The Firsts Series Box Set

by M. J. Fields

  We left the truck with their car seats there in case they needed to go somewhere, and then, hand in hand walked across the same fucking trail I took year after year to her childhood home. But unlike years past, I wasn’t sneaking over for ‘one last time,’ and I had Faith’s carrier in my other hand.

  “You’re smiling, and my heart is breaking because I’m leaving them.” Ava sighs.

  “This path,” I shrug. “My one last time became my forever, Ava.”

  She scrunches up her nose and shakes her head.

  “What?” I squeeze her hand.

  She looks down, still shaking her head. “My husband is—”

  “A lucky man that you gave another chance to after he fucked up,” I admit.

  She shields her eyes from the sun as she looks up at me. “Was it worth it?”

  “Of course, it was.”

  “Even though I was an idiot?”

  “You explained you did what you did because you didn’t want me waiting for you in case you didn’t come home,” she stops. “Luke, are you trying to tell me—”

  “That you don’t always know why someone you love does something that ends up hurting you. They may be doing it because they love you that much. And Ava, to know you is to love you.”

  “You’re talking about Mom.”

  “Blue eyes, I’m talking about everyone you have ever loved, or ever will. If they were worth loving once, they are worth giving a second chance. And that’s not just a gift to them, it’s for you, too. Had you not forgiven me, we wouldn’t have her. So, have faith in your heart, Ava, it will rarely steer you in the wrong direction.”

  I look up and see Logan, London, Tessa, and Lucas walking out of the garage. She follows my line of vision.

  “Ava,” I call, and she looks back at me. “And things left unsaid, don’t make them any more or less important than you allow them to be. You have me.”

  She nods and smiles sadly as she looks back toward her family, our family.

  “Everything’s going to be okay,” I whisper.

  “How?” She swallows hard, and I know she’s barely keeping it together.

  “You have to make it okay in your mind and in your heart. I’m not saying the situation is the same, but babe, we’ve both been through hell and we’re still living happily in our kind of heaven.”

  “Morning, Princesses” Lucas smiles.

  “Morning,” I reply.

  He laughs, and Ava lets go of my hand and runs into her father’s arms. “Morning, Daddy.”

  “Daddy, huh?” He laughs, hugging her. “What do you need, Ava, I’ll give you the world.”

  I watch her eyes squeeze shut, and Tessa is staring at them.

  Tessa looks at me and swallows hard. I walk over and give her a one-arm hug, my other hand’s holding on to a little Faith, literally.

  “How bad is this, Luke?” she whispers.

  “We’ll be okay.” I hug her a little tighter. “All of us.”

  Ava timed everything perfectly with Faith’s feeding. Her worry that Faith would be fussier because of the flight was sprung from a trip she took with the twins. She came home then, too, and as soon as she knew I’d connected the dots about the twin’s paternity, she left to outrun me and the asshole I was then.

  My chest tightens thinking about how much I hurt the woman I love, who loves me and is so much stronger than anyone can imagine. It further tightens when I think about what she is about to face. How she’s already angry at herself for the last call she made to Ashley.

  Like every regret we have in life, there is no way to go back and change the choices we made that caused the remorse we carry—which is where the hardest part of grief comes from. But if we could change things, everything in our present and possibly our future would change, too. There is no right path in the process. Loss involves the human factor, one of heart—and emotion. Love, hate, and anger play the biggest influences on how each individual deals with it.

  I wouldn’t be alive today if I had known I could have saved any one of my brothers while serving my country. That would have meant I wouldn’t have been able to make things right with Ava, and I wouldn’t have three little people to guide through the paths they will travel. I wouldn’t be able to hold my wife when she falls apart, or quiet her when she cries in her sleep like she has the past few nights, totally unaware that she’s done it. I wouldn’t be here when the kids experience their first heartbreak, or be here when they fuck up, because they will someday, they too are human.

  Just like Ashley, she has her reasons for the choices she has made. I just pray, yes, pray that she can help her kids, the way I would want to help mine if I were in her shoes.

