“You need to take your medicine.” Zoe tried to get Roger to look at her.
He was going downhill so fast.
Too fast. It had only been two months since they’d found out.
Two months, and there were days when she barely recognized her husband.
Two months, and, according to the doctors, unless a miracle happened, she only had a matter of weeks left with him.
“I don’t want the damn medicine,” he snarled, sending her a dark, ugly look. There was a look in his eyes, one that would have frightened her. But this was Roger.
“Come on, baby…”
He swung out, knocking the pills out of her hand—he hit her wrist with enough force that her hand went numb. Sucking in a surprised breath, she stared at him, but he wasn’t looking at her now.
Her hands shaking, she knelt down and picked up the pills. One had rolled under the bed and she had to crawl under it to get it. As she straightened up, she looked at him, almost afraid of what she was going to see on his face.
“The medicine makes me so damn sick,” he said, looking back at her. This time, his eyes were calm and whatever she’d seen there was gone. And he smiled at her, crooked a grin. “Come on, baby. They make me feel worse, anyway. It’s not like they can do much of anything now anyway. I’m a dead man.”
A dead man. “Don’t say that.” Tears burned her eyes as she stared at him. “Please don’t say that.”
For long, long moments, he said nothing and once more, he looked out the window, staring at the gardens they’d spent so much time on.
For long, long moments, he wouldn’t look at her.
Then, finally, he sighed and met her eyes. “I’m dying, Zoe. We both know that. Pretending isn’t going to change that.”
“It’s not fair,” Zoe half-shouted. Then she clapped a hand over her mouth. She was not going to talk to him about fairness, was she? He was the one laying there, a shadow of himself, his body wasting away, his brain wasting away…
“Zoe. You and I both know that life isn’t always fair.” He gave her a faint grin. “Life’s a bitch and then you die. We all die, baby. It’s just happening to me sooner than we’d planned.”
Life’s a bitch and then you die…
Roger’s words, and his black humor, still echoed in her head two weeks later.
Every day, he got a little worse.
Every day, the pain got a little worse.
Every day, his moods got a little worse.
Sometimes, it was like he was a different man entirely…a man who scared her. And even as much as those brief moments terrified her, she hated herself for being afraid of him, even for a minute, because she knew she couldn’t comprehend the pain he was in, pain not even the drugs could touch.
And then other times, most of the times, he was fine. He was just himself…slowly weakening, slowly fading away, but still so loving, so full of that sly humor and that gentleness that had made her fall in love with him over the past fifteen years.
Right now, though, it wasn’t one of those good days.
Right now, he stared at the wooden tray, his mouth twisted like she’d just served him up maggots and larvae instead a sandwich and soup.
“What in the hell is this shit?” he muttered, more to himself than her.
“It’s what you asked for earlier,” she said softly.
He shoved it away, hard enough that half the soup sloshed out of the bowl. “I didn’t ask for that.” He shot her a dark, narrow glance then stared out the window.
She took a slow careful breath as she took the tray.
As she went to turn away, he brushed his hand down her side. “Hey, why don’t we go sit outside, enjoy the garden?” Roger smiled up at her.
That weird, half-crazed look in his eyes was gone, and he was just Roger. Just her husband.
“Sure.” She smiled at him. “Let me just go put this up.”
But by the time she got back to the bedroom, he was asleep.
It was an hour later when the phone rang.
Bone tired, Zoe stared at the display on the phone and almost turned away.
She didn’t have the patience, the time to deal with her mother right now.
She’d used Roger’s unexpected nap to get some cleaning done around the house and make some calls to the store, and that had been a bitch. A shipment at the store had been screwed up, and she needed to get online and figure out what had gone wrong.
She had payroll to deal with.
Worse, every waking minute with Roger was like walking on eggshells. She never knew what was going to set him off and the stress from that alone was driving her insane, and then, piled on top of that, was the guilt. Her husband was dying and she was whining because he was in a bad mood?
The last thing she wanted to deal with was her mother.
