Coming Home (Friends & Lovers Book 2)

by PE Kavanagh

  She didn’t doubt his sincerity, but the story wasn’t holding together. The timing didn’t line up. She looked around for a pen and paper - plotting it out would help - but there was nothing. Damn Lucas and his tidy house.

  She resigned herself to having to make a mental tally.

  Point 1: “You told me about your situation on the morning of your wedding.”

  Point 2: “You had already told Connor before that.”

  Question: “What made you think that it was no longer a problem for Abigail? Why didn’t you worry that Connor would go after her?”

  His head bobbed up and down. Thinking, she presumed. “She knew that I was going to tell you and my family on the day of the wedding. In fact, she didn’t seem concerned, which was odd.” The line between his brows appeared. “I was more worried about Connor’s reaction, but he rolled with it. Didn’t question any part of my explanation, didn’t find any of it unbelievable. Like you, he was more relieved than anything else.”

  Ramona imagined her brother, still angry with his best friend, finally able to stop biting his tongue. Holding back was not one of Connor’s strong suits. She and he had both been so delirious with relief that they’d shut off their brains. Not impressive.

  “I know it was wrong that I didn’t tell you everything. You can’t imagine how many hours I’ve spent replaying this story, from start to end, trying to figure out what I could have done differently, how I could have handled it better.” He pressed his knuckles to his lips. “How I could have prevented all the pain I caused…”

  Just as Ramona’s anger and blame began to dissipate, Abigail’s voice popped into her head. “I don’t think she’s done.”

  “I’m done. She got what she wanted.”

  “But she didn’t.”

  “Of course she did. The fake wedding went off without a hitch, she’s been getting tons of media sympathy, it seems like her campaign has taken off. What else could she want?”

  “That’s what she called to tell me. She wants you.”

  Lucas’ mouth dropped open before he regained composure. “I don’t think that’s possible, Mo. She never really wanted me. Just what I could do for her.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Ramona’s voice was much more wobbly than she liked. “She said that the two of you were going to be together. And I was going to find out soon enough.”

  He shook his head so hard his curls danced. “It can’t be…”

  Something in his expression was definitely evaluating the new information. Ramona swallowed a short spike of fear - maybe he wanted her too - and tried to access reason instead. It didn’t matter if Abigail wanted him or not. He wasn’t interested. She was sure of it. Almost certainly sure of it.

  His eyes grew increasingly narrow. “Mo… don’t even… you can’t start believing her wild claims. I don’t know what she’s after, but it doesn’t matter. You are the one that I want. The one that I love.”

  She nodded. Yes, but…

  “Good. Now let me take care of this.”

  Although the words were supportive enough, something about the way he said them left a wisp of doubt that tainted all that powerful logic of hers.

  * * *

  Thankfully, it didn’t last long. Just as abruptly as Abigail appeared, she disappeared. Maybe she just enjoyed messing with people, which Ramona admitted made her divinely suited to politics. Of everyone Ramona knew, Abigail was the most likely to have skeletons. Ramona, conceding her shaky threats couldn’t have scared the persistent woman away, considered the possibility that maybe Lucas had done some counter-blackmail.

  Either way, the unexplained evaporation of Angry Abigail was highly welcome and allowed Ramona to successfully push all that crazy to the very bottom of her Things To Worry About list. There were more important items on there, anyway - her work, her brother, her father, and Lucas.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As the weeks passed, Lucas continued working hard to make things up to her, to prove his devotion, to ease her concerns. In fact, she might have even let him grovel. She’d almost forgiven him. Almost.

  She believed him when he said there was nothing going on with Abigail.

  She believed him when he explained, over and over, why he did what he did.

  She believed that he loved her.

  She believed he was sorry.

  The residual grit in their shiny relationship was a sense of irritation she couldn’t shake. Something about the Abigail story felt incomplete, but she didn’t know what to ask and Lucas made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it. The Connor angle was a sharper barb. Lucas had chosen to let her suffer while he protected her brother. He claimed that although her struggle with his secret had been terrible, destroying Connor’s future would be worse.

  It didn’t land well. Coming in second to her brother was not a position Ramona ever accepted, but she tried to get past it. It was still incomprehensible that her goody-two-shoes brother had done something so bad that it would ruin his career. Despite expectations, she’d succeeded in keeping her mouth shut about it. For the sake of love and family, apparently.

  The fact that her brother had been completely wrapped up in his new campaign, and she’d hardly seen him, also helped.

  All of that had been rendered meaningless, of course, when her father passed out in the bathroom after family dinner.

  Days later, after a flurry of emergency rooms, specialists, and enough medical jargon to scramble her brain, Ramona settled into the faded pink chair that had been designated as hers, set up right next to her sleeping father’s bed. Her stomach grumbled with emptiness. It was a good time to step out as Lucas would be returning in a few minutes.

  * * *

  Ramona dragged her achy body to the nearest visitor lounge, a family in various states of waking and sleeping filling up a row of seats. She squinted at the flashing keypad on the vending machine. These hospital fluorescent lights were murder on her eyes. And since when did a tiny bag of pretzels require higher math? After her fourth dollar bill had finally been accepted, she pressed F467 and hoped for the best.

