by Ella Fox
I am a kind of numb I never knew existed. For four days, I have prayed and prayed and prayed some more for a miracle, and every single one has gone unanswered.
I’d known it was bad when Jack and Dan showed up at my door, but I wasn’t prepared for the reality of arriving at Children’s Hospital to the news that my son needed bilateral below the knee amputations. In the hours and days since, things haven’t gotten any better. My sons mangled and bruised from head to toe body cannot recover, and now his precious life is coming to an end. Brady has no brain activity and with the machines that have done all the work for him now off, he will die within minutes.
If hell exists it can’t be any worse than knowing that there’s no hope. For all intents and purposes, my son has been gone since the moment that squad car drove into the park, but I fought to believe that something miraculous would occur. It didn’t and I feel the weight of the decision I had to make like an albatross around my neck. I know that Joel is responsible for my son’s condition, but I’m the one who had to okay turning off support. He’s about to die and it’s my fault.
There’s footage of the incident since someone from the other side of the park who happened to be recording his kid playing basketball turned when he saw the police car and got the whole thing. I can’t watch it—not now and maybe not ever—but Dan came and told me that Allison’s cause of death was due to her jumping in front of Brady to shield him the very moment she realized what was happening. In the last second of her life, she sprang into action like any good parent would, something that I know I should be grateful for.
I’m not grateful, though. I’m angry—and most of that anger is with myself. What kind of a father am I that I ever allowed her to have the flimsy visitation schedule she wanted? Why didn’t I tell her to fuck off the first time she disappeared for months on end? Barring that, why didn’t I fight harder or do more to get Joel’s badge revoked? Why didn’t I know what a fucking danger he was?
I failed at the most important job a person can have, and that failure led to this.
It’s been six minutes since the last machine was turned off, and every one has felt like a hundred years. I thought the removal of life support would be quick but it’s not, and each stage of this has felt like a descent down into another layer of hell.
Watching my family say goodbye to Brady has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through. I’m doing my fucking best not to lose it with the six of us gathered here around his bed—I’d tried to get Julie not to stay because she is barely a teenager. I think she’s too young for this, but she insisted that she wanted to be here to the very end. I feel like I’m crumbling, and the idea that I might lose it in front of her is making me feel worse.
Leaning in close, I rub my nose against my son’s forehead before I put my lips next to his ear. Soon he will be gone and I will never have the privilege of doing this again. No more goodnight kisses. No more high fives at the door to his classroom. No more Bob the Builder marathons. No more life.
“It’s okay to go,” I lie. “Your mom will be up there waiting for you.”
God, she better fucking be there, and she better hold him and love him and do all the things she didn’t do when he was alive.
I want to remind him that I’ll be there soon, I’ve already whispered that to him dozens of times since the decision to end support was made, but I can’t do that in front of my family.
Seven minutes later, he’s gone—and all of my hopes and dreams go with him.
The silence in the room is broken by the sound of sobbing. It takes a while for me to realize that it’s coming from me.
A medium sized child’s casket is four feet long. Not even in my worst nightmares did I ever think I’d know this, but right now that measurement is playing on repeat in my head as I stare at the one in front of me. That tiny coffin holds my entire world, but in a matter of minutes, the priest will finish his graveside sermon and I’ll have no choice but to watch it being lowered into the ground.
I was certain it would be impossible to feel any more pain than what I’m already feeling. I was wrong. I knew this was coming—how could I not when the last several days have been about planning this funeral— but I’m in no way prepared.
My mother is on one side of me and Julie is on the other. I suspect my family made the decision to have my cousin where she is with an eye to keeping me from freaking out, but I’m not sure how much longer that’s going to work. I’m crumbling with every passing second.
“We have to go.”
I nod at my father but don’t move. How can I leave my son here? Physically, I don’t think I can do it.
“I just… I want to be down there with him,” I croak.
“Honey, you’re scaring me,” Mom whispers.
God, please help me. I failed as a father and now I’m failing as a son. My mom is wrecked in a way that hurts to see. Instead of making this easier on her, I’m making it harder. Realizing that I have to leave my son in order to save my mother further pain, I step back from the graveside and turn away.
Each step is torture and I feel like my heart is being torn from my body.
“Donovan.”
I jolt awake, surprised to see Mom standing in the doorway to Brady’s room. Like every other day since he passed, for the first few seconds, I wonder if it was all a terrible fucking dream. Looking down, I realize that I passed out in his bed. I came in here and laid down when we got back from the funeral. I didn’t even take off my suit. I just planted my six foot one ass in my son’s toddler bed, grabbed his pillow, the one with the dinosaurs on it, and sobbed.
Sitting up, I nod at my mom. “I’m awake.”
Stepping inside, she shuts the door behind her before she crosses the room and sits next to me on Brady’s race car bed.
Taking my hand, she turns to face me. “I want you to listen to me,” she says.
I squeeze her hand to let her know I understand.
“Brady is gone,” she whispers.
Other than those few seconds between being asleep and being awake, there isn’t a time when I am not painfully aware of that fact.