Shit. Tears pricked at her eyes but instead of letting them fall, she answered the phone.
“Yes?”
“Hi, Zoe. I know this probably not the best time, but…”
Not the best time.
Twenty minutes later, she hung up the phone and gave into the urge to press her back to the wall and close her eyes. Weariness dragged at her. She was so tired. So fucking tired.
Lifting her head, she stared down the hall at the open door of the bedroom she shared with Roger.
She had to go see about Mom, no choice there.
But she couldn’t leave him alone.
Shoving away from the wall, she headed toward the bedroom. One thing at a time. If he wasn’t feeling so sick, then they could worry about the next thing.
Then the next thing, and the next, and the fucking next…
“Damn it, can I just have a bit of break here?” she muttered as the burn of helpless anger settled in the pit of her belly.
Staring at the bag of books, Jesse tried to tell himself to just leave it on the porch and get back in his car.
Instead of doing that, which was probably the smarter thing, he knocked on the door. Hell, he knew Roger needed a distraction and he’d just gotten some new political thrillers in that were just up the guy’s alley—and two of them were audio books.
Zoe’s favorite urban fantasy author had a new book out.
Books were a nice distraction at any time, right?
It wasn’t like he didn’t have a good reason for swinging by.
Ever since he’d found out about Roger’s diagnosis, the petty anger he’d harbored against his friend… Well, Jesse had realized just how fucking petty it was, and he’d shoved it straight where it needed to go, out of his heart, out of his mind.
They might never have the friendship they’d had in high school, but they were friends and right now, both Zoe and Roger needed all the friends they could get.
And Jesse needed to be there for both of them as much as he could.
Besides, his dad was worrying about him too. Ever since Roger had turned in his resignation, the old man had come by as often as he could, but it was now re-election time and instead of visiting every couple of days, he could only get by once a week or so and Jesse had promised he’d come by today.
All valid reasons.
Nobody needed to know it was a perfectly legit cover for him to be able to look at Zoe and soothe the ragged pain inside his heart, one that gotten worse ever since the time he’d laid eyes on her again in the city square a few months back.
He couldn’t help her.
She was going through something he couldn’t even imagine and he couldn’t do shit to help.
Except bring some books for Roger and offer to help out at her store as much as he could, and that didn’t count for much of anything. He couldn’t take this pain from her, he couldn’t fix Roger—as fucking jealous as he was, he’d fix the man in a heartbeat if it was in his power, but he couldn’t.
All he could do was stand by and watch as two people he loved suffered.
The door swung open and the smile and speech he’d rehearsed faded away into nothing as he found himself staring at Zoe’s face.
“Jesse, hi.”
Forcing himself to smile, he held out the bag. “Hey. Wanted to bring this by. And I promised my dad I’d come by and check on things.”
She might have barred him from coming in but he edged past her, forcing her to back up unless she wanted him brushing up against her. Which she didn’t—Jesse was fully aware of the extreme care she took not to let him touch her. The door closed behind them and he turned to study Zoe’s face.
She looked tired.
Still so fucking beautiful it made his heart ache just to look at her, but tired. Like she could sleep for a week.
Tired and frazzled and frustrated.
He felt like a major prick because he wanted to offer to hold her for the entire week.
Her husband’s dying, man. Remember him? Guy used to be your best friend? Still is your friend?
“How are you?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She gave him a practiced, completely false smile.
“Bullshit.” He dropped the bag on the table centered under a mirror and folded his arms over his chest, studying her face. “Don’t hand me the line you hand people in your store, people at church, whoever. I know you too well. How are you, really?”
She lifted a fiery red brow at him. “Jesse, you don’t really me that well. Not anymore.”
“Don’t I?” He reached out and tucked her hair behind one ear. “When was the last time you watched Old Yeller?”
She scowled at him.
“Still reading the Valdemar books? How many copies you gone through now?”
She tucked her hands into her pockets and rocked back on her heels. “Things like that aren’t exactly knowing me.”
