by P. Stormcrow
“Go to the back and get settled. I’ll bring you something to help.” Andy herded her behind the bar and toward the door of the staff-slash-back room.
Emma pulled out one of the folding chairs and sat on it, staring into space as she tried to wrap her brain around what the doctor had just told her. She had been on her way out when the woman had come in and asked to talk. Mom had insisted she leave for work, anyway.
And she had texted Elliot earlier, telling him everything was okay.
Emma laughed.
Andy walked in, some concoction in hand, concern on his face. Emma snapped her mouth shut and tasted salt. Oh, how silly? She was crying and laughing at the same time.
He kneeled in front of her and held the glass up. “Drink.”
Emma took the glass and downed it in one gulp before she coughed and spluttered. “What the…?”
Andy grinned at her. “Prairie Fire. Burns good, right?”
She shook her head and stuck her tongue out. Her eyes watered for a whole new reason. “Yeah, okay. It burns,” she choked out, and Andy’s grin widened.
“Come on.” He rose and slapped Emma on her back.
“Thanks.” It wasn’t okay. Nothing was. But the normalcy helped Emma have some sense of stability, enough that she stood, wiped the bottom lids of her eyes and followed Andy out.
The bar grew busy enough to keep her occupied, even if she couldn’t fake a smile to save her life.
“Hey, I think lover boy is looking for you.” Andy came up from behind and tapped her shoulder.
About to protest, Emma spun around only for the words to die in her throat as she followed where Andy pointed. Corey. Fuck. She should have never told Andy about the incident on Saturday or that she had given Corey her phone number as a reward for telling off asshole Tim.
“What lover boy?” Graham asked from behind them, making both Andy and her jump. Neither of them had spotted Graham coming in early for his shift.
“Dude!” Andy punched Graham in the arm.
“Ow. What?” Graham rubbed his bicep. “Wait! Were you guys talking about Corey McMaster? Oh shit, girl. He’s heading this way.”
“Stop acting like a fangirl, Graham,” Emma scolded just in time.
“Hi, Emma.” The smile Corey had for her fell. “Are you okay?”
Emma was about to reply she was fine when Andy butted in. “Her mom’s sick.”
“I’m sorry.” And he was. There was nothing fake or casual about those two words. “How bad is it?”
Maybe it was Corey’s genuine tone or the warmth in his eyes, but Emma found she wanted to confide in him. “Cancer,” she blurted and winced at the look of pity he gave her.
“Hey, Emma, why don’t you head out? I’ve got this,” Graham intercepted and winked at Emma. She could almost strangle him.
It was still an hour and a half until the end of her shift, though. “Are you sure?” Emma asked.
“Yeah, as long as you promise that you’ll go home and get some rest after you see your mom.” When Emma stared at him stunned, Graham shrugged. “Andy told me over the phone. I know how hard it is. My grandma got diagnosed last year. Wrecked my mom, then she got sick. Don’t be like Ma, girl.”
“Okay, okay!” Emma held up her hands in surrender.
“Want some company?” Corey spoke at last.
“I…” How to tell him off?
“Tell you what. Give me your keys and I’ll drive you to the hospital. You can grab a quick nap in the car.”
It was too tempting an offer, but she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “And in return…?”
Corey grinned. “You can make me another Emma Special next time.”
Emma chuckled under her breath. “Deal.”
Chapter Nine
Dear Elliot,
I don’t understand you. Him. You didn’t even reply to my text and now Mom… How can you be so warm and caring one minute then such a jerk in another?
That doesn’t matter now, though. What matters right now is doing everything I can to help Mom beat cancer. She can do it. If anyone can, she can.
Because I don’t know what I would do if she doesn’t.
With love,
Emma
By the time Emma arrived at her mother’s room at Vancouver General, more known as VGH to the locals, Anna was already asleep. The nurse poked her head in but left without a word. Minutes later, a doctor opened the door.
“A moment, Ms. Jones?” she whispered, and Emma nodded, rising to follow.
As they stepped out into the hall, Emma spied Corey sitting on a bench. He gave her an encouraging smile but didn’t get up, giving her space with the doctor. She nodded, surprised that he had stayed.
“Ms. Jones,” the doctor started.
“Just Emma.” She refocused on the woman in front of her.
“Emma. I’m Dr. Gupta, one of the oncologists working with the hospital. I believe you talked to one of my colleagues, Dr. Johnston, earlier?”
Emma nodded, her stomach doing somersaults.
“I checked on your mom earlier and ran a few more tests. I won’t sugarcoat this. Your mom’s cancer is progressing much more aggressively than we expected. I’d like to talk to you about treatment options.”
“Okay.” Emma wasn’t certain how she choked the word out, much less appear so calm.
“Do you want to come to my office? Or do you want to stay here?” She sounded so kind. Emma didn’t need kind right now.
“Here’s fine.”
“All right. I understand.” Dr. Gupta took a deep breath. “Normally we would recommend surgery right away. We would take out your mother’s uterus, spleen and parts of the intestines. However, given that your mother just had hip surgery, there is a much greater risk.”
“Has the chemo shrunk the tumor enough?”
