be able to hide it another second.
God help us both, but the girl was mine, and I was going to do whatever it took to keep her with me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
VIOLET
It took me close to an hour to calm down again. An hour that Easton spent being a quiet, calm, and soothing force. I so didn’t deserve him.
“Thanks for coming for me.” I sat in the middle of the bench seat, staring at Grandma’s porch light glowing in the darkness and not wanting to leave the safety of Easton’s truck. Not that the house wasn’t safe, but it wasn’t…Easton safe. There were memories inside that brick building that haunted me, smells and decorations that brought back the days when Jace would come storming through the door or sneaking through a window. Add into that the last few weeks of Grandma being so sick, of telling me she was giving up any hope of extending her life, and I was through. That house would never again be my home because of the ghosts inside, and it certainly wasn’t where I wanted to be right then.
I hadn’t realized I’d been crying again until Easton wiped his thumb over my cheek to collect my tear.
Without a word, he pressed his finger under my chin to force my eyes to his, peering at me. “What’s wrong?”
Everything. “Nothing.”
His lips tightened even as his brow furrowed. “You’re sitting here like you’re about to go to the guillotine. What do you need?”
I stared, my heart racing, words battering about in my head. Seeking answers to a question I hadn’t been prepared to hear. Had anyone asked me about my needs before? Had anyone cared enough to stop everything and come to my aid? Anyone who wasn’t family, at least? I peered at Easton and let words and wants and base needs cycle through my head until finally, I opened my mouth. “I don’t want to be here.”
Easton leaned closer, holding my head up with his fingers as his thumb brushed over my lips. “Here as in Downriver, here as in this house, or here as in with me?”
Pop The Clutch: A Second Gear Romance Page 18