“Hmm. How about this? You’re pissed off. You’ve been riding on nerves and caffeine for a while, but today, you’re pissed off and you just want to hit something.”
Something flashed in her eyes, but she remained silent.
“What set you off?”
“Nothing.” Her voice was low and flat.
“Nothing? You sure about that, princess?”
There it was again…a flash of fire, hot and angry.
“Come on, surely there’s something. Your panties are in a twist over something.” He slanted a look toward the bedroom she shared with Roger. Jealousy twisted his gut, but he kept his voice easy and light as he said, “It’s got to be rough, where you’re at right now. No way to burn off that anger, that stress, that…”
He saw it coming, but he didn’t bother to move.
His head snapped back from the force of her blow and even as the pain bloomed, he grinned at her. She stared at him, shock written all over her face. “Feel better?”
Zoe gaped at him. “You…what…”
Edging past her, he went to the mirror and peered at his mouth. He tasted blood. “Damn, you’ve got a good right hook there, Zoe.”
She was quiet for a second and then, softly, she said, “You did that on purpose. Pissed me off.”
Jesse shrugged. She was studying him in the mirror. Meeting her gaze, he said, “You were already pissed. I can’t say I blame you. I’d be pissed too. Holding it in non-stop isn’t helping. So, do you feel better?”
A reluctant smile curled her lips and she shook her head. “You’re an idiot.” Then she looked down. When she winced, he turned around and looked down at her hand.
Her knuckles were discolored and swelling. “Let’s go put some ice on it.”
She shook her head. “Can’t. Don’t have time. I need to see if I can get Roger’s sister to come over for a while. I’ve got to go to Brooklawn. It’s…well, there’s some problems with my mom.” She grimaced. “I guess that’s part of why I’m pissed off, as you put it. Too many things hitting at once. I’ve got to get payroll done for the store, I’ve got a shipment lost and I need to track it down. This mess with Mom. Too much crap going on, but Roger…well, he’s not feeling too well and I don’t want him alone and…”
“I’ll stay with him.” The words popped out before he even realized it.
Zoe opened her mouth. Closed it. Then she smiled and shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t. I offered. Look, it’s Thursday—I take Thursdays off at the store, so I’m not needed there. I can hang around here with Roger for a while. You go. Take care of your mom.” He reached out, lifted her hand, studied her knuckles. “Put some ice on this.”
Her skin felt so soft under his, soft. Warm. Fragile.
Swallowing the knot in his throat, he let go of her hand and looked up, forced a smile. “Go take care of your mom…and then, Zoe? Why don’t you go take care of yourself for a while? Go shopping. Go see a movie. Do something.”
Take care of myself…
Man, the thought of going shopping, seeing a movie, even taking half an hour for a manicure was tempting, so damn tempting. But it was selfish. Too selfish. Right now, Roger needed her here. He’d understand if she left to check on Mom, but she had no business running out to go primp, do a shopping spree…
“I’ll just take care of Mom.” She glanced at Jesse’s face and smiled, shrugged. “That’s all I need to do, anyway.”
He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her cheek. “You need to take a little while for yourself, every now and then. You need it. You can’t help him if you collapse.”
That light touch left her heart racing. It was an absent gesture, one she doubted he was even aware of, but it did bad, bad things to her mental state. Swallowing, she stepped back, putting herself out of her reach. “I’m fine, Jesse. I promise. Let me just go talk to Roger.”
They still looked right together.
Tiredly, Roger moved back to the bed before they took notice of him. He lay on the bed and thought about how right his wife looked with another man. He’d much rather think about that, even though it broke his heart.
It was easier thinking about that than what was coming. Easier to think about Jesse and Zoe than the fact that he was wasting away inside. Easier to think about them than the nausea, the weakness…the fact that he was going to be dead in a matter of weeks, months at the most.
The nausea, for the most part, had passed—for today. The weakness, it got worse every day and he knew it wouldn’t pass. The pain too, but right now the pain wasn’t so bad.
