That quickly our normal…our happy, is over.
~CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE~
Colt
I feel like I’m choking on my own tongue the whole way there. Like it’s swelling, filling my mouth, throat, suffocating me, but I still can’t make myself open my mouth and say a word. My mind is blank the whole time except for the same words going over and over through my head.
It’s time, it’s time, it’s time.
Such simple fucking words, but they mean everything’s changing. That I’ll have to keep going on, but she’ll soon be dead. Fucking gone. No huge beating heart, no smile. Nothing but skin, bones and my name on her wrist, until eventually she won’t even be that anymore.
My grip tightens on the door and the center console as my dancer drives me home. To sit with my mom. While she dies.
I almost gag. Something wants to come up my throat but I fight it down. I can’t lose it. Can’t. Not yet. Not before I see her.
We get out of the car and Cheyenne takes my hand. She doesn’t ask me if I’m okay. What a stupid fucking question that is. I hate it when people ask that when they know the answer. Instead she asks, “Are you sure you want me to stay?”
I pull her to me, loving her for asking and still needing her here because there’s no way I can do this alone.
“Stay.” Is all I say because it’s all I can manage. She nods, understanding. Always understanding no matter how big a prick I’ve been.
My hands fucking shake as we walk inside. I lace my fingers through hers, needing the grounding only this girl gives me.
“Oh, Colton,” Maggie pulls me into her arms, but I don’t hug her back. Don’t have it in me to do anything.
I don’t get it. The day before yesterday, she was fine. Laughing and talking and sitting in the sunshine.
“What happened?” I manage to ask.
Maggie pulls away. “Yesterday she slept most of the day. Was vomiting.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” I ask.
“She asked me not to. Said she was just tired. It’s her right, Colton.”
“I’m her son.” I push around Maggie. “I have a right.”
“Another hospice nurse came in this morning…They prescribed a lot more morphine. It will help with the pain.”
Help kill her, she means.
“She didn’t want to take any until you got here. She’s still sleeping a lot but—”
I don’t hear anything else because I’m down the hall. To her room. She’s in fucking pain because she wanted to wait for me.
Her head is turned, her eyes on the door as soon as I step inside.
“Colton,” she hardly whispers out. My feet plant to the floor. I can’t move. How the hell can she look so much worse in two days? How can it happen like this? She’s hooked up to the IV. I’ve seen her on it at home before, but this is different.
My pulse pounds in my ears. My chest aches. This is Mom. The one who’s always been there. The one who wanted nothing but for me to be happy. To make something of myself. To be more than her and more than my dad and she’s fucking dying.
Her arm stretches out, her hand open to me.
Fucking move, Colt!
I feel Chey’s hand on my shoulder, urging me on. One foot in front of the other I go to her.
“Hey, Mom.” My voice breaks and I hate myself for it. Hate that I can’t be stronger when she needs me.
“Hi.” Her lips are cracked they’re so dry, but she manages to stretch them into a smile anyway.
“I love you.” I’m pissed those are the words that come out of my mouth. I love her and want her to know but that’s what you say before goodbye. I’m not ready for goodbye yet.
She doesn’t answer right away. Just grab my hand and tries to squeeze. “I’m tired.”
“Are you in pain?” What a screwed up question. Of course she’s in pain. I’m in pain just looking at her.
Mom nods her head.
“Chey. Get Maggie. Tell her she needs the meds.”
I keep holding her hand as I sit in the chair. Neither of us speak. Her breaths are shallow, loud.
It’s not Maggie, but another nurse who comes into the room and adds medicine to the IV. Chey’s hands touch my shoulders again. I don’t look at any of them. Don’t talk to anyone. Do nothing but watch her.
~CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO~
Cheyenne
Colt’s mom’s been asleep for three hours. He hasn’t spoken a word the whole time. I’m sitting in a chair beside him. He’s holding her hand, his head in his arms that are resting on her bed. Sometimes I touch him. I want him to know I’m here. I’ll always be here. I alternate between rubbing his back and touching his leg and pulling back to give him space. Still I don’t leave the chair. As long as he’s by her side I’ll be by his.
Longer even.
My heart aches for him—breaks for him and for her. For everyone because this world will be a little more lonely without her in it.
I’ve only known her a short amount of time and I know that.
His stomach growl, but don’t ask if he wants food. I know he’ll say no.
I look at Colt. Look at Bev and flash to Mom telling me goodbye. Flash to what her bones must have looked like in those woods. Alone. I’m glad Bev won’t have to go alone like that.
Glad Colt and I won’t be left by ourselves either.
He sits up enough to rub a hand through his hair. It’s as messy as I’ve ever seen it. His leg bounces up and down. But he hasn’t shed a tear.
For the first time, he turns and looks at me. The pain in his eyes rips through my chest and makes tears spring to my eyes. I’m not as strong as he is.
“Don’t cry,” he whispers. “Not yet. You didn’t cry for yourself for so long. If you do it now, make it for her, not me.”
I nod. He leans away from the bed enough to run a hand down the side of my face. To push my hair behind my ear.
The smile he gives me is worse than weeping. It’s broken. Pained.
And just that quickly his hand is gone and his head is turned and he’s leaning on the bed again. Holding her hand and watching her breathe. The breaths that I begin to count the second between.
Maggie’s in and out. The hospice nurse too. Colt doesn’t talk to them. They speak to me, but mostly I think they want to leave us alone with her while we wait for her to go.
~CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE~
Colt
Mom’s eyes flutter open for the first time in hours. Five to be exact. They dart around the room, fear peering out of them.
“What is it? What’s wrong? Do you need the nurse?”
“I’m late for work!” she says and tries to get up.
Work? She hasn’t worked in a year. “Mom…you don’t work. You’re…” I can’t manage to say it. “Do you need the nurse?”
“I don’t want to get fired. I need the money. My son…” She looks scared to death. Pulls her hand away from me.
My heart is racing. My body numb. Does she not know who I am? “It’s me. I’m your son. You don’t have to work. You just need to rest.”