“Because of that,” she continues, “you know something that no parent should ever, ever know—and that’s what it’s like to lose a child. You might hate me for what I’m about to say, but I’d hate myself more if I didn’t do it.”
Looking at her closely, I furrow my brow. “What is it, Mom?”
“Don’t do to me what’s been done to you,” she whimpers. “Don’t take my son away.”
It’s like a kick to the chest, so much so that she might just as well have screamed it. I’ve never been more ashamed than I am right now. She knows I want to kill myself and knowing exactly what that’s doing to her destroys me. I’d have sworn I had no more tears to cry, but I would’ve been wrong. I break down again, my body shaking as I sob.
Somehow, some way, I have to figure out how to survive this life without my son. If I don’t, it will destroy my mother—and I’m not selfish enough to make that choice.
26
Eden
I’m coming out of my skin waiting for Donovan to arrive. It’s been three days since he left to get my dad—and since Dad arrived two days ago, I’d expected Donovan to come back then as well. He’s called and texted a ton, but all he’s told me is that he had some things to do before he could get back. I’m jittery as hell because I feel like whatever Donovan is doing is important. He’s being great, amazing even, but something in his tone tells me that whatever it is he’s doing is heavy. It bothered me enough that I asked him if he wanted me to go to wherever he is to be with him. He said no, but I got the feeling part of him wanted to say yes. Instead of doing that he told me to take the time to let Dad say all he needed to say, which I have.
Whatever happened when Donovan went to get him seems to have bonded them in some strange way. Dad is going to be staying here at the motel until he finds an apartment. In the meantime, he’ll be working at the house that Ron,
Paul, and Donovan bought to renovate.
I’m shocked and also touched that Donovan went so far to make sure that Dad and I would reconnect. It was hard to hear Dad’s truth, but not harder than it would’ve been to lose him forever. It will take a while for me to trust him again, but I feel hopeful that it will happen. He’s stuck on the money and how badly he messed up, but for me, the bottom line is that money isn’t going to walk me down the aisle or tell the story about how I fell off my bike and busted my lip the first time the training wheels came off.
No matter how much losing it stings, money is just a thing. In this case, it came to me because my mother and grandmother died. I’d have foregone every last cent to have them alive and well— and I feel the same way about my dad. Death is final. Given the choice between having him safe and alive or having that money back, I’d choose him every single time without blinking. I’m at peace with that choice and I hope that someday soon my father will be too.
Looking out the window, I check again to see if Donovan’s truck is coming down the drive. When he called an hour ago and said he was heading back from his parents’, the butterflies in my stomach went crazy. With no sign of him, I go back to pacing. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve never been so anxious to see anyone, which has made these last few days a test of my endurance.
The sound of a car door slamming has my breath coming out in a whoosh as I race for the door. Flinging it open, I grin like an idiot when I see Donovan. I don’t hesitate to run to him, and he’s barely taken one step away from the truck before I’m barreling into his arms. As he wraps his arms around me, I feel his frame loosen, like he’s been carrying tension and needed to see me as much as I’ve needed to see him. Unconcerned about whether anyone notices, I wrap my legs around his waist and hold on tight as he walks toward my open door. I don’t think the joy I find in his permitting me to touch him will ever dissipate.
I adjust my position a little so that I’m able to look into his eyes. The movement causes him to make a low sound in his throat, which makes me grin. “How was the drive?” I ask as he closes the door.
“Too fuckin’ long,” he rasps. “I missed you.”
“You should show me how much.”
He lets out a groan as he starts walking again, hurrying through the unit and back to my bedroom. Expecting him to lay me on the bed I grin when he sits so that I’m straddling his lap. Framing his face with my hands, I look him over.
“Hi, Stretch.”
The smile he gives me is so dazzling that it causes my breath to catch. The sadness in his eyes is still there, yet somehow it’s less.
“Hi, Shortstack. Feel like giving me a kiss yet or are you too busy checking me out?” he teases.
I lightly pinch his cheeks before sliding my hands around to the back of his head. Holding him in place, I lean in and nip at his lower lip. “How bad do you want it?” I ask cheekily.
He shrugs. “I could take a nap instead.”
Throwing back my head, I laugh. “Asshole.”
“Your asshole,” he answers.
It would seem so little to anyone else, but I hear that first word for what it is—a declaration of intent. He’s committed to this. I grin as I lean in close and reward him with a kiss that turns from sensual to desperate within a matter of minutes. Only three days have passed since our last kiss, but you’d think it was three hundred due to the intensity of it. The feel of his erection beneath me is too damn tempting to ignore. Unable to control my need, I change my position a bit and start rocking against him.
Tearing his mouth from mine, his breath comes in gusts as he stares at me. “You’ll be my undoing.”
“You needed to be undone,” I whisper.
The way he looks at me breaks my heart a little. “You’ve been able to see through me the whole time,” he sighs.
I shake my head because that isn’t true. “I don’t see through you, but I’ve known from early on that whatever made you so closed off was hurting you more than your standoffishness hurt anyone else.”