He didn’t want to think about the pain, though. Or the nausea. He definitely didn’t want to think about those moments—those moments. Times when he didn’t really feel like himself. Times when his mind didn’t feel like his own—when his thoughts took a dark and vicious turn and he barely remembered anything after the first few seconds.
Part of him thought he should say something to Zoe, because it scared the shit out of him, but what could he say? Hey, baby…I think I might be going a little psychotic too? What the hell did it matter anyway? He was going to be dead in a few more weeks. It didn’t seem like it lasted long, and as long as he didn’t hurt her…and he never would—never…
His gut clenched even thinking about that. No. He wasn’t thinking about that. Definitely not that.
It was easier to think about something else than the fucking cancer killing him bit by bit, or the chemo that was almost as bad.
Even thinking about how right Jesse and Zoe looked together.
After all of these years.
They’d all looked so perfect together. Even in high school, when both of them had been crazy about the cute cheerleader. But Jesse had been the one brave enough to make a move. Jesse, not Roger.
And they’d fit.
A perfect match.
Roger had figured he’d never have a chance with her.
Then Jesse had left, and Roger had his chance.
Zoe—her borderline psychotic mother, such a cold, mean bitch, and the mess that happened after high school.
So many fractured pieces… Such a fucking mess.
Crazy Grace, Jesse disappearing.
Roger had stepped in and picked up the pieces.
He hadn’t expected Zoe to love him.
But somewhere along the way, she had started to.
She did love him.
Even after Jesse came back to town. And man, there had been nights when Roger had lain awake, convinced she’d leave him. Convinced of it, especially after he’d seen the way Jesse had watched her—the way the guy’s eyes had lingered on her the first time he’d seen her. Jesse still had it for her, Roger knew. Still loved her.
But she’d stayed. With him. Because she loved him.
Looking at the two of them, now, they still looked like they should fit.
Maybe it was a good thing though.
Jesse still had feelings for her. And when this was all over…
Yeah.
It wasn’t a bad thing.
Zoe appeared in the doorway and just like the first time he’d seen her, the sight of her made his heart skip a beat, then another. Smiling at her, he said, “Hey, gorgeous.”
She smiled back and came to sit on the bed next to him. Jesse hovered in the doorway and Roger pretended surprise. “Hey, man, what are you doing here?”
“Wanted to bring some books over to you all, seeing as how you’re still pretending to be sick,” Jesse said, giving him a half smile.
“Yeah, it’s been a cakewalk. I get the best fucking drugs, my wife hovering over me.” He grinned back, a little relieved that they could still mess with each other. They were both in love with the same woman. But Jesse didn’t hate him. It was easier, Roger realized, going to his grave with that knowledge. He’d hate it if Jesse despised him. “Hey, did you say books? Shit, I get books too?”
Jesse’s grin widened. “Yeah. I brought books. There’s even an ARC in there—an author sent it to the store—not my thing, but you can read it, tell me if it’s any good. If it is, I’ll order some in when the book comes out.”
Zoe stroked a hand down his arm. “Baby, I got a call from Brooklawn. There are some problems with Mom and I’ve got to go out there. Jesse said he’d hang around for a while. Is that okay?”
“Shit.” Roger scrubbed a hand over his face. “Jesse, you don’t need to do that. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Hell, who said I’m babysitting your ass? I just don’t have anything else better to do. If I hang around my house, somebody is going to try and call me into the store and it’s the one day a week I take off,” Jesse said, his voice wry. “You’re doing me a favor, really. Letting me hide in a house where there is a nice big flat screen, food… Hey, is there beer in the fridge?”
Her plan, really, was to go home.
But plans often went awry, and Zoe knew if she went home right now, she’d end up doing something worse than popping Jesse in the face—even if he had egged her into it.
She blushed even thinking of it. She felt terrible, and felt even worse, because just doing it had done something to relieve that vicious knot of tension inside her.
She stormed out of the rehab center, stinging from the last barrage of insults from her mother. Once she climbed into her car, she threw her purse onto the floorboard. For a second, she wanted to cry. Desperately wanted to cry.
