by Finn, Emilia
But I dash past and into the next hall, then around a bend and into another. I sprint and refuse to release my phone, my lifeline, and when I explode into the hospital chapel, and Jesus’ statue stares down at me, I shakily unlock my phone and dial the one person I can bear to speak to in this moment.
I need him. I need his protective hug, his gentle kisses on my forehead, his whispered words that promise everything will be okay.
My hands shake so violently, I have to stop and start numerous times. My tears blind me so I struggle to see, my legs ache, from standing, from holding my own weight, from Doctor Rhett’s accidental kick.
I hit dial and stumble forward until I drop into the pew closest to the back.
“Hey, Priss.” His voice is a smile. A cold bucket of water on my reality. “You have no clue how glad I am to hear your voice right now.”
“Spencer!” My cry comes out as a scream. A sob that genuinely brings fear that my heart might give out just like Marcie’s did. “Oh god, Spencer.”
A door slams, and the smile I imagined Spencer wearing dissipates. “Abigail? Baby, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Marcie.” I lean forward and rest my arms on the back of the chair in front of me, my forehead on my forearms. “It’s Marcie, Spencer. Oh my god, it’s Marcie.”
“What?” His voice is the opposite to mine. Calm, direct, zero panic, and I can’t even get mad, because I don’t feel like he’s uncaring, but that his training is kicking in, and he knows one of us has to remain rational. “What’s wrong with her? You need to slow down and breathe.”
“I can’t.” I press a hand to my sternum, and drag a laborious gulp of air into my lungs. “Marcie is gone! She’s gone, Spencer!”
“Baby…”
“She’s fucking gone! Does it sound cute when I cuss? Because she’s dead, I’m in a church, and I’m going to swear about how unfair this shit is. She’s seventeen, Spencer! She’s been planning her birthday party for ages, and her wedding.”
“Abigail.” His voice breaks, but the hitch barely registers over my crying. “I’m so sor–”
“You’re sorry?! Everyone is always sorry. I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sorry for your disease. I’m sorry your life sucks and your body wants to kill you.”
“Are you alone, Abigail? Is anybody there with you?”
“Just Jesus and his bullshit reasoning for hurting a child. I’m a believer, Spencer. I believe in Heaven, I believe in God. When you’re a sick kid and you worry about dying, you kind of have to trust that there’s something more. I believe that He only gives us as much as we can handle. It’s never too much, and He is never cruel. He lights our way and, though the road may be tough, he still lights the damn way.”
“Baby, I–”
“What was Marcie’s way, Spencer? What was her higher purpose? What was the point of all the pain? She still died, and soon we’ll have to tell her mom and dad that they lost their only daughter. She was planning her prom dress,” I sob. “She didn’t have a date, but she asked me if she could ask you. She was going to ask a military man almost twice her age if he’d escort her to a stupid dance, and I told her you would accept. Because you would have.” My chest heaves, making it impossible to draw in a solid breath. The blackness surrounds my vision and draws closer. “You would have said yes, because you’re a gentleman when you’re not teasing and saying bad words, and you wouldn’t have cared that she didn’t have any hair.”
“I wouldn’t have cared,” he chokes out. “I would have said yes.”
“I know!” Hot tears torrent over my face. “You’d have been the best date she ever had, because you would have bought her a pretty flower for her wrist, you’d have picked her up at the door. Literally.” I cry. “You would have literally lifted her off her feet, because she hasn’t been strong enough to stand lately. You would have made her night magical, something she would never have forgotten, and the happiness she felt from that date would have made her stronger. It would have given her enough strength to fight another round of chemo the same way Doctor Rhett gave me strength. I wanted to get better, I wanted to impress him. Just like Marcie would have done for you. But she never got the chance, and it’s not fair. It’s not fair.” My tears drip from the end of nose and onto the floor. My chest and back bounce. “It’s not fair, Spencer. She shouldn’t die.”
