hing that it’s been through. I’m in complete awe of her resilience and strength. I’ll never know how she puts a smile on every morning and pushes through each day the way she does, and I think it’s one of those things that I’ll just never understand. Often times I’ve thought about how easy it would be for her to be bitter and angry rather than hopeful. I know that she’s had her moments, but that’s to be expected. I also know that there are days when she just puts on a show, but the majority of the time she seems legitimately happy and upbeat.
“Damn it,” I hiss, tilting my head back on the pillow. I don’t want to go to Nashville, but I know I have to for Mason. I couldn’t forgive myself if he missed out on an opportunity like this because of me. Shifting Laney ever so gently to the side, I roll her onto her back, making sure she has a pillow under her head. I slip out of bed, tuck the covers around her body and throw on my sweats, wondering where in the hell I left my phone. I backtrack through the house and find it sitting on the kitchen table with three missed calls from Mason. Tapping his name, I hit ‘talk’ and he picks up almost instantly.
“Well?” he snaps, not saying another word.
“What time does our flight leave?” Grabbing a glass out of the cabinet, I fill it up with water and take a drink.
“It’s like a four or five-hour drive, douchebag. We’re not going to fly.” Damn it. I fucking hate driving long distances. I take one more drink and empty the cup into the sink.
“Whatever,” I growl. “What time do we need to leave?”
“Cheer up, Buttercup,” he quips. “This is a good thing. We leave at eight in the morning. Where should I pick you up at?”
“Pick me up at Laney’s.”
“You got it.”
“And Mason . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t fucking call me back today.” I hang up the phone before he has a chance to respond, but right before I hit ‘end,’ I hear his booming laugh come through the line.
My eyes rest on the stack of bills on Laney’s table, and suddenly the only thing I can think of is making things right for her. When I grab the pile, a folded piece of paper falls to the floor. Bending down, I pick it up and unfold it. Laney’s bucket list is staring back at me, and I smile at all of the things I’ve been able to check off of it. I laugh out loud when I see the line drawn through number six and recall the way she blushed when I changed the wording. My cock stirs when I remember the day we checked off number eight. I’ll never forget the look on her face or her tinkling laughter when she took off running from me at the quarry, and the way she squealed when I finally caught her and tossed her into the cold water. My eyes slowly make their way down the page and my breath catches in my throat when I find number fourteen. It wasn’t there before so she must have added it. I grab a pen off the counter and scratch through that one, making a small note next to it.
Folding the list up, I put it back on the table then grab the stack of bills and start fixing things the only way I know how.
“I’M NOT GOING. END of discussion, Laney. I’m not going.”
It’s three o’clock in the morning. I spent the entire day yesterday checking on Laney because she literally slept all afternoon, only waking up once around five o’clock in the evening to eat, drink and go to the bathroom before she crawled back into bed, seemingly exhausted. Okay, I can understand that. But when she wakes up in the middle of the night with yet another coughing fit and a fever to boot . . . yeah, not happening.
“I’m fine,” she stresses, curling up into a ball after taking the fever reducer I gave her. “You’re going. I told you, it’s just a cold.”
“Cold, my ass. It’s not just a cold.”
“Trust me, babe,” she yawns, pulling the covers up to her chin. “Your ass is far from cold. In fact, it’s pretty darn hot.” A wistful smile touches her lips as her eyelids bob heavily. I crawl into bed, wrap my arm around her scalding hot body and pull her toward me.
“Now’s not the time for jokes, Lane,” I mumble into the top of her head before kissing it twice.
“Mmmmm . . .” she moans before drifting off to sleep.
I, on the other hand, stay up through the wee morning hours, constantly monitoring her temperature, which finally breaks around six o’clock. It’s now seven and I’m standing next to her bed, completely fucking exhausted, trying to figure out what in the hell I’m supposed to do. There’s no way I can leave her like this . . . I just can’t. My meeting will be a complete waste of time because I’ll spend the entire time thinking about Laney and wondering how she’s doing.
Right when I’m about to text Mason and tell him I’m not going, a soft knock sounds at the bedroom door. I crack it open and Mia looks at me, concern marring her face. “How is she?” she whispers, crossing her arms over her chest.
I slip out the door and Mia follows me into the kitchen. God bless her, she already has a pot of coffee ready to go and I fix myself a cup. “Her fever finally broke, but she coughed all night long.”
“I know. I heard her.” Mia walks across the kitchen and refills her coffee mug. She brings it to her mouth and takes a sip.
There for a while, Mia had been sleeping on Benny’s couch when I would stay the night, but the past several weeks she’s insisted on staying here. I’m not sure if it’s because something happened between her and Benny, or if she’s just as concerned about Laney as I am and wants to be here in case she’s needed. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. She’s a great friend, and I’m just glad that Laney has her.
“She’s going to be okay, Mia.” I wrap an arm around her shoulder and she nods her head.
“I know. I just want her to be okay now.” A couple of tears slide down her face. “I can’t stand to see her go through this. It makes me sick to watch her lose weight and to see the bright light in her eyes dim. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take,” she cries, setting her mug down so she can wipe the wetness from her face.
“I know. I feel the same way.” I fold her into my arms, and her shoulders tremble and shake. “We have to stay strong for her, okay?” She nods weakly against my chest and then pulls back, her face red and splotchy from crying.
“I’m trying,” she says, her voice cracking as another batch of tears roll down her face. “It’s just hard. I want this to be over for her.”