"I just got off a plane. Give me a break." I move closer to her bed. "I'm tea deprived."
"Nothing good here," Grandma says. "But there is a Starbucks up the street." She looks to Mom. "Get us something, honey?"
Mom nods. She pulls me into a tight hug and plants a kiss on my forehead. "Take as long as you need."
Because this is it.
This might be one of a few weeks of conversations—there's no way I'm flying back to LA now. Not until...
This might be our last conversation.
Tears threaten to hit my eyes, but I swallow them down. If this is our last conversation, I want to savor it.
I want it to be about more than Grandma dying.
But I still have to say a goodbye. "I love you, Grandma. I'm... I just want you to know how much I love you. And how much I've missed our conversations. And spending summers with you. And reading you my Days of Our Lives fan fiction. I'm up to chapter five in my book. I wrote a little on the plane."
"Yeah?"
I nod. "It's been a nice distraction."
"From this?"
"Yeah, and... I don't want to talk about my problems."
"I do." She sits up a little straighter. "You know I love giving you advice, Kay-Bear."
"You mean telling me what to do?"
She laughs. It's hearty. Alive. "Tell me what happened. It's that hot friend of yours?"
I nod. "Emma realized. She freaked. She stopped talking to me. Then I... I thought we were okay, but he..."
"Oh, Kay—"
"I told him I loved him. And it scared him, I guess. I don't know. He kept saying he's not good for me. That I shouldn't love him. But that's ridiculous. He's the sweetest guy I've ever known."
Grandma squeezes my hand. "I'm sorry, baby. Some people won't get out of their own way. You can't always stop that."
"I know. But it sucks."
"That it does." She laughs. "There will be other guys."
"Is it that hopeless?"
"Maybe not." She pats my hand. "You're a catch, Kay-bear. Pretty. Smart. Sweet. He's a fool to let you go."
"He's trying to say it's for me. Because he's bad for me. Or something. I'm not sure."
"The hot ones are never smart."
I laugh. "He is. Just—"
"We've all got our baggage. After your grandfather left, I wouldn't even look at men. I'd get write ups at work for being disrespectful to my supervisors."
I smile. That sounds like Grandma.
"Once your mom was older, I tried dating, but I was still angry at the world. I wasn't ready to trust someone to be my partner. I lost a few good things because I wouldn't get out of my way. But there was nothing any of those guys could do."
"Nothing? You sure?"
She laughs. "You think he loves you?"
"He said he did, but I don't know... if he loves me then why doesn't he want to be with me?"
"I don't know, baby. I'm sorry. Sometimes it takes a while to get over past hurt. I never did. I was never brave enough to risk my heart again."
"Maybe that's it. He... his parents were awful to him before they died. Made him feel worthless. Then they died suddenly. I mean, sorry—"
"It's okay. I know I'm dying."
A tear catches on my lashes. "And you... are you ready?"
She presses her lips together. "I've been too weak to live a long time. I'm ready."
Oh God.
"But I'd rather talk about your hot friend."
I wipe a tear from my cheek. "Okay. I just... You have to know how much I appreciate you. You were my best friend for a long time. You still are."
She squeezes my hand. "It's been an honor watching you grow, Kay. You're such a bright young woman." She blinks back a tear. "It's good you take after your mother and not me."
I shake my head. "I wish I was more like you."
She wipes her cheeks with her free hand. "That's about all I can take—"
"Okay. I do... I do need advice about Brendon."
She nods. "You think he's worth the trouble?"
"You've seen his picture."
She smiles. "Not lately."
I pull out my phone to grab one of us. There's a text from Emma. A few actually.
Emma: I'm sorry. Brendon is so stupid. I can't believe he did that. Did you get to Jersey okay? How is your grandma? Call me, Kay. I'm so sorry about flipping out. I just... I guess I did freak out. I love you.
"That him?" Grandma asks.
"No. Emma."