It didn’t matter that her mother didn’t even know her.
It didn’t matter that her mother didn’t even know what she was saying, not really.
All it did was bring back memories of times when her mother had known her. Her mother hadn’t ever loved her—her parents had split up when she was two and her mother blamed Zoe. Her father had dutifully sent child support and she’d always been well provided for, but her mother had passionately, desperately loved her father, and Zoe was the reason they’d split up.
In her mother’s eyes, at least. Whether that was really the case or not, nobody would ever know, but Zoe bore that burden for most of her life. Even now, when Grace didn’t seem to know anybody, Zoe suspected somewhere inside, there was a part of her that still knew her daughter.
Most of the people who cared for Mom were treated with apathy, unless they did something the older woman just outright hated. Like bathing, the event that led to today’s unpleasantries.
Zoe, though, Zoe wasn’t treated with apathy.
She hated Zoe…though she didn’t remember her.
Zoe couldn’t come through the door without being subjected to vile, horrid insults, and often, physical assaults. She had dodged so many bedpans, food trays, books and other objects, she could probably qualify for a professional dodgeball team.
She couldn’t go home. Not right now.
The wounds were so raw and Roger would see them.
Worse, Jesse would.
She couldn’t stand for him to see them.
As much as she hated to share the burdens with Roger, he was still her husband and she knew he’d want to know. Jesse, though…she couldn’t let him see, couldn’t let him know.
Her mother left her feeling too raw, and there were secrets there. Secrets he couldn’t know. Secrets he had no right to know.
She’d go to the gym.
Maybe she didn’t feel right going shopping, to a movie, getting a manicure, but she could go to the gym, sweat off some of this frustration, maybe sit in the sauna for a bit. That would help.
She hoped.
Roger was asleep when she got home.
She was glad.
She was too on edge and she needed to settle. He didn’t need her burdens on top of what he was feeling.
He’d fallen asleep on the recliner end of the couch, the foot elevated, a blanket thrown over him. She smiled because she knew Roger—he wouldn’t have gotten himself a blanket.
Jesse was sprawled at the other end. The TV was on, the sound low. He had a book in his hand and when she came inside, he looked up at her. Studying the workout clothes, he said, “You weren’t wearing that when you left.”
“Decided to go by the gym.”
She kept her voice quiet, although she knew Roger wouldn’t wake. He probably wouldn’t wake until eight or nine tomorrow. Her heart broke a little as she stared at him. He wasn’t even gone and she was already missing him so much.
Sinking down next to him, she brushed his hair back from his face. He’d been worried he’d lose his hair, that dense, dark brown, but it hadn’t happened. Resting a hand on his cheek, she closed her eyes and took comfort in the fact that he was still here.
Still with her. For now.
Feeling the weight of somebody’s stare, she looked up and saw Jesse standing near the door. She hadn’t even heard him get up.
Licking her lips, she stood and moved to stand closer. “Thank you,” she said softly. She grimaced and lifted her right hand, displaying her bruised knuckles. “For everything.”
“You love him a lot.”
She blinked. Okay, that had come out of nowhere.
“Yes. I do.” She hadn’t exactly expected to—when he’d proposed to her, she’d grabbed onto it like a life preserver. She hadn’t planned on falling in love with Roger, but it had happened. Somehow. Slowly. Along the way.
He’d always been there. Strong, silent, a steady presence in her life. He had always been there…and she had counted on him always being there. She couldn’t have been any more wrong.
With a shuttered look in his eyes, Jesse looked past her shoulder to stare at Roger. “I’m sorry you two are going through this.”
“Thank you.” What else could she say?
He looked like there was more he wanted to add, but in the end, he just nodded and grabbed his keys from the table and left in silence.
She locked the door and went to the bedroom, changed out of her sweaty gym clothes. A scalding hot shower washed the sweat and grime from her body, the fog from her brain. After brushing her teeth, she grabbed a pillow from the bed.
She wouldn’t have many nights left with her husband.
She wanted to enjoy every last one that she could.