  “There you are!”

  She looked at her minuscule bag of pretzels, then at the large man walking toward her. He better not want any. “I came to get some food.”

  Lucas took the bag from her hands. “This isn’t food, Ramona. Why don’t you go to the cafeteria?”

  “I didn’t want to go that far. The doctor will be here any minute.” She grabbed her bag back and began the short walk back to her father’s room, keeping rhythm with the symphony of growls from her cramping stomach.

  “You can’t go on like this. I don’t think you’ve eaten in three days.”

  The idea was shocking enough to prevent her next step, not because of some memory of eating, but because it had been three days. It couldn’t be. “Have you seen Connor? He promised he would be here this morning.”

  Lucas shook his head. Great. Her fucking brother.

  “I’m going to get you something nutritious.” He stopped her from walking away with a gentle tug on her arm. “Unless you want me to stay and wait for the doctor.”

  He had dark circles under his eyes. Hadn’t left her side. Probably needed a break. “No, you go, honey. I’ll be fine.”

  After a chaste kiss, he disappeared down the hall. She hid the pretzels under her jacket and kept walking toward the nephrology wing.

  Ramona hunched down into her chair and evaluated the small brown bag. All that crackling and crunching was sure to wake her father up. The pretzels would have to wait.

  She dropped her head onto her hand, as she’d sat, moving only for bathroom breaks, for most of the past few days. Alone, watching her father sleep, she had plenty of time to think. Although thinking would not have been on the top of her list, that’s what she was left with.

  Her poor, sweet father. They’d come such a long way in those weeks. Almost as if those decades of him being unrecognizably damaged had disappeared. She spent most
evenings with him, when Lucas was at the restaurant. He and Leni, and she and Lucas even went on a few double dates. Ramona loved Leni and her dad loved Lucas, and they couldn’t have been happier. If only she had more time.

  * * *

  She’d dozed off when Dr. Fein arrived, flanked by his two assistants. The small man and his burly companions reminded her of a dork mafia.

  “Ms. Barrett, you’re still here.” His nasal voice was not void of care.

  “Yes, Dr. Fein. I was waiting for you.” She ran a hand over the disaster that must have been her hair. It was no use. “How is he doing?”

  The portly man bobbed his balding head. “Much better. His numbers have stabilized. We’re going to move him to a general floor today.”

  She looked at her father, sleeping so soundly he might have even been at peace. Oh, the glory of pharmaceuticals. “But he’s barely been awake.”

  “Yes, we can wean him off the meds now that the blockage is cleared. We just needed him calm to be able to control his blood sugar.”

  “Now what?” Ramona had no idea how the frail old man in the bed would ever resemble her father again.

  “We’ll watch him for a few more days. Then he can go home.”

  “Go home? How can he go home? He nearly…”

  Dr. Fein put on his best I feel your pain expression. “Ms. Barrett, your father’s situation is serious, but manageable. We’re doing our best to minimize these crises, but they are inevitable. It’s best to understand that so you can be prepared.”

  He squeezed the smaller IV bag and squinted at the label. “He’ll be more awake in the next few hours.”

  Unintelligible banter passed between the three men. Without saying goodbye, they marched out in step. So much for the meeting she’d been waiting for.

  Hospitals sucked.

  * * *

  Lucas returned with a large plastic bag and a green juice.

  “How’d you get that past the nurses’ station?” They’d never missed a chance to let her know that no food was allowed.

  He shrugged. “Scandal has its privileges.”

  Jeez.

  She took a long pull from the drink and imagined that the sensation of the cool liquid entering her body must mimic what it felt like for a vampire to drink blood. It was liquid life.

  He sat in the folding chair on the other side of the bed. “Did the meeting happen?”

  “Sort of. Dr. Fein said they’re moving him to a regular room, weaning him off the pain meds so he’ll wake up, and that this is going to keep happening.”

  Lucas cinched his eyebrows. “What? He didn’t…”

  “He did.” A tear rolled down her cheek and landed on the lid of her drink.

  Lucas walked over to her side and squatted. “Baby, he’s a fighter. He’ll get back on his feet.”

  She shook her head, tears and snot flowing across her face. “No, he won’t.”

  Lucas took her face in his hands. “He’s been here before, love. I know this was scary for you but he’s doing better.”

  She pulled out of his grasp. “How could you possibly know that?”

  Lucas glanced over at her father. “Because we need him to.”

  Ramona took another sip of her drink, focusing on swallowing between ragged breaths. “I don’t know how you’re so calm about it. Connor doesn’t even think it’s important enough to show up at the hospital.”

  His fingers wove through her hair and squeezed the base of her neck, the move that disabled her defenses and dissolved her tension. “That’s because he’s used to it, Mo. He’s been dealing with this for some time.”

  With a rush of guilt, she stopped trying to hold back the tears. A million shoulds flooded in. She should have come home sooner. And more often. She should have pried deeper when Connor glossed over her father’s health issues. She should have pushed for more details. She should have-

  He stood and pulled her into his abdomen. “I’m here, Mo. You don’t have to hold this up on your own.”