"You're smiling."
"She apologized. She forgives me for lying to her."
"Good. Now let me see the hottie."
My laugh hurts. These pictures are salt in the wound. We look so happy. So right together.
I pick one of us at Inked Hearts. I'm sitting on the stool behind the counter, and he has his arms around me, and we're both smiling like we're happy enough to die.
I hand my cell to grandma.
"Mmm. Yes. I can see why you look so miserable." She taps the screen. "Anything good in here?" She raises her brows twice.
"Oh my God, Grandma! No. If there was, do you think I'd show you?"
"You'd deprive a dying woman of a juicy pic?"
"If it was meant for my eyes only, yes."
"You're not convincing me to stop looking."
I laugh as I steal my cell back. "You're sick. You know that?"
"Of course." She smiles. "How is school?"
"Good. Hard. But good."
"And work?"
"It's fine. I... um... I might extend my trip and—"
"Don't miss school for me."
"Grandma. You're... I'm staying here as long as I need to be here. You won't talk me out of it."
She looks up at me with a sad smile. "You really are a strong young woman."
I wipe my tears. "I try. But I don't feel that way. Not usually."
"If your boss gives you shit, tell me. I'll call him. Cough a lot. Guilt him."
I shake my head. "No. I can find a place with better tips, so I can drop to two days a week."
"You should, Kay-bear. And play up the flirting. You'll never go broke appealing to a wealthy man's ego."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"You won't. If things were different, you'd lecture me about integrity."
"They aren't different." I press my lips together. "You were a single mom. I get it."
She nods. "You're such a good kid. And so strong, going through everything on your own. But it doesn't have to be like that, Kay-bear. Don't make the same mistakes I did. Let people in. Let them see when you hurt. Even if it means risking your heart."
"I'm trying."
"Your mom told me about your depression."
"What?" How does mom know?
"You're on SSRIs. Insurance, they send a summary of benefits. Billing codes. All that shit. She wanted me to know, so I could look for signs that you might be thinking about hurting yourself."
"Oh."
"Let her think it was our secret."
I nod. If things were different, I'd argue. But they're not. "Okay."
"Your mom probably never told you, but she had terrible postpartum depression. She couldn't get out of bed. And she felt so guilty, thinking there must be something wrong with her. She had a new baby. She was supposed to be happy."
"Oh."
"I guess you can blame my genetics. The same thing happened to me." Grandma squeezes my hand. "It's the human condition, Kay. We're all a little bit broken. Don't let that stop you from going after what you want."
I nod.
"Promise."
"I promise."
"You mean that?"
I nod. I really do.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Brendon
After hours of driving mindlessly, I end up where I'm supposed to be. The cemetery in Culver City. It's the perfect place for my parents to rest forever.
The freeway is on one side. The mall is on another. A pocket of expensive houses is on the third.
The shiny billboards tacked to the mall cast a soft glow over the lush green grass. It's fucked how green this grass is—our entire state is out of water—but it would be more fucked if it was as dead as the people buried here.
I clutch the bouquet of roses. Mom's favorite. A cliché, yeah, but it's hard to do anything but love roses. They spread open, invite your touch, then reward you with a prick to the fingertip.
They're a perfect fucking metaphor. Beautiful. Guarded. Dangerous.
I've lost track of how many rose tattoos I've done. Hell, of how many I've done this month. Everyone wants that strong, barbed feminine beauty on their skin.
It suits Mom.
Strong. Beautiful. Viscous.
My canvas shoes soak up every drop of dew on the grass. It's a cool night. It should be dark, but those stupid fucking billboards are as bright as a dozen full moons.
My feet remember the path. I'm not sure how. It's been an eternity since I've been here. The funeral. A few times when Em wanted to go the first year. Then never.
I've certainly never come here alone.
There. Almost all the way at the back, halfway down the row. Josephine Kane. Elliot Kane.