Sliding his hand into my hair, he tugs me forward and kisses me again. The passion between us is electric. I return his kiss with abandon as the need for him builds inside of me. Only when I feel like I’ll lose my mind if I don’t get him inside of me, do I stop. Pulling away, I stand up and take off my leggings and tee. The heat in his eyes when he sees that I was braless beneath my shirt is its own kind of aphrodisiac. Keeping eyes on him, I hook my fingers into the sides of my black lace thong and slowly start pulling them down. His throat moves as he swallows thickly and watches their progress. Once they’re all the way off, I kick them away and go to him.
Standing in front of him, I tap his right knee. “Spread your legs.”
I drop to my knees and run my hands up his jean clad inner thighs. “Jesus,” he murmurs.
When I trace both hands over the obvious bulge in his jeans, his answering groan tells me I’m on the right track. I quickly undo the snap of his jeans before slowly pulling the zipper down. Reaching into his black briefs, I fist his shaft and take it out. He whimpers at the first touch, his ragged breath all the encouragement I need.
I feel pretty darn confident that I could see him naked every day and still be impressed by the erotic perfection of this part of his body. Fisting the base, I rise up on my knees and swirl my tongue over the crown. I do this several times before I open my mouth to pull him in, my eyes on his as I do it.
He hisses out a tortured sound when I slide my head back up before I descend down again. “Fuck, Angel,” he groans.
Sliding his fingers into my hair, he uses his grip to guide me up and down. I relax my throat as much as I can as he slides me down farther, so the crown of his shaft hits the back of my throat.
“Goddamn, fuck,” he moans, repeating the same motion again and again and again.
The entire time I keep my eyes on his. I ignore the fact that I know I’m drooling as well as the bit of stiffness building in my jaw as I pleasure him. It’s all worth it to be able to see the look of ecstasy on his face.
I’m surprised when he guides me off, his harsh groan filling the room. “Climb on and ride me,” he orders.
I nod as I stand. Stopping, I turn and open the drawer next to my bed to pull out a condom. I open the box and divide the dozen equally between both sides of my bed so that we’d be prepared this time. Tearing the foil packet, I take the condom out and hand it to him, then watch as he quickly rolls it on before he holds his hands out to help me onto his lap.
I hold onto his left shoulder with one hand and fist his shaft with the other as I guide it to where it needs to be. Ever so slowly, I begin my descent. Both hands now on his shoulders, I hold tightly to him as I look down and watch as his shaft goes into me. It’s different like this, like maybe I might be too full. When I pause, he settles his hands at my waist and helps guide me down.
“Take me in, Angel.”
“My God,” I whimper when he’s all the way inside and my bottom comes to rest on his thighs. “It’s so deep like this.”
Taking one hand from where it rests at my waist, he reaches between us and starts rubbing my clit. I whimper as pleasure lights up my body. Unable to sit still, I start alternating between rocking back and forth and moving up and down. Each time I slide down and take him as deep as he can go, I get wetter.
“Fuck me hard, Angel.”
I don’t need to be asked twice. Holding tight to his shoulders, I ride faster. My movements aren’t practiced or pretty, but it doesn’t matter. The way he’s breathing is a clear indicator that he’s as into this as I am.
“Donovan,” I whimper.
He pinches my clit in response, and I almost come right then. “Please, please,” I wail, not even sure what I’m asking for.
He rubs faster, his touch now focused on the most sensitive part of my clit. When he pinches that spot again, I bury my face in the spot where his neck meets his shoulder and bite down as my orgasm slams into me like a lightning bolt.
He flips me onto my back in the space between one second and the next. Bracing his arms on either side of my head, he starts to thrust frantically. “Oh God,” I cry, his shaft hitting some new spot inside of me that’s making my orgasm go on and on, so much so that it’s got me feeling faint. “Donovan!”
Rooting himself deep, he jerks inside me as he lets out a guttural moan that makes my toes curl.
“Fuck, fuck,” he moans. I watch the play of emotion and feeling on his face before his lips meet mine. He kisses the absolute hell out of me as his body shudders through his release. God, the way he comes. I think I could live on the way it makes me feel.
Finished, he rolls onto his back and takes me with him. This is the third time we’ve made love and also the third time he’s done this, and I enjoy it very much. Connected like this, I feel treasured. I rub my face against the soft cotton of his Henley and breathe in the scent of him. After a minute or so of silence, I let out a giggle.
“What’s funny?” he asks with a chuckle.
“Your clothes are still on,” I snicker. “I’m trying to imagine what this looks like, my naked body on top of your fully clothed one.”
“Um, without a doubt the answer is that it looks fuckin’ hot,” he replies.
We lay in silence for a few minutes as he traces his fingers up and down my spine. I sigh and wiggle on top of him with a laugh when he tickles my hip.
“This is different,” he laughs.
Lifting my head, I look up at him. “Huh?”
“You’re still awake,” he says dryly. “Normally you pass out after.”
I wrinkle my nose and give him a silly look before dropping my head and nipping at his chest with my teeth. He hisses out a laugh as his body jerks in surprise.
“Gotta get this condom off,” he announces.
