The Boy Who Has No Redemption (Soulless 8)

“Whatever. I don’t care.” He set his bag on the couch. “Life will go on, and other students will have an opportunity they wouldn’t have had before. Mom told me not to drop anything to come see her, but you think I give a damn about saving someone’s life when my mom is fighting for hers? Fuck that.” He walked up to me and finally embraced me with a hug, squeezing me hard.

I squeezed him back, happy that he was there, happy my brother could help me get through this.

“Daisy is coming down too.”

“From Harvard?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He pulled away. “She talked to her professors and is doing the rest of the semester virtually. They’re going to give her the notes and everything and let her take her tests at centers here in New York.”

“Wow, that’s great. Does Mom know?”

He shook his head. “She’ll just try to talk her out of it.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“So, other than life sucking, what’s new with you?”

I shrugged. “Being miserable is a full-time job these days…”

He gave me a sad look before he patted me on the shoulder. “Mom told me everything that’s happening with Emerson. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah…” I bowed my head.

“I can talk to her. She seemed to like me.”

“I’m good, Dex.”

“Come on, who’s better to talk you up than your brother?”

“I don’t think she cares about my degrees, my money, or the time I saved you at the lake. The only thing she cares about is something I shattered…and I can never fix it.”

“I don’t know about that, man. I think we make mistakes when we’re mentally disturbed, but if someone loves you, they’re going to love you despite your errors. If you really love someone, you always love them. But if you don’t love them, you never loved them in the first place. I know which one Emerson is.”

We sat in the doctor’s office, my parents in the two armchairs in the front while Dex and I stood behind them. My hand was on Mom’s shoulder, feeling the relaxed muscle underneath because she wasn’t tense at all.

My dad was the one who looked like he was going to throw up on his shoes. Now that we were about to receive definitive data about Mom’s progress, he couldn’t keep it together, not even in front of her. He knew what it was like to be behind that desk, to give people the best news of their lives or the worst. The anxiety made him breathe hard, made him so rigid that he couldn’t even hold her hand. The possibility of losing her terrified him to insanity.

Dex rubbed his shoulder as he stood over him. “It’s gonna be alright, Dad.”

Mom reached across the end table and grabbed my dad’s hand, giving him a comforting squeeze.

He closed his eyes at her touch and leaned over her hand so he could rest his lips against her knuckles. He just stayed that way, his quiet tears dropping onto her skin.

Watching my father go through this was the hardest thing I’d ever endured.

The door opened, and the doctor walked inside.

My dad sat up but didn’t wipe his tears away, unashamed of his emotion, not giving a damn what anyone thought of him. He brought her hand to his lips and held it there, using her touch as the only comfort that would make a difference.

“Ready?” The doctor opened the folder and looked at my parents.

Dad didn’t respond.

My mother took the reins. “Yes. We’re ready.”

Dad couldn’t even look at the doctor. He just stared at the floor, so overwhelmed that he couldn’t compose himself whatsoever.

The doctor went over the numbers briefly then got to the scans. “The tumor has shrunk by eighty percent. Her body is responding to the treatment and responding very well—”

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ.” Dad started to hyperventilate, dropping her hand and leaning forward, gripping his chest like he couldn’t breathe.

It was the first time Mom dropped her placid look, her eyes watering as she watched my dad fall apart at the news.

Dex kneeled and rubbed his back.

“Thank you…thank you.” His tears dropped to the rug between his shoes, and he continued to claw at his chest like he was finally allowing his lungs to breathe for the first time since this happened. “Oh fuck…”

Dex started to cry as he watched our dad come apart.

I moved to kneel at Mom’s side and held her hand. “Looks like you were right.”

She didn’t seem to hear me because all she could do was stare at Dad.

The doctor kept his composure as we reacted. “We need to stay diligent. We need to keep up this fight. But your odds look very good, Mrs. Hamilton.”

Dad left the chair and moved to the floor in front of Mom. On his knees, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, sobbing against her, squeezing her tight, whispering to her. “Baby…baby.”