  “It’s okay, baby girl,” Ava whispers as Faith begins to fuss. “Mommy’s here.”

  Her voice quivers when she says the last words.

  “And I’m here too,” I whisper as I lift the arm between us and pull her head down on my shoulder. “I’m here.”

  “Do you think she’s in pain?” She looks at me. “Faith.”

  I know she wasn’t just thinking of Faith when she asked the question. “No, babe, I think she’s fine.”

  Faith takes that time to squawk louder than I’ve ever heard her.

  “Oh Faith, Mommy’s here, Mommy is here, baby girl.” She tries in vain to get her to continue nursing. “I’m going to make it all better. I’m right here. I’m always going to be right here.” The first tear falls. “I will never leave you. Ever, ever, ever,” she sobs. “Ever.”

  “Ava.” I reach over. “Let me.”

  She nods immediately and hands Faith off to me just as quickly. With Faith over my shoulder, I lean back, keeping her in place, and pull Ava against me with my other arm, and rub her back

  I hear a sniff and look around the plane. Logan’s eyes are red and glassy. I glance at London, who looks mortified… pained, as she fights back tears of her own.

  “Okay!” Lucas fights with his seatbelt as he tries to stand.

  “Lucas,” Tessa whispers as her hand grips his knee. “Don’t.”

  “Fuck that.” He yanks on the thing. “I have seen my kids, my fucking babies.” He yanks at it again and still, it’s stuck. “God-damn-fucking-piece-of-shit fucker.”

  Tessa unbuckles herself easily and leans over and takes his face. “Lucas.”

  “They’re my kids, Tessa. I don’t give a fuck if old Moon Face and their mother are—”

  Suddenly, London is in front of them, I didn’t even see her get up. There’s too much going on. Ava’s now sobbing, Faith is shrieking, Logan’s hat is covering is eyes, and Lucas, he’s losing his shit and doesn’t even know why.

  London wipes away her own tears and squats in front of him. “She’s sick, Lucas.”

  Now a pin could drop, even Faith is quiet, and all the red, tear-drenched eyes are on Lucas as London looks up into his confused eyes. “It’s not the business, Lucas. Ashley’s,” she pauses, and wipes away a tear, “Sick.”

  Numb

  Lucas

  I nod. “Okay, Ash is sick. So, what does that—”

  I pause and look at Logan, and then Ava. Their spouses, my grandbaby, all a fucking mess.

  Ash is sick. She’s sick. My kids, my grown kids are a fucking mess, and Ash is… sick.

  Knowing by the looks on their faces, and with the way they’ve been behaving, it’s bad. Really bad.

  It pains me to ask the question, but if I don’t know, I can’t do a fucking thing to fix it for them, for… her.

  But I have to ask, “How sick?”

  A heartbreaking sob escapes from Ava, my little princess.

  Tessa quickly moves to Luke, who looks like he’s struggling, and takes Faith as he pulls my little girl into his arms.

  Still, no one says a thing.

  I look down at London, who is silently crying. “London?”

  She looks at Logan, and I follow her line of vision. His arm, the one not fucked up, folds across his face and he pushes back into his seat.
<
br />   She looks back at me. “Lucas, she doesn’t have long.”

  “Long?”

  Numb, I feel numb.

  London unbuckles my stuck seatbelt.

  It’s in slow motion.

  She looks at Logan, whose body is now shaking from the sobs he’s hiding.

  My ears are ringing. I can’t hear him.

  Tessa walks over and sits beside me. One hand holding Faith against her, and the other on my knee.

  I can’t feel her touch.

  I close my eyes, focusing on my heartbeat.

  Don’t fucking fail me.

  My head feels like a balloon when I open my eyes and look to my right.

  I see her, Tessa, mouthing my name, but it’s not her voice I hear.

  It’s Ashley’s.

  Ash.

  I close my eyes tight, take in a deep breath, and focus.

