Let Me Be Your Hope (Music and Letters Series Book 2)

by Lynsey M. Stewart

  ‘What if he was naked and holding a bag of chips?’ Abi asked.

  ‘I might consider it,’ she laughed as she rubbed Abi’s hand before turning to me. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m seeing two of you, but apart from that, much better.’ I leant down to kiss her on the top of her head. ‘Abi, are you OK going home on the train without me tonight?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking, Mum. I’m coming with you to the hospital tomorrow,’ I said as I sat down at the table with them.

  ‘No, Jamie, I’m perfectly capable of going myself. Go home with Abi. It’s her first day at work tomorrow.’

  ‘How are you going to get there?’ I asked, ignoring her.

  ‘There are these wonderful things called taxis. You just pick up the phone and one comes to your door. It’s a revelation.’

  ‘I’m staying here, Mum. There’s no option in this.’

  Abi went home on the train as planned, but without me. She officially started her new job the next morning, the very same morning I learnt that Mum had stage three breast cancer. The very same morning that would start the events that would tear me away from both women that meant more to me than anything else.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Abi

  Then.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about fucking you all day,’ Jamie said as he pushed my jacket down my arms, claiming me, owning me, and giving me what I needed without question because he knew I’d been thinking about fucking him all day too.

  He’d been in London over the weekend, so the need for each other was great.

  Tremendous. Immense.

  He walked me backwards into the kitchen island. His hands were in my hair, up my neck, trailing their heat across my skin. Burning, sizzling, breaking everything, slow and thought through, everything rushed and naturally instinctive. There was no need to think. Just feel. Feel him, feel me, feel everything that connected our bodies perfectly. His hands curved down to my arse and he lifted me easily. He pushed me back on the cold marble with his outstretched hand on my breastbone. If I wasn’t falling before, I was falling now.

  ‘Tell me where you’ve been, Abi.’ The cold, hard worktop hit me like a slamming door, jerking my body further towards him. He smiled across my neck, kissing me until I was rocking into his hardness at my hip.

  ‘I’ve been working. My new job, remember?’

  ‘No,’ he breathed heavily, pulling me towards him, my legs either side of his and my hands stroking his hair. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve needed you all my life.’

  And he was falling too.

  He walked over to the table laden with papers and books. He was all over the place but organised. He pulled his jeans off one leg at a time, laughing when his foot got stuck and he fell spectacularly, unbalanced and awkward but perfectly sideways through the open door.

  His eyes never left mine as he sat in the chair and beckoned me over with a roll of his head and a drop of his shoulder. I jumped down from the island and smiled as I unbuttoned my skirt and let it drop in front of him. He closed his eyes and raised his face to the ceiling when he saw I was wearing his favourite red lacy shorts.

  ‘Fuck,’ he sighed as I climbed onto his knee, leaning back and pulling my top over my head. His fingers immediately pulled down the cups of my bra and his head dropped to my nipples. He took turns to suck, kiss and softly flick them with the tip of his tongue.

  ‘I need you,’ I said.

  ‘Let me take care of you. Tell me what you need.’

  ‘Fuck me. I want to feel everything.’

  He pulled my knickers to the side skilfully and stroked his finger down my wet pussy. I was aching for more. Aching for him.

  ‘If you want to please me more than you already do, I need your fingers. Now.’ I juddered into him and locked my hand on top of his as we both rubbed and circled, lacing our fingers, both of us nudging and coaxing me to orgasm. I could feel the magnificence of him and I could feel it through his fingers. I wanted to take it all in, remember the moment and print it across my skin forever.

  He kissed me. I kissed him back. He moved his fingers across my skin and I trailed mine across his. He whispered affirmations in my ear, telling me that he loved me, couldn’t live without me, and I matched the words as I matched every thrust.

  ‘You’re going to kill me,’ he said, circling his fingertips around my collarbone.

  ‘I’m pretty sure you’re going to kill me,’ I shuddered as he increased his pace, holding his hand across the deep dip of my hipbone. Every thrust was a shouting scream.