My memories of Mom are sharper than my memories of Dad. But then she was so much sharper than Dad. She was always the picture of the perfect trophy wife. Educated. Pretty. Dark hair cut in a chic straight line. The latest designer clothes. A schedule filled with proper hobbies and volunteering.
When I was a kid, she spent a lot of time with me. She'd read to me. Take me to the park. Bring me on all her lunches and community meetings. Then she had Emma, and it was the three of us together. Dad was always busy. Working. But Mom poured time into us.
She loved us.
She loved me. At least that guy I was then.
It wasn't until I discovered punk music and insisted on wearing ripped jeans that I lost her affection.
It wasn't all at once. It was a little bit at a time. She'd look at me like my decisions were wrong. Like they disgusted her. Then like there was no coming back for me.
I guess there wasn't.
I get why she asked me not to come around anymore. I get that she was protecting Emma. Fuck, if there's anything I get it's protecting Emma.
It was bullshit.
She didn't look past what she saw.
But then I didn't either.
Mom always seemed unbreakable. But she wasn't. There were cracks. A quiver in her voice here. A too strong drink there. A sad look at the door when I asked when Dad would be home.
She was lonely. She was lashing out. She was trying to put shit together.
I peel the plastic from the bouquet and drop the roses on her grave.
"I don't know what you'd think of me if you were still around. I guess I wouldn't be this guy. I wouldn't have changed everything in my life to take care of Emma." I press my hand to her gravestone. "I get it now, how hard it is to be a parent, to try to do the best for the people you love. I get that you were trying to help me and Emma in your way. I get that you looked at me like I was a piece of shit because you wanted something better for me." I lean back on my heels. "I understand. And I forgive you."
The tension in my shoulders melts. Fuck, it's weird talking to a tombstone, but if I squint, I can convince myself Mom is hearing this somehow.
"I know you didn't mean to fuck with my head. But you did. There's still a huge part of me convinced I'm worthless. That I'll never deserve the love of the kind of woman who wears cardigans and gets straight As. Fuck, I think I just threw away the best thing that ever happened to me because of it."
My exhale is heavy.
"But even with all that fucked up shit you did, I wish you were still around. I miss you. I can't believe it, but I do. I'm not sure if you'd believe me, but I'm trying to do better. For me. For Em. For you and Dad. For all of us."
Emma's locked in her room.
I knock on her door.
She doesn't answer.
"Em. I can open this door. I need to know you're okay."
"Okay is relative."
"Physically, okay."
She says nothing.
"Em." All these doors are child proof. A bobby pin is enough to trip the lock. But I'd rather not invade my sister's privacy. That's one of the million ways I want to do better. "You don't have to talk to me. Just tell me if you're okay."
"Yeah."
"Thanks."
Her footsteps move toward the door. "Why did you break up with Kaylee?"
"You were right. I'm supposed to protect her from guys like me." At least that's what my head was telling me. Now... it doesn't feel as right. It feels like Mom's voice.
"Really?" Emma pulls her door open. "Are you fucking serious?"
"You said it."
"Because I was pissed." She smooths her hair. Wipes her puffy, bloodshot eyes. "I thought about it. And... well, I was wrong. I was shocked and pissed and, well, you don't exactly have a good track record with relationships."
Fair enough. "Yeah."
"I thought... well, Kay is really pretty. And she's all sweet and innocent. And your reputation... I thought you just wanted to corrupt her. Or some sick shit like that. I couldn't imagine you really loving her. But I knew... I think, deep down, I knew she liked you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I wanted to believe it was someone else. Even Dean. But I think I knew. And I even understood. She's happy around you. She laughs. She relaxes. She... she tells you stuff. Stuff she doesn't tell me. That pissed me off. I'm her best friend and you're some hot, tall guy who will probably throw her away."
"You're tall."