  Fucking beat.

  Shock.

  “Lucas?”

  Tessa…

  I open my eyes and look into hers, my wife’s. A tear rolls down her cheek as she reaches up and cups my cheek. When her thumb skates across it, I feel it.

  “You both need to have faith. Miracles happen every day.”

  “Lucas,” London wipes her nose and clears her throat, “She’s been sick for a very long time.”

  “How long?”

  Logan clears his throat, “London, don’t.”

  “London, don’t what?” I shake my head, confused as to why he’s trying to quiet her.

  She looks at Logan. “I’m sorry, Logan.” She turns back to me. “Over seven years.”

  I hear Tessa gasp, and then I quickly do the math in my head.

  She must have misspoken. “Seven months?”

  “No, Lucas. She’s had a brain tumor for more than seven years,” London whispers.

  “No, that’s not possible. She and I were still married.”

  “Dad,” Logan runs his hand up and down his face, “Mom’s dying.”

  I look at Ava.

  “I just found out, too. She knew a week before the twins were born that she was terminal. He’s known for almost a year.”

  I look back at Logan.

  “Made me promise,” he mumbles, clears his throat and looks up.

  London walks over and sits next to him and takes his hand. The one he didn’t beat the hell out of his steering wheel and the ground with, because he needed to break something outside to mirror the pain he’s feeling inside.

  I feel it too.

  London sighs, “Us, she made us promise not to say anything. She wanted—”

  Ava interrupts, “She thinks I’m weak. I’m not weak, Daddy.”

  “Of course, you aren’t. Neither of you are.” The ringing in my ears starts to fade. I can feel my heartbeat, and Tessa holding my hand. “We’re going to do everything we can to find a way to—”

  Denial.

  “She’s dying, Dad,” Logan nearly yells. “She’s dying.”

  London explained everything that Ashley and Robert had told her and Logan, almost a year ago. She explained that Ashley had good days, but most of them bad. She explained that she’s done trial after trial like a trooper, in hopes of a miracle, and after each, she says it’s her last.

  She talks of Robert like he’s Christ incarnate and I can’t be angry at London for that.

  Everybody needs a hero.

  But fuck, if it doesn’t hurt that she chose him over her own Goddamn husband.

  Why, when she found out, did she not say a fucking thing to me? I was her husband.

  Me.

  I may have been a fucked-up boyfriend back in the day… a lot. But I know damn well that as a husband and father, I nailed them both.

  Part of me will never forgive her for that, and part of me knows it doesn’t matter.

  I remember the headaches, I remember she liked the base of her skull massaged when she had them, I never once said no. Hell, when I could see she had one, I did it without thought or request.

  I know the story I’m being told is missing pieces. I see it in the exchange of my children’s glances that they’re hiding shit from me.

  I can’t say shit, I’ve no right. I can’t change the past and admitting that I would if I could would crush those I’d leave in the wake of its truth.

  The hero complex is strong in this one… why the fuck did that thought sound like Yoda’s voice in my head?

  Because you’re a fucking mess right now, and because there isn’t a fucking thing you can do.

  She’s not yours to save, and from what London and the kids have said, there isn’t a damn thing that could save her now anyway.

  I want answers, but I know answers will not change a thing, and besides, it’s selfish to want and need them.

  Ash cheated on me with Robert, but she cheated on us as a family by doing this shit.

  My kids are hiding her disease, not just from me, but from each other. I know Logan and the shit he’s pulled lately are all for her. And he knows it’s fucking wrong. It’s not just emotionally hurting him, but physically too.

  And Ava… my little girl is a mess, and… and she’s angry at Logan for hiding it from her.

  Not so fun fact, so am I!

  But I’m not pissed at him. I’m disappointed that he didn’t reach out for help. He’s my boy. Mine.

  Who I am pissed at, is her.

  Ash.

  Anger.

  But she’s fucking dying.

  Dying.

  No. There’s got to be something I can do.