“I’m so sorry, baby. Truly I am. I’m gonna talk to Soph and Jay today. I’m going to try to come home.”
“Okay.” I nod, despite knowing that no one is here to see me.
“I love you, Abigail. Believe me, okay?”
Again, I nod. “Okay.”
“I’m coming home. Just sit tight, and I’ll be home soon.”
“Two months is a long time.”
“I know,” he croons. “I’m sorry it’s taking so long. I’ll be back soon.”
He hangs up and leaves me all alone on the church pew for what feels like an eternity, but at the same time, just minutes before heavy boots touch the timber floors, and my heart gives a nervous tattoo beat.
I luxuriate in the moment of thinking he’s back so soon, that I’m seconds away from the kind of hug only he can give, the kind of hug only I can receive from him, but then I turn and follow those boots and pant legs up to Kane Bishop’s hardened face, and beside him, Nixon.
Spencer sent them to me. He sent protection because he couldn’t be here.
“Abigail.” Kane’s voice is deep and commanding.
He’s concerned for me, but when he hesitates at the door for a second too long, Nixon strides through and scoops me into his arms. He sits where I was sitting a moment ago, pulls me against his chest, and lets me purge the poison from my chest as though it was my body holding the cancer and chemotherapy. He lets me cry myself raw, and he holds me all along. Then he lets me sleep, and still, he doesn’t push me off his lap.
He holds me extra tight when Marcie’s distraught parents sweep in hours later to pray to a god I’m not sure I believe in anymore, and when they leave again, he holds me while I purge that brand new poison.
The wrong arms hold me, but I’m too weak to push him away. The wrong lips press to my temple, but the right lips aren’t here. The wrong heart beats against my arm, but the one I yearn for is in an undisclosed location and not here, despite the fact he said he would be.
I cry until I have no more tears to give, and when I finally, weakly, push away from my big brother and attempt to stand, I turn to find Kane standing exactly where he stood earlier. Arms folded, jaw set, fire burning in his eyes while he stands sentry and guards the one thing Spencer asked him to guard.
“He’s not coming, is he?” My voice is raw and raspy, but the man understands my words.
He understands, then he shakes his head. “Not yet. I’m sorry.”
* * *
Kane Bishop follows me every step I take. He has a wife and babies at home, but he’s on guard duty, and doesn’t ever clock out despite the rotational duties my brothers take. Nixon stayed with me overnight, Mitch was with me for breakfast, Beckett drove me to work, and Corey picks me up again. But all the while, Kane sticks to me like glue and says barely more than two words the whole time.
He’s my security detail, even though I’m not in danger.
I work because I have to, and move around in a fog of denial and despair. Marcie is gone. Marcie didn’t make it.
I work in silence. No music. No customer service. I don’t speak to anyone besides my doctor to confirm my appointment, and that’s only yes/no answers while I make sure everything is scheduled correctly.
Because Marcie would be so mad if I didn’t.
Spencer doesn’t call me at all, and part of me wonders if he’s doing to me what Marcie’s boyfriend did to her; I still have my hair, but maybe he’s realizing how scary this life can be. Maybe he’s not interested.
Or maybe he’s doing his very best to come home, and I should stop vilifying him because I’m grieving.
Nadia works the front of th
e shop in silence. She serves customers, she does her job, but there is no laughing today, no silliness. There’s no flirting or jokes, and when the phones ring and she comes to ask me only the most important questions, she does it with a hung head and lowered eyes.
All the while, Kane follows me.
He doesn’t just pull up a stool and watch from afar. He’s on my heels most of the day. He’s the most comforting statue I’ve ever met, because despite the fact he’s scary as hell, and foreboding in a way I might associate with the Grim Reaper, he’s also my connection to Spencer. And if I’ve learned anything at all this year, it’s that even the scariest-looking men have the kindest hearts.
I judged Spencer because of how he looks, but I was wrong. So truly, deeply wrong.
