I want to add “If you want me back”, but I’m too afraid of his answer.
~~~~
When I get to the hotel, I shower and put on Latson’s t-shirt. It still smells like him, but not nearly as strong. I silently hope it’s not a metaphor for our relationship; that it’s not slowly fading away, too.
As I curl up in bed, the thought of losing him starts to take root in my mind. It’s the last thing I want. I consider calling him again, since Roxanne is still with Mason going over the schedule, but I don’t want to come across as hyper or clingy. I just want him to talk to me.
A knock on the door stops my thoughts. Confused, I walk over to see if Roxanne forgot her key. When I look through the peephole, I blink a couple times to make sure what I’m seeing is real. My pulse starts to race, and I can’t get the door open fast enough.
“You’re here.” The words rush out of me.
In less than a second, I’m in Latson’s arms. He holds me against him and I melt into his chest, inhaling his scent and feeling his heartbeat. He walks forward, pressing me back, until he shuts the door behind us. Without words, his mouth finds mine; his kiss is soft, yet urgent and deep. I return it with everything I have and run my hands up to his shoulders, feeling him relax beneath my touch. We stand in the middle of the room, connected, for countless minutes until he finally pulls away. His eyes meet mine for the first time, and I notice red discolors the whites. He looks tired, like he hasn’t slept in days.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he says.
I run my thumb over his cheek, across the purplish tint beneath his eye. “You were mad. I get it.”
“I was at first, but …” He shakes his head. “Something else came up.”
His tone tells me something bad has happened. Immediately my thoughts jump to Oliver. “Is O all right? Where is he?”
“He’s fine. Believe it or not, he’s with my dad.” Latson pulls me closer. “I’m a little freaked out about it.”
My expression falls. “What do you mean he’s with your dad? Did something happen with custody?”
“No.” Latson pauses. “My mom passed away this morning.”
Oh no. My eyes search his face. “Was she ill?”
“She wandered away from her room,” he says. “She fell and hit her head.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him tight.
“I’ve been at the hospital the past few days. At first it seemed things would be okay, but she kept getting worse. The bleeding inside her head wouldn’t stop.”
My voice is muffled against his chest. “I’m so sorry. Does Dean know?”
“I just left his room. I feel like shit; I should have called him sooner. Everything happened so fast. One minute she was going to be fine, and the next she wasn’t. Before I knew it, I was taking Oliver to say goodbye.”
I look up at him. “How is he?”
“He cried, but not much. He held her hand and told her he loved her.”
My heart starts to ache at the image.
“Then my dad distracted him with swimming and he was a seven-year-old again.”
“Swimming?”
“My parents have a pool. My dad asked to spend some time with O.”
Leaning back, I study the man in front of me. This is a huge step for him. “I can’t believe you let him go.”
“It’s only until tomorrow night.” Latson rests his forehead against mine. “When my father asked to watch Oliver, my first reaction was to take him and run. But O begged, and I thought of you.”
“Me?”
“This is the first time my father has shown any interest in his grandson.” Latson meets my eyes. “If you had been there, I know you would have told me to let them spend time together. You would have said it’s the right thing to do.”
I give him a gentle kiss. “You know me so well.”
He almost smiles. “I also knew I needed to see you. I couldn’t stay at my place alone. Not tonight. Not with Oliver where he is and the way I left things with you. The silence would be deafening.”
“About that –” I start.
“Forget it,” he says.
“No. I want to explain.” I set my hands against his chest. “Caleb ambushed me. He said it was partly your fault Sacred Sin got dropped. I tried to leave and he stole my phone to make me stay. Dean and Drew came to my rescue, but by then you’d heard –”
“It doesn’t matter.” He puts two fingers beneath my chin and lifts my gaze. “Whose shirt are you wearing?”
“Yours.”
“Who gets to kiss you?”
“You do.”
“Who’s missed you more than anything?”
I circle his wrist and move his hand, so I can lean in and hug him again. “You.”
As I say that word, all the stress from the past few days melts away. I feel better, but a new hurt starts to grow. One for Latson and what he’s going through.
“Come on,” I say and lead him toward the bed. I prop the puffy pillows against the headboard as he takes off his shoes. It’s just now that I notice he doesn’t have a bag or a suitcase with him. “Did you bring any clothes?”
“I left my backpack with Dean,” he says. “I’m only here for the night.”
I wish he didn’t have to leave so soon, but I know Oliver is weighing on his mind. Plus, arrangements need to be made for his mother. I crawl to the center of the bed and he joins me fully dressed. We scoot together, and I end up tucked against his side. He wraps his arm around my back, and I thread my legs through his.
“I don’t think you know how much you calm me,” he says.
I’m sure things haven’t been easy. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“Oliver. Your mom. Whatever you want.”
He’s quiet. My fingers find their way to his side and trace patterns over his shirt.
“You know,” Latson says, “I actually thought she was getting better.”
My tracing stops. “Before she fell?”
“After.” His arm tightens around my waist. “For about five minutes my mom was completely lucid. She asked about Oliver and his last day of school. She asked about the bar and Dean. I thought it was impossible for her to remember anything, but she was her old self. Her personality came back.”
I give him a tentative smile. “Then what happened?”
“My dad came into the room. She called him by name and he dropped his coffee. She laughed and called him a klutz. I haven’t heard that laugh in years.” He sighs and runs his palm over his tired eyes. “A few seconds later she asked where Audrey was. As fast as she appeared, she slipped away again. The fall didn’t help her disease. It couldn’t.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“It was stupid to think she was recovering. No one recovers from dementia.”
I lift my head and kiss the corner of his mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with having hope.”
His eyes meet mine. “I wish you could have met her. The real her, not the shell.”
“Me, too.” We study one another, until I say, “Although, in a way, I have met her. Part of her is in you.”
Latson scowls. “You’re wrong. She was a good person. I’m not –”
“Stop.” I cut him off. “You’re good.”
He gets sarcastic. “Does a good person use his mother’s illness against his parents to gain custody of his nephew?”
My mouth falls open. “What?”
“Does a good person fight with his drug addicted sister when he knows she will use any excuse to get high?”
I shake my head to sort out what he’s saying.
“That’s what I thought.” Latson lets his head fall back against the headboard. “I’m not my mother.”
No. “Hang on.” I sit up and kneel beside him. “You couldn’t love your nephew more if he was your own child. You give him everything. There was no choice but for you to take him. Your mother was sick and your dad works a million hours. He would’ve ended up with a nanny.”
“Mrs. Gibson is a nanny.”
I groan and let my head fall back in exasperation. How can he not see all the good he’s done? “As far as Audrey goes, you fought with your sister. What brother doesn’t fight with his sister? You had no idea she was going to OD. Knowing you the way I do, you were probably arguing with her to stop her from using. Am I right?”
The muscles in Latson’s neck tense. “I confronted her the night she died.”