  ‘I love you,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll take care of you,’ he moaned.

  ‘You’ll be mine forever.’

  ‘Fuck,’ he moaned, angling my hips until I cried out.

  We knew each other well enough now to know exactly what we liked and how we were going to get there. Soft and slow had crept in without us realising. Hard and intense was always an essential element to our lovemaking, but this was quick get me to the top of the mountain and push me off willingly sex.

  He stood and pushed on my thighs to wrap them around his waist, his cock still tensing inside me. ‘Keep pulsing your pussy around me and I’m going to come so hard it will zap me of all strength and I’ll drop you to the floor. I really want to continue this. No injuries.’

  I smiled against his neck, breathed us in, and then let him carry me.

  ‘Whatever happens to us, I’ll never stop loving you,’ he whispered against my ear, kissing the tip of my nose softly.

  More weeks passed and our time together was being gently squeezed by responsibilities. My new job was intense. Despite being told that heavy child protection cases would not be given to newly qualified workers, we were so short staffed that I’d agreed to take on a case that was not only occupying my time but my thoughts as well.

  Jamie was spending more time with his mum. She was starting to fade, as was his positivity about her condition. He said she that they were at the stage where she would need to consider carers, but I knew he was finding that hard to process. He wanted to be there for her, but he was here, in Nottingham, with me. I could sense that there was going to be a change. I could also sense that I wasn’t going to like it.

  I knew things were too good to be true. Everything was too easy.

  But that was all before.

  Everything after would be dark. Bleak. Destructive.

  The week ended normally. He stayed with me on the Thursday before he left to stay with his mum for a few nights. He held me in his arms and whisper-sang ‘Green Eyes’ until I fell asleep. We shared a shower the next morning where he gave me an intense orgasm that knocked the sensation from my knees. He made me toast, which I always ate in the car on the way to my morning swim. I crashed through the doors of the office just before nine.

  He had been quiet for a few days. Text messages were short. Phone calls were either strained or went straight through to his voicemail. On Monday night, he sent a message to tell me he was staying another few nights after clearing it with Neil. He returned to Nottingham on Thursday and asked if he could come over after work, which I found strange because after eight months, we were so familiar with each other that we didn’t need to ask; we just arrived. He had the emergency key to the flat, but it was no longer an emergency key. It was his.

  Tonight, he knocked.

  I opened the door to an anxious man. His eyes were tired and couldn’t quite meet mine. He kept his distance from me. We would usually meet each other in a flurry of kisses, wandering hands and eager strides to the bedroom. But not tonight.

  He walked over to the fridge, took out a beer and sat at the table. We engaged in ridiculous small talk. We didn’t do small talk. He painfully asked me how my weekend had been and if I’d enjoyed my morning swim. I was stupidly talking about the new instalment of Gem’s suspicions that Jay was cheating on her until Jamie said three words that I knew had so much more meaning be
hind them.

  ‘Sit down, Abi.’ I was suddenly nervous, so I did as he asked. He clasped his hands together and took in a long breath. ‘We need to talk. This is hard for me. Can I just get this out? I need you to understand, so please…just listen. I realised when I was away that Mum’s been trying not to rely on me because of the distance, work and you, but, shit, Abi, she’s a mess. She can’t keep on top of the house and she can’t climb the stairs. She’s been sleeping on the sofa, for fuck’s sake.’ He was a jumble of static words and fleeting glances. I took an equally long breath as I thought about where this was going. ‘You wouldn’t recognise her. She needs me, Abi. I’m all she’s got.’ He finally looked at me with despair in his eyes, and I knew.

  I knew then that I had lost him.

  I’d only guessed before, hoping this wouldn’t become a reality. Hoping we wouldn’t need to get to this point, but deep down, I knew that something had to give. He was working hard through the week, crashing on the bed completely exhausted. I would hold him through the night until the morning alarm rang and he had to get up to do it all over again.

