“Alice?”
I nod, wearing a grin that feels fabulous on my face. “I named his VW van Alice. Right after we met. And he still calls her that. He loved me enough to let me go. Now he loves me enough to know that loving me is enough.”
I can do the right thing, or I can love you, but I can’t do both.
Bodhi probably has no idea that those words will always stay with me.
“Do you love him enough to let him go if loving him isn’t enough? Because it might not be enough if he finds out how his father planned his own death.”
I’m twenty-one. Playing the age card might be getting old, but I play it anyway because my love for him is more than enough. My heart can’t let him go without kicking and screaming, begging and pleading. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
“Barrett said Bodhi never needs to know the truth. I agree. You’re not making this decision for Barrett. You’re not administering the medication. You’re simply abiding by his request. If it’s not you, it would be someone else. And honestly …” She blows a slow breath out of her nose, forehead winkled.
“Honestly what?”
“I’m very conflicted about this, and I told Barrett as much. I know he feels desperate, and he also feels a connection to you, but asking you to do this, putting you in this situation, is a bit selfish on his part. Yes, you’re an adult, but you’re a young lady. Bodhi aside, this will affect you for the rest of your life, just like your accident.”
“I’m fine.”
“Well, fine can be a very temporary state.”
Taking a bite of my salad, I let her words settle in my head and my heart.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Bella visits Barrett, and he manages to stay out of the hospital in spite of his inability to maintain weight. I eat dinner with their family most evenings to help keep the peace between the two siblings. Barrett magically finds topics of conversation that bring back happy memories of their family. Occasionally, I even notice Bodhi and Bella trading knowing smiles about something. In those moments, I fight back the tears.
Barrett is content—weak, in pain, exhausted, oftentimes heavily medicated or high, and on good days he sleeps a lot. Bodhi’s itching to get him scheduled for surgery and started on treatment again.
But that’s not going to happen because today Barrett holds all the power. He’s his own god.
“It’s like staring at a loaded gun,” I say as we keep our gazes affixed to the prescription bag on the kitchen table.
Barrett hums his agreement.
“How do you feel?”
He clears his throat. “I’m tired today.”
“No.” I scoot my chair closer to his wheelchair. “In here.” I press my hand to his heart. “How do you feel about Bodhi and Bella? How do you feel about letting go when no one knows what happens next?”
He covers my hand with his hand. “I feel like I’ve nearly emptied every emotion I have left to give. I can’t fix them if they’re not ready to be fixed, but if I leave it all—all the love—behind, then maybe that will be enough for them to realize the fight is over. There are no winners or losers—only survivors. My kids … they will survive me.”
My nose and eyes burn with all my fears. “I want you to tell me w-when.” My voice cracks under the heavy dose of reality. “I need to be prepared. Kinda knowing like I do at the moment is worse than not knowing at all.”
“Soon.” He releases my hand.
“Soon? Hours? Days? Weeks? What do you call soon?” Panic takes over. I thought I could do this, but with that bag right here on the table, I can barely breathe past the anxiety.
“Soon as in every goodbye matters.”
“Soon as in today? Tonight? Are you going to do it before Bodhi gets home?” I glance at my watch. He won’t be home for another three hours. That’s plenty of time. Did he leave on good terms with him this morning? “Maybe I could make dinner.” My hands shake. I fold them on my lap. God … my heart might break through my chest. I can barely hear past my racing pulse. “Maybe today is too soon.”
“It’s a Monday.”
I nod several times as my knee begins to bounce. My nerves won’t be held back no matter how hard I squeeze my hands together. “There’s a Monday next week too. But now that I really think about it, people have a lot to deal with on Mondays. Have you considered a Tues—”
And then it happens. My knee stills, my hands still, I think my heart even stops for a few seconds when Barrett leans forward, nearly falling out of his chair, to rest one of his hands on my leg and the other on my folded hands.
All that energy.
All the nerves.
All the pain.
All the fear.
It comes out as a sob ripping through my throat. I collapse onto my own lap, resting my cheek against his hand on my knee.