So instead of judging Kane, and skittering away in fear each time he moves, I let him shadow me, and I make his life as easy as possible, since I know he’d rather be at home with his family.
I don’t hear from Spencer all day, I don’t hear from him all night.
Part of me wants to get mad. Truly, horribly, unforgivably mad about his absence, but Kane is here, which means, in a way, Spencer is here.
I don’t get a goodnight text from the man I love, or a good morning text, though I’d sell my soul for it.
I make a pot of coffee for Kane, and pour a second mug when Jessie turns up with the babies. She says she wanted to check in on me before work, but I know she wanted to see her love.
I can’t blame her.
I sit beside Nixon, because he stayed overnight too, and watch my phone buzz incessantly. Everyone wants to know that I’m okay. They want to know that I’m coping.
Funeral plans are being made for the girl that should never have died, and my own nerves skitter because my morning rushes by, and I find myself sitting between two large men while a nurse pushes a needle into my arm and draws blood without emotion.
Kane impassively watches on, and Nixon squirms. My heart beats a million times a minute, and my brain is back in Marcie’s hospital room. My old hospital room.
“Alright, darlin’. That’s it.” The nurse caps the final vial of blood – she took three – and pushes a wad of cotton over the small spot of blood when she removes her needle.
I’ve done this a billion times, so I don’t flinch anymore. I simply hold the cotton and bend my arm, then sit back and make no reaction when my shoulders touch those of the men beside me.
“Results ought to be back in no more than forty-eight hours. You’re early this year.”
Tears burn the backs of my eyes as I stand and lean against Nixon when I sway. Standing too fast and losing blood; never a good combination.
“Personal reasons. I just wanted to get in sooner this year and make sure everything is okay.”
“Okay. You know the drill; you’ll get a text if everything is fine, a phone call if your doctor wants to discuss something.”
Nodding, I do what I do every time I walk out of here. I pray for the text, and hold my brother’s hand.
This is why they baby me, because when the heat comes, I always lean on them. I need their strength, their help.
“You okay, Ab?”
Nixon hardly pays attention to my other escort. He doesn’t hate him, but he doesn’t like him either. Kane is of the other family, from Spencer’s side, so he does nothing more than ignore his existence and give Kane his back, speaking as though it’s just the two of us as we walk the hall and enter the elevator.
I don’t have a lot to say, because I’m not okay. I think I’m in shock, and my instinct is to turn around and head back up to the oncology ward to hang out with Marcie.
I was visiting her, bringing her comfort and company. But in reality, it was she who was bringing me comfort. I needed her far more than she needed me, but now she’s gone, and the hole she left behind will never be filled.
In silence, our trio exits the elevator on the ground level and make our way through the lobby and exit out the double electric doors. The parking garage is to the left, but my feet turn right and head across the grass Marcie and I have walked in the past. The bench we’ve sat on remains exactly where it should be.
Just because she’s gone doesn’t mean the world ceases to exist. And that alone is devastating, because it should. We should all cease to exist.
Marcie was worth more than a blip in the universe. She was more important than that. But no one else seems to notice or care.
My legs quiver as I make my way across the lawn, then I run my hand across the timber of the bench, carefully, because I don’t want to get a splinter. The guys watch my moves, but I ignore them as easily as Nixon ignores Kane.
I circle around to the front, stop in the center, then drop down and sob when a blue butterfly stops on the arm of the seat and watches me.
I’m not ready for her to visit me from the afterlife. And I’m mad that she thinks this is a decent replacement, when we should be upstairs watching a movie and flirting with Spencer.
26
Spence
I lay on a grassy hill at the top of a deep valley. Trees and shrubbery camouflage me and my weapon while I watch Soph stand on the road at the bottom beside our car. Romeo is just thirty feet to my left, Jay is all the way across the valley in the same position as I am, and the others spread out, watching, waiting.
Sharpshooter, marksman, unrepentant if this goes bad.