  ‘I’ve had to make some hard decisions. Fucking shit decisions. I’ve got no choice. I honestly don’t know what else to do. I wish I could be in two places at once—’

  ‘You’re leaving.’

  Somehow, me saying those words made it seem all the more real. He didn’t need to say any more. I knew from looking at the broken man before me that he was reeling in pain, lost to the decision, but firm in his belief that it was his responsibility, his duty as an only child to care for his mum during her dying days. He said she was there to hear him take his first breath, so it was only right that he was there to nurse her until she took her last.

  ‘Where does this leave us?’ I whispered with such despair that I didn’t recognise the tone in my own voice.

  ‘I don’t know how long I’m going to be away. I have no clue, but all I know is that this isn’t fair on you. I can’t have expectations when I don’t know how long this is going to go on for or where it’s going to take me.’

  ‘You want to end things?’ I asked in pure shock.

  ‘No. Yes. I don’t know.’ He stammered and stuttered until I couldn’t bear to hear him anymore.

  ‘What about work?’ He looked like I had just thrown a bucket of cold water over him.

  ‘I’ve made some plans.’

  ‘Plans? Already?’ I turned my back to him as I fought the urge to be sick.

  ‘I went to meet my old boss on Tuesday. They’re crying out for staff. He said eighty percent are agency workers, so I’m welcome to go back as soon as I want. They’ve offered me a senior role, practically begged me. It’s a great opportunity and it means I can be there to take care of Mum.’

  The last words he spoke were quiet, but I felt them shaking through my heart. Why hadn’t he told me this before? He’d made plans but they appeared not to involve me. And that hurt the most.

  ‘You don’t have to leave. You can commute. Stay the weekends. Come home during the week.’ I was clutching at straws, saying the first thoughts that came into my head. Being selfish.

  ‘Commute? What, every morning to make breakfast and dress her? Every night to make her evening meal, hold her when she’s scared or the pain’s too much?’

  ‘You can get a carer to help for some of the time. I’m sure you can find someone—’

  ‘She has a carer, but its not enough. Plus I don’t want a stranger to look after her. I want to do it.’ His sharp tone didn’t match the haunted look in his eyes. ‘She’s my mum, Abi. If I can’t do this for her in her last months, what kind of a person does that make me?’

  ‘I understand. I do. But…it doesn’t have to be so…final.’

  ‘Abi, please.’ He stood and pulled me into him. I clung on as he rocked me in his arms. ‘This is the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make, but I have to put her first.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just wish there was another way. We’re too good together. We can’t just throw this all away.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He shook his head and fixed his eyes on the floor. ‘I handed in my notice today. I have to give two months, but with leave I’m owed, it’s worked out that I can go just before Christmas.’

  ‘No!’ I held my hand to my mouth and gasped out a breath. ‘You need to leave now,’ I said firmly.

  ‘Abi—’

  ‘Just go, please! I can’t do this.’ I turned to face the shadowy man I didn’t recognise at my table. Suddenly, all the hurt overtook and I flung myself around to face him. ‘You need to go! I need to be by myself. If we’re over, you need to leave me alone.’ My mouth was overruling my brain.

  ‘Abi—’ He shook his head.

  ‘Let’s just end it now and we can forget what we had.’

  ‘I can’t forget,’ he whispered.

  ‘Then why end it? Do these past eight months mean nothing to you?’

  ‘Of course they don’t mean nothing.’ He stood up and pulled me towards him. ‘They mean everything. You’re everything. Come with me. Let’s start over. We can stay with Mum and when things happen, we can sell up and move closer to the city.’

  ‘I can’t just walk away. I have my mum to look out for too. It’s not the same, I know, and I’m not comparing, but, Christ, you’ve met her; she’s a disaster zone. Everything’s here, Jamie. The girls are here. I’ve just started a new job!’

  ‘OK, right, sorry my mum dying has been piss poor timing,’ he said, dropping his head to the floor when he realised the tone of his words.