Dr. Gupta shook her head. “That’s the other risk. We rarely suggest surgery so close to another one, but if we don’t operate, the cancer will spread beyond what we—”
“Did you talk to Mom?” Emma asked, already sick with the dread.
“Dr. Johnston spoke to Mrs. Jones earlier, but the pain medication has kept her drowsy. We need a decision soon, though, and since your mother appointed you to be her decision-maker, we thought we’d speak with you.”
“How big of a risk?” Emma asked.
The doctor’s reply had staggered her. How could she make a decision like that? But it wasn’t much of a choice. If they waited to do surgery, she had no doubts that it would be too late.
“Emma?” Dr. Gupta clasped her arm. “I know how hard this is. If you want to take some time, I can come back—”
“No. Let’s go ahead with it. Give me a chance to talk to my mom in the morning, but let’s proceed.”
Dr. Gupta dipped her head in acknowledgment. “I’ll get them to schedule the procedure.”
“Thanks.” Emma watched her march off before she pivoted and walked toward Corey.
He must have read her expression, as he didn’t comment. “Do you want to stay a bit longer or head home?”
Emma glanced up at him for a moment and wondered why he was being so nice, but she wouldn’t look a gift horse in its mouth. Instead, she asked in a small voice. “Can I get a hug instead?”
“Sure.” Corey opened his arms, and Emma threw herself into them. The tightness he wrapped his arms around her with comforted her. She didn’t cry, but she could feel the tears threatening.
They remained that way for who knew how long. Emma pulled back first, but Corey released her right away. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
“What about you?”
“I live close enough to walk home from yours. It’s a clear night.”
“Give me a minute.” Emma didn’t wait for an answer but returned to the room. Her mom remained asleep with the oxygen tubes in her nostrils. The sight almost broke her heart.
“Hang in there, Mom. I’ll be back in the morning.” She bent down to brush her lips by Anna’s forehead then rose. Leave now or she
never would.
As soon as she closed the door to her mom’s room behind her, Corey drew near.
“Ready to go?”
“Yeah.”
The drive home remained quiet with Corey giving her space. As they sped through the darkening twilight down roads lined with blooming cherry blossoms, Emma’s eyes drooped. She cranked the window down and ran her hand against the wind.
“Emma, if there’s anything I can help with…” Corey trailed off, but his expectations hung in the air between them.
Lover boy. That was what Andy and Graham had called him. Perhaps if life had been normal, she would have the time to explore, but everything was too complicated, and she didn’t have much energy for anyone else. Better to rip the Band-Aid off. She tilted her head toward him. “Corey, I appreciate what you’re doing, but I just have nothing to give right now.”
A sad smile lurked in the corner of his lips. “I’m not asking for anything right now.”
Emma opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out and she looked out of the window instead at the blur of pinks and greens. “Why then?”
Corey chuckled. “Because you’re an interesting person. Because you never gave crap what anyone else thought, and you always stood up to your bullies. Because you’re gorgeous and strong.”
“Oh.” Despite everything, Emma’s cheeks heated, and she grew warm.
“You don’t need to say anything or agree to anything. Right now, I’d like to just be there for you, even as a friend.”
Emma relaxed and smiled for the first time since the new diagnosis. “Thank you.”
Corey pulled up to the gates.
“Here, use this.” Emma dug into her leather jacket pocket, withdrew her fob and handed it to him.
He lowered the window on his side, held the fob up to the pad and waited until the gate opened before driving up to the house.
Emma glanced up at the single light on in Elliot’s room and paid it no heed.
Corey turned off the car. “Want me to walk you in?”
Does such a guy actually exist? Emma studied him more. Despite the darkness, she made out the clean-shaved, strong jawline, the bedhead of hair. Why he didn’t already have a girlfriend was beyond her. At least that was what she assumed.
“You know what? Want to come in for a cup of coffee? As a friend.”
He grinned at her. “Sure, as a friend.”
They both exited the car and made their way up to the front entrance. But as soon as Emma opened the door, she froze.
Something was knocking on a wall upstairs in a steady rhythm. A woman’s moans and pleas echoed from upstairs through the foyer. They crescendoed just as Corey stepped in behind her until it turned into repeated screams of, “I’m coming.”
Embarrassment. Fury. Emma didn’t know what she felt more. Elliot had brought a woman home. She shouldn’t care. It was none of her business. But how dare he when her mom was still in the hospital? How dare he when she was here?
No, she shouldn’t care. She didn’t care. She bit her lips with more viciousness than she intended.
“Coffee, right?” Corey prompted, his voice gentle.
“Yeah, sorry.” Emma hurried into the house and led him to the kitchen.
“So…” Corey slid into one of the high bar-top chairs by the counter.
Emma owed him an explanation, and she sucked in a breath as she puttered around to put the kettle on and to retrieve the French press. “Do you know why they called me Rags back in elementary school?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “We don’t own this place. My mom is a caretaker, and we look after it. The Carmichaels live in the UK and they use this place sometimes for vacation or when Mr. Carmichael has business here. His son is living with us right now.”
“And I’m guessing that was him.”
Emma nodded as she brought two mugs. “Sugar? Cream?”