“It’s okay, darling. Everything will be okay.”
I spent so much time thinking about Bodhi and how he would deal with his father’s death, I haven’t checked in with my own heart. Right now it hurts because I don’t just love Bodhi, I love his father too.
I’m going to miss Barrett Malone.
He squeezes my hands with what little strength he has left. “I asked Duke to get you a good saddle for Angelina, and I told him she’s your horse. No matter what happens to the ranch, she’s yours.”
“H-horse? I don’t w-want a horse. I want a miracle, just like Bodhi. The improbable. Th-the impossible. Why not? They happen. If anyone deserves a miracle, it’s y-you.”
He moves a hand to my head, stroking my hair as he mumbles something. It takes a few seconds for the words to register. When they do, I cry even harder.
“You’re the miracle, Henna. Take care of my boy.”
*
“You can’t stay. He’ll know.” Barrett gives me a sad smile.
I nod. As much as I want to be here for Bodhi, my eyes are too swollen. My heart is too broken. The moment he walks through the door, he’ll know something is terribly wrong.
“I’m going to call Etta to see if she’ll come stay with you and make a pot of soup for dinner.” I grab my phone from my pocket.
“Thank you.”
I can’t even look at Barrett. Just his simple thank you puts me on the verge of losing it again.
Etta agrees to head this way, so I hide the prescription bag where Barrett can easily get it when he’s ready. I put on my sunglasses and ready myself at the front door to make a quick escape before she can get a good look at me in my broken state.
I text Bodhi.
Me: Etta is here. I’m leaving. I need to finish a sketch tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you … so much. Xo
Bodhi: Love you too. Thanks for all you do.
Thanks for helping my dad die. My conscience will never live through this.
“I’ll leave the bottles in the empty bag right where it is now. You’ll need to properly dispose of them before anyone goes through my stuff.”
With my back to him, my hand on the front doorknob, I nod.
The drippy faucet in the kitchen marks time, punctuating the silence, cementing reality as I catch sight of Etta.
“I love you, darling.”
Oh god …
I can’t breathe, and I definitely can’t speak, so I nod without looking back. Rushing out the door, I hold my phone up to my ear so Etta thinks I’m on a call. With my breath held hostage and my last bit of composure ready to shatter, I give her a friendly wave while passing her on the ramp. When the door closes to the house and I’m at least ten yards from the porch, I nearly vomit, choking on my grief.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
I consume enough edibles to get to sleep. Then I wake up at three in the morning, fully clothed. If—when—Bodhi calls, I want to be ready.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I stare at my phone. I stare at it until my eyes fatigue. Collapsing onto my side, I rest the phone on my pillow and stare at it some more until I fall asleep again.
Dave Matthews “You and Me” blares from my phone—my new ringtone for Bodhi. Before I went to sleep last night, I turned the volume up all the way because I didn’t want to sleep through his call. Now, as my heart stops, blocking all oxygen from my lungs, I rethink that decision.
I’m not sure how they find their way out so quickly, but tears stream down my face. This is it. I swipe the screen of my phone, bringing it to my ear slowly, prolonging the inevitable for just a few seconds longer.
“Hey.” My hand flies to my mouth to stop the sob that threatens to trample my hey.
“Good morning, sexy.”
My jaw drops, mid-sob. Good morning sexy? That’s not what one says when their father is dead. Oh my god … Barrett didn’t do it. Why didn’t he do it? I’m relieved that he didn’t, but what does this mean?
I blow out a slow breath to steady my voice. “What’s up?”
“I need a favor.”
“Um … sure.” I wipe my eyes, feeling like this huge weight has been lifted from my chest.
“Duke just called. Etta is under the weather today, and I woke up a little late. My dad and I were up late talking. Memory lane. It was great, but I missed my alarm.” Bodhi’s words are slightly clipped like he’s hustling. “He’s probably tired too, so I don’t want to wake him yet. How soon could you be here? I just don’t want him to be alone when he does wake up, and I’d rather not have to call in and use another personal day. I’ll need those days for his surgery.”