"Yeah. I... I was jealous of you, I guess. That you were getting more of her. I just... You've both been spending so much time together. And then you both lied to me about it. It hurt. But now that I step back from that. I think you're good together."
What? I blink a dozen times.
"Don't give me that look, Brendon. You must see it. She's happy around you. And you—you're normally trying to audition to play Jess on some Gilmore Girls reboot."
"What?"
"Oh my God, everyone knows Gilmore Girls! You watched it over my shoulder."
I shake my head. I vaguely remember the mom and daughter eating a lot of junk food, but that's it.
"You sit around with your sketchbook like it's the only thing that gets your pain. But that isn't true. Kay does. I don't know what you tell her, but you're different around her too. You're happy. And, no offense, but you're usually miserable enough you're annoying to be around. I mean, I still love you, but it can be a drag."
"No offense though?"
She laughs. "Yeah. Of course not. I mean, you're no Ryan, but you were kinda on your way there. The last six months at least. And Kay... I'm just glad she has someone to help her right now. Well. That she did. But if you're breaking up with her for her then you're a fucking idiot. Who takes advice from their eighteen-year-old sister?"
I can't help but laugh. "You're wiser than you think."
"Well, yeah, if you need some help with your makeup or wardrobe. We have some great skinny jeans on sale. If you want a new pair, I can help with that. With Kay—"
"You know you're giving me advice right now."
"Okay. Let's say I'm wise. You should listen to me."
Yeah. I'm pretty sure I should.
Emma pulls out her cell. "Did you get this?"
It's a text from Kaylee's mom.
Mrs. Hart: Kaylee is going to be staying with us for a few extra days. She's doing okay. I'm sure she'd appreciate a call from you, Emma. I'm not sure she's in a place to reach out.
"It sounds bad." Emma's gaze goes to her screen. "I called a bunch, but she didn't pick up."
"It's late on the East Coast."
"You think it's bad news with her grandma?"
"Hard to say." But probably.
"We should be there. Shouldn't we?" Emma pushes her door wide open and steps into her room. She goes straight to her l
aptop. "I looked at tickets. And I talked to my manager. We could leave tomorrow night. Get in first thing in the morning. Or... well... if you really don't want to be with Kay, then you probably shouldn't come."
No shit. I nod.
"So, what's it going to be? Are you coming or not?"
Chapter Fifty-Three
Kaylee
I spend the entire day in Grandma's hospital room, talking about everything and nothing. Mom gives me the morning with Grandma. She joins me in the afternoon. We share stories and they team up to give me life advice.
Grandma stays quiet about things with Brendon. But I know Mom is going to find out. And that's going to be the end of me living at his place.
Not that I could live there with things as they are.
I... I'll just have to work more. Take out another student loan. Commute a little farther. Do whatever it takes to make it work.
We don't leave until the nurse insists.
It's so quiet at home. It's strange. Usually the house is full of Grandma's laugh. Or some loud, exciting show she's watching. This whole place is her. The walls are bright jewel tones. The blankets on the black leather couch are hot pink.
She's always so bright and vibrant.
It's scary that soon she won't be alive.
But I'm starting to accept it.
I'm halfway through my morning tea—shitty generic tea—when the doorbell rings.
Mom is making eggs in the kitchen.
Dad is asleep in the bedroom.
It's early. Seven-something. Who the hell could that be?
"Can you get that, Kay?" Mom's voice is even. Knowing.
Huh.
I take one more sip and push myself to my feet.
This is a small place. It's only a dozen footsteps to the door. "Hello."
"Hey."
That's Brendon's voice.
What the hell?
My stomach gets all light and floating. Nervous energy spills through my limbs. He's here. Why is he here? What does that mean?
I need his comfort so badly.
But I...
If he's not here to kiss and makeup...
I can't take falling more in love with him.
I pull the door open. "Hey."
He's standing there in jeans and a t-shirt. Like it's a normal day. Like we're about to walk to the shop.
Tempting Page 29