  She dropped into his body and let her tears soak the middle of his shirt. Her fingers wrapped around the waist of his pants as if she could pull herself so far into him that she could be protected. No matter how close she pulled, it wasn’t enough.

  She opened her eyes to search for a tissue box and found Leni leaning over her father. “Leni… I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Sorry to startle you.” Exhaustion deepened her voice and darkened her eyes. “How is he?”

  Ramona repeated what the doctor had said, while Leni stroked his hair. Her position was the one directly across from Ramona’s. Together, they had been his constant companions.

  “Ramona.” Leni’s tone shifted, weariness gone. “The doctor is right. These episodes are going to come more and more frequently. His organs are not in good shape. It’s important that you don’t let yourself be depleted each time. Then you’ll be unable to support him.”

  Ramona heard the words coming out of Leni’s mouth, but the big picture remained distant and blurry.

  “Do you understand, Ramona? You must take care of yourself. So that you can take care of your father.”

  There was no question about the look in Leni’s deep brown eyes. Message received.

  The day they brought her father home there was a huge accident on the highway just before their exit. Connor drove, Lucas joined him up front, and she sat in the back, never taking her eyes off her dad. His discomfort increased as they sat in the unrelenting traffic. He needed to lay down.

  Panic made time slow even further. “Why are we sitting here?” Ramona said, a bit too loudly. “Can’t we go another way?”

  Connor glared at her through the rearview mirror. “We’re almost off the highway, Ramona. There’s no other way.”

  She’d never been angrier at her brother. He’d been a ghost during this crisis, hardly showing his face at the hospital. And when he deigned to visit, he was on his phone the whole time. Too busy. Critical point in the campaign. Too important. Blah fucking blah.

  “There’s always another way,” she muttered under her breath, then silently held her father’s hand for the rest of the trip. Fighting with Connor wasn’t worth the upset it would cause her dad.

  * * *

  Ramona filled a pitcher from the fancy new water purifier she had installed and brought it to her father’s room with a glass. Leni, who arrived at the house before them, had set up all the pillows to prop him up like he had been at the hospital. He did look better, a smile brightening his pale face.

  She handed him a full glass and lightly kissed his forehead. “I love you, Dad.”

  His trembling fingers wrapped around the glass. “I love you, too, Pumpkin. Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

  “Of course, Dad. I didn’t do anything.”

  Ramona sat and watched her father as he had the soup Leni made for him. Other than a grimace every now and then, he looked like he was enjoying eating. Now that she was there, she’d make sure he followed doctor’s orders for regular, nutritious meals. Had to keep his blood sugar steady. She’d make sure he kept up with his glasses of water, too. Keep those kidneys flushed and he’d be back on his feet in no time.

  Connor popped in to say goodbye. He’d been having a heated conversation down the hall for the whole time at the house. She turned her head as he tried to kiss her cheek, with no interest in concealing her scowl.

  “Off to do more campaign stuff?” Double helping of sarcasm - done.

  The eyes beneath the dark-rimmed glasses narrowed at her. “I have dinner with a large potential donor. It’s important, Ramona.”

  “You bet.” She swallowed the rest of her profanity-laden response.

  * * *

  Lucas nearly had to pull her out of the house. She didn’t want to leave, but everyone insisted. Even her father told her she needed to go home, get a good night’s sleep, and spend some private time with her guy. That’s what he said: private time with her guy. Not a phrase she ever wanted to hear
from her father.

  She wasn’t sold on the whole thing, anyway. She and Lucas hadn’t had private time in days, but her father needed her more. And Lucas wasn’t acting so interested in her. He hadn’t said anything since leaving her father’s. Not even glanced at her during the drive to his house.

  The line of his mouth and the position of his shoulders indicated something other than fatigue.

  “Are you all right?“ She regretted the question as soon as it was out.

  “It’s a rough time, Ramona.”

  His response could have been called emotionless, but she knew better. The use of her given name was a clear indicator that something wasn’t right. “Are you angry about anything?”

  “I’m not.” His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “But… how you’re treating Connor is upsetting.”

  She pressed back into her seat, mouth agape. “How I’m treating Connor? Did you notice how useless he’s been?”

  “I know you hate that he wants to be a Senator. Maybe even President. It seethes through every word, every look, every interaction. But I don’t see how you have a right to judge him. Just because it’s not something you ever wanted doesn’t make it wrong that he wants it.”

  Breathe, Ramona. Breathe. “I’m really surprised to hear you, of all people, saying this.”

  “Why? Because I didn’t choose politics either? Well, it makes no difference. He’s my friend. He’s my brother, and I’m going to support him. Don’t you see how hard this is for him? This is his Everest - conquering every belief and fear he’s ever had to go after something that’s going to be harder than any of us could imagine. He’s trying to climb, and you just keep kicking him in the face.”

  “I’m not-”

  “Can’t you see that he’s also having a hard time with us? He’s been desperate for a relationship for a long time and we just fell into one. Despite ourselves. Add that to the stress about your father and you’ve got to know it’s crushing him. You’re showing about as much compassion as an onion.”