  ‘That’s not what I meant. You know I’d never think that.’

  He slowly backed away. ‘I love you and that’s why I can’t have any expectations. I won’t make demands. Whatever you choose to do, I’ll accept. It wouldn’t be fair to ask you to wait for me or to do long distance love. I couldn’t even promise what life would be like if you came with me. All I know is that she needs me more than you do.’

  ‘Whatever I choose to do?’ I asked, my body shutting down and gasping for air. ‘Is there a choice? You’re shutting me out at a time when you should need me the most. Don’t you want to fight for me? Don’t you want to shake me until I can’t do anything but agree to come with you?’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that. How could I do that? I can’t just expect you to come with me. There’s nothing fair about this. Losing your dad so young isn’t fair, and losing your mum fourteen years later isn’t either. Cancer isn’t fucking fair.’

  I gasped out a sob at that. How could he be so right but so wrong at the same time?

  ‘Come here.’ He held out his arms, and without thought, I ploughed my way back into him, stretching my arms around his body, welcoming the contact that I had missed from what was the start of his very obvious withdrawal. ‘We have a few weeks before I leave. Let’s make the most of them. We need to work out where we go from here.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jamie

  Then.

  You just never know where life is going to take you next. Just when you think you have it all sussed out, it goes and kicks you full on in the balls. My mum, the one constant in my life, had cancer. I hated the word slightly less than I hated what it did. She was losing her battle quickly. Chemotherapy had stretched her time by months, but when a scan confirmed her cancer had spread to her bones, like my dad’s, she graciously declined further treatment knowing the additional time it would give her would only be full of pain and upset. She changed her mind later down the line, agreeing to some more chemo, but I knew she had only done it for me. She couldn’t bear to see me so broken. I was all she had.

  She was sleeping on the sofa and kept a flask of tea beside her in order to save herself getting up throughout the day. Just making a cup of tea zapped her energy. She had a carer come in every day at 4:00 p.m. to get her ready for bed; she had done since the summer. Mum had always squeezed every second out of her life. In her healthier days, she would be drinking wine b
y the river at 4:00 p.m. or dining in the newest restaurant that had created a buzz around town. Her quality of life was non-existent, and although she had been given a few months to live, she wasn’t dead yet. I hated that she felt she already was.

  I knew I could take her out and get every last drop out of her time left, and, selfishly, because I wasn’t around for my dad as much as I should have been. I made the decision because I couldn’t cope with the guilt of dealing with that for the second time.

  Life can be painfully strange sometimes. It has the capacity to tip you upside down and shake you around. The woman who had given me life, cared for me, and kissed the grazes when I fell off my bike was now begrudgingly accepting that our roles were reversed. Now I was caring for her, now I was cooking her meals in the hope she might take at least three bites, and now I was kissing her head as she struggled to lift herself off the bathroom floor.

  I imagined and rehearsed what I was going to say to Abi. I pictured her rushing into my arms telling me she had changed her mind about coming with me. I had also imagined what inevitably did happen—the cries, the sorrow, the fleeting bangs of hate against my chest with her small fists, and to top it all off, a refusal to join me in what could have been a new chapter in our lives.

  After the pain, came the realisation that I had to let her go.

  She was too intoxicating to keep at a distance. I would be selfish to keep her to myself when I knew that I could never fully have her as mine. She deserved more than a long distance relationship, a few phone calls and texts on the busy commute home. She needed someone to keep the life in her, to top up her effervescence and keep her arousal rolling with a fire. How could I expect her to keep her true self quiet and diluted until my next weekend visit? She would always be part of me, but I wanted the good memories, not the eventual fizzle of what was once an epic love, lost by long distance and lack of time as life took over, or, in this case, as another life ended.

  I was involved in a series of arguments between my conscience and the part of the brain that wanted to carry on, push through all the questions and doubts, and just see where we ended up. I couldn’t do that. We were too important just to leave things to chance.