  Pray? Go to church more? Stop looking at my wife and thinking, I fucked that first, I’ll fuck it last too, then all I want to do is fuck it… I mean, her.

  Tessa.

  I wouldn’t trade her for the world. But me, yeah. Take me. Take me and not her. Kids need their mothers.

  But let’s just make sure she remembers how to be the mother they deserve and steps the fuck up.

  Am I praying for death, so she can live?

  What the fuck is wrong with me? That’s illogical and does nothing.

  Bargaining.

  Christ, she found out she was terminal a week before Hope and Chance came. She’s already been fighting for years… years.

  I look up at the kids.

  “I want Tessa to look over her medical reports. See if they may have missed something.”

  “No,” Logan shakes his head.

  “No?”

  “Dad, I know it’s hard to accept, but they have a team of medical staff, several teams in fact. And Robert has done so much and is still trying to convince her to keep fighting. She’s tired. It’s incurable. And she’s holding on because we can’t let go. London throwing a bitch fit and going rogue on her is the only reason she saw me.”

  I see her whisper sorry to him and he squeezes her hand.

  “Mom doesn’t want us there. She wants us to live, to be happy, and remember the good times. Not her dying.”

  “But you see her all the damn time,” Ava snaps at him.

  “Ava, I’m sorry. I am. But if the roles were reversed, you’d have done what she asked. She’s still Mom.” The pain in his words shows in his eyes. The reality that not a fucking thing can be done settles on us like a heavy fog as he sighs. “She’s still Mom, but she’s not getting better, and she’s tired, Ava, so tired.”

  Ash is dying. She is, and there isn’t anything that we can do about it.

  Acceptance.

  I look at Tessa, whose eyes show me she sees, she understands, she’s been there in a way, and she’s here now.

  I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes mine back.

  Holding my tiny sleeping princess, I stare at the door of the penthouse, that has long been closed.

  My kids are on their way to see their mother. They’re hurting, and there isn’t a fucking thing I can do about it.

  “Lucas.” Tessa rubs my back. “She’s asleep. Should we put her down?”

  I look over, nod, and whisper as I kiss Faith’s tiny little
head, “Yeah. Of course.”

  I hand her to Tessa as I open up the Pack ‘n’ Play that Ava and Luke brought.

  When it’s done, I look at Tessa.

  “That was kind of sexy,” she whispers as she now kisses Faith’s head, then lies her down inside.

  God, I love this woman.

  “You’re stroking my ego.”

  “Am not,” she whispers as she walks to the bedroom door. I follow her out.

  “Bullshit, and I love you for it, baby.”

  She sits on the large sectional in the living area of the penthouse apartment she booked for us and pats the spot next to her.

  Talk to me

  Tessa

  For the past few hours I’ve watched as five people I love try to wrap their heads around the fact that they are going to lose a part of themselves. A part that has made them who they are. I know this all too well.

  Some parts they will never lose. Ava is built like her mother, short and curvy. She has her petite features, and when she lets down her guard, she’s sweet like the Ashley I once knew. She has her Dad’s coloring, dark hair, blue eyes, and skin that sees the sun and darkens almost in an instant. And when she is happy and feels comfortable, or the opposite, cornered, she has Lucas’s big personality.

  Logan looks like his father, almost a spitting image, but he’s quiet like Ashley and internalizes things as she clearly does. It’s not a bad thing. It just makes it harder for Lucas.

  He sits next to me, takes my hand and kisses it. He holds it against his warm and soft lips as he stares at the door.

  “Talk to me.”

  He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, then away.

  I pull our linked hands away from the warmth of his mouth. “I’m a really good listener.”

  “I know you are.” He smiles sadly, and then flops back against the couch and holds my hand over his heart. “Never gonna get easier, baby, needing to protect and help the people you love, even when they don’t want you to.”

  He sighs.

  I lean back into the soft leather of the couch, let go of his hand, and run it through his silky black hair peppered with light gray around his temples.