“Just cream, thank you.”
She moved over to the fridge just as Elliot entered the kitchen in nothing but a pair of flannel pajama pants and a robe. Corey and Emma both stared at him as he lifted an eyebrow. There was a stiffness in the way Elliot held himself, and with a start, Emma figured it out. Something had pissed him off…a lot.
“Brought a guest with you, I see. I thought you were at work—or is that what you do on your job? Pick up guys?”
“Hey,” Corey protested, but Emma walked up to him and slapped him hard.
“How dare you,” Emma growled.
Elliot held his reddening cheek but smirked. He stank of alcohol, but Emma’s fury had taken her beyond caring. “Hit the nail on the head, did I?”
“Corey, you should go,” Emma said through gritted teeth.
“Sure, I’ll call and check in tomorrow?” Corey sounded more hesitant than his words.
“Yes, please.” Emma spun around and walked over to give him a hug. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t worry about it. Call earlier if you need backup.”
Emma didn’t reply but let him go. Corey left quick enough, slipping past Elliot, despite his bulk. Elliot lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers in goodbye, a nasty smirk on his lips.
“You are an asshole,” she stated as Elliot moved to retrieve the jug of milk from the fridge. He didn’t bother with a glass but chugged it straight from the container.
“And it’s none of your business. Your dad allows me to bring guests in at my discretion.” Her voice grew in volume. “Besides, don’t you have your own guest to take care of?”
Elliot stepped closer and tapped her nose with his forefinger
“And that’s none of your business.”
God, he was pissed drunk. How the hell did he even get it up?
No, the last thing she needed to think about was his dick.
“I’m going to bed,” she muttered, anger tinging her words, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
“You sure you don’t want to join us? I bet you’d look real sexy draped across that blonde’s body, your hair fanned out on a pillow.” He touched the wisps that had escaped her bun.
“Go to hell.” Emma shoved him away and fled to her room.
For the rest of the night, she tossed and turned in her bed, covering her ears with her pillow as she reviewed the events of the day in her mind. Even when the sound of voices and a door closing made it through her pillow, she still clung to her anger to deal with the pain.
Because she refused to admit that Elliot had broken her heart once again.
Chapter Ten
Humans are, by nature, selfish. Look at their philosophy. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. It’s about making sure you survive first, that your needs are met before you start even thinking about others.
But humans are also funny creatures, and sometimes they are bent on self-destruction rather than survival. So, what do they do? They destroy everything and everyone around them first.
Elliot stared at the garbage he’d written, crumpled the piece of paper and threw it over his shoulder. It was all poppycock, as if he were trying to explain to Emma through his books what had happened the previous night. What had been happening to him for a while.
What a load of bull.
The temptation to remain in his room for the rest of the day whispered to the coward in him, but the sounds of movement below beckoned him. He rubbed his temples to combat his hangover headache and glared at the bed.
The name of his partner from the previous night eluded him, but he remembered agreeing to a one-night stand. With a sudden burst of courage, he decided. He had to explain, had to get Emma to understand.
Because the one image that persisted in his mind through all the fragments of his memory was the one of Emma’s face, anger warring with sadness and beneath it all, so much raw pain.
Elliot stumbled downstairs in his sweatpants and followed the clattering of plates. There she stood, with a messy bun, a light sweater and torn jeans. She didn’t bother acknowledging his presence but continued to assemble what looked like a sandwi
ch.
“Emma,” he started but stopped when she pointed behind her, still without facing him. He followed the direction of her forefinger to see two pieces of toast with peanut butter sitting at the table along with a glass of water. Breakfast. Doghouse breakfast.
“Emma,” he tried again, only for her to hold up a hand to stop him.
She set down her knife, to his relief, and pivoted from the counter space next to the sink to face him. She was aiming for a neutral expression by pursing her lips into a thin line as she regarded him, but he could see the fury still flickering in those blues of hers. “I’m going to be at the hospital all day today. The sandwiches in the fridge can tide you over. Mom is having surgery again today.”
There was so much to process in those few sentences, but the last alarmed him the most.
“I thought you said everything was fine.”
“After I texted you, the doctor came and told me mom’s cancer has gotten worse.”
“Shit, Emma.” Elliot rubbed his face and took a step closer. Emma backed away in response.
“Don’t. Just don’t.” Emma sniffled. “I… I…”
“Emma, I’m sorry.”
Emma froze and stared at him with wide eyes. Elliot sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. Where would he begin?
“I am…not good with hospitals. It sent me on a bender and one thing led to another. It was a one-night stand,” he finished. Christ, how much lamer could he sound?
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Emma’s voice turned into frost.
“No, I just wanted you to understand—”
“No. Who you sleep with is none of my business. Your life is none of my business ever since you walked out of mine.”
He knew it. She was still not over what had happened. Understandable. He hated himself for it too. But before he could respond to that, Emma barged on ahead.
“I am here to take care of this house and your meals and that’s it.” As she spoke, the ice turned into a fiery rage. “I don’t care what you do, but how dare you accuse me of picking up boys and bringing them home?”
Elliot winced and tried to recall the moment but failed. “Shit. I did that?”
