Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I have no idea what I’ll do once I’m retired, though. An image of her flashes in my mind, but I push it back. She was my dream, one that I still have, if I’m being honest with myself, even though almost two decades have passed. I’m sure she’s married and has a few kids by now. I won’t let my brother, Chandler, or my mom talk about her when we catch up. When I visit them, I stay at home, never venturing out for fear I might run into her. I want her to be happy—of course, I do. I just want her to be happy with me.
It’s fucked-up that, all these years later, she’s still the only woman I want. Seeing her live the life I wanted for us would cut too deep. Create a wound that would never heal. Even after all this time, seventeen years to be exact, I wouldn’t have been able to handle seeing her with someone else. Then or now. It’s a problem—I’m well aware—but one I don’t see ever going away. I gave my heart to the blue-eyed, dark-haired girl long ago, and there’s no getting it back.
It doesn’t matter if she’s moved on.
My heart will always be hers.
Unlocking the front door, I step inside and sigh. It’s damn good to be home, even if this place has never really felt like home. It’s where I lay my head at night. I untie my boots and set them neatly on the rug by the door before stripping out of my clothes as I make my way to my bedroom. My phone and wallet get tossed onto the bed, and the dirty clothes are put into the hamper in the bathroom. Reaching in, I start the shower, just as my phone rings. I groan, because chances are it’s work-related. Part of me wants to say fuck it, I’m off duty, but there’s a larger part, the one that thrives on my oath of duty to my country, that will always answer.
Turning back to the bedroom, I grab my phone from where I tossed it on the mattress, and smile when I see it’s my brother. “Well, if it isn’t my big brother. How are ya?” I ask, moving back to the bathroom and turning off the water. I don’t get to talk to Chandler as much as I’d like, so this call takes priority over my shower, my stomach, and the need for sleep.
“Cope,” he says, his voice cracking, and I’m instantly on alert.
“What is it?” I rasp, already knowing that his words are going to rock me. My big brother is not one to pull pranks, so I know whatever he has to say is going to alter my world.
“Fuck. I hate telling you this over the phone.”
“Spit it out, Chan,” I demand. Even I can hear the worry in my voice.
“It’s Mom. Breast cancer,” he says, his tone full of anguish.
“Cancer?” I ask, because I’m having a hard time processing his words.
“She got her annual exam, and they found a lump. She didn’t tell me. Didn’t tell Macie. She just dealt with it on her own. Until today,” he says, stopping to take a breath.
“Today?”
“Yeah, she went for a biopsy and ultrasound without telling us. She claims she didn’t want us to worry unless there was a reason to.”
“Damn independent woman,” I huff.
“Yeah,” Chandler agrees. “You know how she is, Cope. She’s a fighter. We lost Dad, and she stepped up. She raised us, working the family business and cleaning houses just to make ends meet. She’s not one to let this get her down.”
“Is that the speech she gave you?” I ask, because I can hear my mother saying those exact words.
“Pretty much. Well, I added a few things.”
“Yeah, she’d never remind us she worked her ass off to raise us. That’s not her style.”
“Doesn’t make it less true,” Chandler replies.
“What do we need to do? What are the next steps? When’s her next appointment? How is she feeling?” I fire off question after question, not giving him the chance to answer.
“We need to be there for her. She’s geared up for a fight. Says she can kick cancer’s ass, and well, I believe her. The prognosis looks good, and you know Mom, she’s always been a fighter. If anyone can beat this, it’s her,” he says. I hear him sniffling, and I wipe at my own eyes.
I’m a grown man, but I’ll always be a momma’s boy. Chandler and I both will be. She was all we had after we lost Dad, and that woman, she was everything to us. She still is.
“She’s got this,” I tell him. Part of me needs those words to be out into the universe, manifesting the outcome we need, and the other part knows how strong and resilient our mother is. Chandler’s right. If anyone is ready for this battle, it’s Mary James.