Zane (Inked Brotherhood 3)

“He’s a great guy,” she says. “But be careful with your heart.”

“Never mind,” I say, bowing my head, and listen to her leave.

Part II

Zane

Some memories are hazy.

And some are too damn clear. I do my best to bury them deep, where they won’t intrude on my everyday life. Just looking at me, you probably can’t tell how close to the surface the nightmares live. But throw in a random trigger, and I’m drowning in the past. It’s like flicking a switch, opening the gate and letting the horror in.

Icy water. Hands l

ike vises digging into my arms and legs. No air. Suffocation. Panic. The certainty I’m gonna die. That no matter how hard I struggle, I won’t make it.

Yet I still try. I always try to escape.

And I always fail.

Chapter Five

Zane

Driving to my sister’s has never felt like a trip to hell before. She’s been sick for a while, but I held out hope—until now.

Now… I don’t know what to do. Visiting her at home or the hospital, babysitting the kids, doing her shopping or even cooking for her won’t cut it. She needs a miracle, and neither she nor I believe in those.

The landscape streaks by. I have a headache I can’t shake, and my body feels leaden. I don’t want to see her, face the inevitable, give up my last thread of hope. I don’t want to hear the verdict. I’m good at avoiding what I hate, but now, it seems, I don’t have a fucking choice.

Emma and her husband and kids live in Bolinbrook, but right now she’s at the Midwestern Cancer Treatment Center, in Zion. Driving time is around two hours, and I make it in one and a half. If I can’t hide, then I’ll face reality head-on, like a frontal crash you don’t see coming.

Christ, aren’t I a ray of sunshine? I’d better put my poker face on before Emma and her family see me. They don’t need my dark mood.

The hospital parking lot is packed. When I finally find an empty spot, I park, turn off the engine and sit in the quiet for a few minutes, trying to clear my head and steel my resolve. My shoulders ache, and I roll them, doing my best to calm myself.

Unable to put off the inevitable any longer, I get out and slam the door. I still don’t feel ready. I guess I never will.

I enter the hospital and glance around, getting my bearings. The maze of corridors always confounds me, but I’ve more or less learned the way by now. At least I know I’m heading in the right direction.

The center doesn’t specialize in cancer patients, but it has affiliated doctors from the area who visit.

Because that’s what Emma has. Cancer. Breast cancer. We thought she beat it, but it came back, worse than before, spreading in her body. It’s terminal. Which means she’s dying. And there’s nothing I can do to save her.

I head toward her room, and I see Matt coming my way. We bump fists and shake hands. He says nothing as he leads me away, and I can find no words to break the silence. Antiseptic and chlorine permeate the air, clogging my airways, and the beeping of machines echoes, like a thousand racing hearts.

I fucking hate this place. Dread this moment.

Matt opens a door, and my feet keep going, taking me inside, where I don’t wanna be. My eyes search for her, although I don’t wanna see. And despair fills me, even though I don’t wanna feel. I wish I couldn’t feel anything anymore.

Emma looks tiny in the hospital bed, so pale she’s barely visible under the sheets. She smiles when she sees me, and it looks like a grimace on her gaunt face. It makes me want to howl and throw the furniture against the wall.

Instead, I sit in the chair by her side and force myself to smile. I take her bony little hand, the hand that held mine after everyone else had left me and pretend this stinking life is worth living.

***

I spend the weekend driving back and forth between Bolingbrook and Zion. I take over from the nanny and babysit the little ones, as I usually do when I’m there, to give Matt some breathing space. He looks like a ghost, thin and pale and devastated.

Emma sleeps a lot, and when she’s awake she doesn’t have much energy to talk. I don’t know what to talk about, either, but I try, telling her funny stories from the tattoo shop and the other guys.