Our guy – the guy who claims his name is Theo – agreed to a meet. This could all go away if he decides the Bishops aren’t a problem for him. But if he can’t come to that conclusion on his own, then my job, Jay’s job, Romeo’s job, is to take him out and end it.
I wouldn’t be sorry for ending his life. He wouldn’t be the first, and he’s the one and only reason I’m not with Abigail right now. He’s the reason I haven’t been with her for the past two months, he’s the reason I wasn’t with her three days ago when Marcie died. Or yesterday, when Kane told me she had blood tests taken as a precaution.
I knew the testing was coming, and I get that it’s just a precaution, but it wasn’t supposed to be until later in the year.
Taking this dude out would be a relief, a sin that would keep me from Abigail when our time in this world is up, but a relief for the life we live now. It’s tempting, but I do the right thing: I watch through my scope and listen to the radio crackle, since Soph ordered silence.
Our meet was organized for noon… it’s now ten past the hour. Our meet was organized for a discussion. To figure out his problem, and either fix it or silence it.
Is he one of Colum’s soldiers, set on revenge for our part in ending that money train? Or the opposite; is he related to one of the thousands of girls who Colum hurt?
Ironically, Jay and Soph are the reason Colum was taken down. They’re singlehandedly responsible for ending Colum’s trafficking. So if Theo is related to one of those girls, it’s understandable he might think Colum’s sons are of the same cloth. But it also means it’ll only take moments to explain, and end this war.
The Bishop sons are not the same as the Bishop patriarch. They ended his empire. They do not profit from it.
“Car approaching, a thousand yards to the east.” Jay’s voice is deep, low, and in work mode.
He might be the craziest, stupidest, most immature guy I know when we’re not working. But put a rifle in his hand and his girl in danger, and he’s the deadliest man you will ever meet. He will straight up assassinate a man if it’s what needs to be done to keep his family safe.
“I’m watching,” Soph murmurs. “I don’t see him yet.”
“It’s bendy,” Jay replies. “And there’s no dirt, no dust. Everyone understand their roles?”
“Yeah,” Romeo’s voice crackles in my ear. “Listen to him. Silence him. Go the fuck home. I miss my family.”
“You’re almost done,” Soph says. “Stay sharp, guys. I’m the only one who might die today.”
“I’ve got you, Sugar Plum. Never doubt me.”
“
I’m watching, ballerina.”
I turn my rifle and watch the approaching SUV. One male driver. Two passengers… female. He wears a hat and sunglasses to hide his identity. His limbs are long. Long torso, long arms, long thighs, which imply long legs. He’s going to be tall when he stands. Not as tall as me, and not as broad as me, but he’s not a beanpole either.
He wears a thigh holster on the right side, a black gun tucked tightly against his leg, and keeps another handgun in the cup holder between him and the passenger seat.
“Okay, I see him now.” Soph’s voice catches. She’s brave, but she isn’t stupid. She could die if he decides he’s not willing to talk. He’ll die too, that’s a certainty, but it wouldn’t bring her back to the land of the living.
A cell phone chirps. One sharp bleep, then I hear, “Hello?”
I turn in Romeo’s direction and frown.
He has the phone pressed to his ear, but we all hear him through our earpieces.
“Romeo!” Sophia hisses as the car approaches. “What the fuck!”
“Now?” Romeo’s voice snaps. “Today?”
“Romeo!” Jay cracks. “Focus, motherfucker!”
“I’m out.”
He stands and blows his cover instantly. His ghillie suit doesn’t work if he’s walking around amongst his surroundings. His gun drops to his side, and the car in the valley comes to a screeching stop just one bend before he would pull up in front of Soph.
“I have to leave.”
“Romeo!”
“Family emergency.”
He’s Soph’s muscle, he’s her trusted sniper and doer of bad shit, but he leaves her in the valley without a second glance as he sprints past me and into the thick trees surrounding us.
Jay screeches in my ear, but he doesn’t jump up or blow his cover.
