I left and paced the hall. I knew that I could find something to drink close by, I’d visited this hospital often.
Izzy used to volunteer.
People used to whisper when I walked the halls.
They never really knew me, just through her, and to them I was this larger-than-life hero with a bad-boy streak and a roaming eye.
Now I just felt heartbroken.
A child.
She was pregnant with our child.
And the first words out of her mouth basically said she was sorry it was mine.
Damn it, I wished my mom was there.
I took a sip of the strong coffee and grabbed a bottle of water, then hung outside her room. I’d only been gone a few minutes, and I wasn’t ready to go back in, I wasn’t ready to see the look on her face.
Feel the disappointment thick in the air.
I grabbed my phone and dialed a familiar number.
My own voice mail.
I pressed play on the one I’d saved.
“Julian!” Mom’s voice was filled with laughter. “Did you drop off all those historical romance novels? They aren’t even out yet! Who did you sell your soul to? I won’t care, I just want to sell mine too. These are my favorite authors! Have I ever told you how proud I am of you? Or how much I love you? And not just because you bought me books, though that doesn’t hurt. I know you’re still upset with your brother and I know I keep beating a dead horse, but . . . I just want to know that my boys have found love and forgiveness with each other. It’s all we have on this earth, Julian. Money is fleeting, you know this, but love, love is forever, and Bridge loves you—so does Izzy. I want you to know I keep asking every nurse if they’re single, and I think most would leave their husbands for you. Hah-hah, that’s horrible. Don’t laugh, I’m the worst at joking.” I smiled as tears slipped down my cheeks. “Okay, another doctor’s going to poke me with something that’s supposed to make it better when we all know it makes it feel worse. Never forget who you are, Julian—mine. My son. The best son in the world.” The voice mail ended.
I stared straight ahead.
And then I did something I hadn’t done in a long time.
I called my brother.
“Julian?”
“I’m at the hospital.”
“Shit, are you okay? I’m on my way . . .” I could hear him tripping over things.
“No, Bridge, I’m fine. I’m not here because I’m injured. Keaton hadn’t been feeling well. She passed out—she’s pregnant.” I just blurted it.
The line went silent and then, “Are you calling because you’re excited or because you’re in need of a few paper bags to breathe into and a scrip for Xanax?”
I actually smiled at that. “I’m excited. She’s . . . struggling.”
His sigh was heavy. “Let her come to terms with it. It’s been a really hard year for you, for her, and honestly, man, the media hasn’t been the kindest to her. I know you’ve been avoiding it, but the comments on her last Instagram post are enough to make you sick. On top of that, the girl from the restaurant sold the picture to some celebrity gossip blog. They put you guys on their front page. I didn’t want to tell you, but there’s speculation all over the place, and people still aren’t over his death, over this love story between them, so they don’t understand how she could be.”
“It makes sense,” I admitted. “It just . . . hurts.”
“Love hurts,” he said frankly. “It’s not easy, and even though you don’t want to talk about it, it’s not like it was easy for me and Izzy. I mean pretending to be a dick all the time was completely exhausting.”
“Fuck you.” I laughed.
He joined in. “I betrayed her, remember? I accepted money because I thought it would help. I wasn’t guilt-free, and then I took her, stole her, not realizing the full story. My point is this: you fight for love because the minute you have a taste of it, you realize why wars are fought in honor of it. It’s the most precious thing in the world, and it’s worth waiting for . . . and fighting for.”
I licked my dry lips. “When did you get so smart?”
“I take pills, though I think they’re for erections since they’re blue?”
“You just had to make a joke.” I snorted out a laugh.
“Hey, brother . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Good to have you back.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s your laugh, the real laugh, not the one you use in public. It’s the one that means you’re actually happy despite the shit storm you’re in—it’s good to have you back.”
“It’s good to be back.”
“Now go tell her you love her.”
“On it.” I was about to hang up when I stopped and said, “Thanks, brother.”