Page 92 of Feel Me

I run down the street and cut a hard right onto my block, my lungs burning as the frigid January air passes in and out with each harsh breath. I hate running. I really do. Except I no longer do it to eat what I want. In fact, there are days where I have no appetite at all. But Ihaveto run. It’s the only weapon I have against the stress plaguing my life.

“The will is in the vault,” Dad told me this morning, his body so weak, he could barely speak the words.

“I’m not having this discussion with you,” I replied. I gathered his blanket and tucked it around him, hoping he would fall asleep so we wouldn’t have to have this talk.

“Melissa, please listen,” he said. “I’m not sure we’ll have another moment.”

He had a bad morning, a worse night, and a really bad week.

My feet stomp against the pavement, moving faster as I recall the conversation. He’s leaving me everything, but asked me to put money aside for Mae to ensure she’ll have a comfortable retirement.

“I couldn’t give her everything she wanted from me. But I can give her this,” he said.

Tears streak down my face, freezing against my cheeks. “I’ll do whatever you want, Daddy,” I told him. It was as much as I could say.

One week. In one week he’s scheduled for an experimental procedure to remove what’s left of the tumors. If he survives and recovers from the surgery, the doctors think he’ll be okay, his body ravaged, but okay.

But I’m not sure he has a week left . . .

I practically fall onto my front stoop, my breaths so labored anguish fills my chest. But I’ll recover by the time I step into my kitchen. I’m healthy, unlike my poor father.

“Don’t cry, Melissa,” he said. “If it’s my time, I’ll go willingly.”

“And if it’s not?” I asked. “Will you fight and stay with me?”

“I’ll always fight for you,” he promised.

I sniff as I lower myself into deep lunge, trying not to lose it. It’s bad enough I sobbed in front of my elderly neighbor the other day when she asked how I was doing. But it’s hard trying to stay strong. Every thought wanders back to my father and how frail he appeared beneath those heavy blankets, and how sad Mae appeared when she saw us.

Mae, poor sweet Mae. Her heart is breaking. I can see it and feel it every time she’s at my father’s side.

As lovely and supportive as she’s been, she’ll return to England if my father doesn’t make it. “It’s not home without him,” she confessed.

I know what she means.

My father, my only family, and the one constant in my life, may no longer be around in a few days’ time. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone.

I switch legs, stretching my tight muscles. This morning started out with me clicking the television on while still in bed, only for Declan to be the first face I saw. There he was, bigger than life as always, but this time on my flat-screen. “Governor McAdams swore in Acting District Attorney Declan O’Brien today,” the reporter said. “Officially making him the youngest D.A. in Pennsylvania’s history.”

His mother held the bible beneath his hand as he recited the oath while an army of O’Briens lined the back wall, the pride they emanated appearing to drift into my living room.

Curran stood directly behind him, holding Fiona who couldn’t stop waving at the audience. Baby Clodagh was there, too, wearing a sweet lavender dress and fast asleep in her mama’s arms.

When Curran called me to say she’d been born and invited me to the hospital to meet her, I couldn’t say no and thought I’d be okay. At first, I was, despite everything going on with Dad, this beautiful baby was a reminder of what a miracle life is.

Everything changed when Declan lifted her into his strong embrace. It was the first time I saw him hold a baby. He was a natural and it warmed my heart. But it was hard to witness what we’d never share and I had to look away.

Damn it, I hated the way we broke up and how everything transpired. The whole thing was a mess, but I can’t put it all on him, just like I can’t stop thinking about our time together. Every night when I slip beneath the cool sheets, I remember how warm his skin felt against mine. Mostly though, I think of the times we spent laughing and speaking softly.

I pull down the zipper to my running jacket, trying to cool off. I wonder if Declan knows what it took for me to trust him and how lost I am without him. I also wonder if he thought of me when he took his oath. I would have given anything to be there and celebrate the moment with him regardless of how I continue to struggle with whether our relationship was real.

Real or not, it doesn’t stop me from loving him.

I finish my pathetic attempt at stretching and climb the steps, punching the security code quickly and slipping inside. The door shuts behind me as I come to an abrupt halt and my gaze locks on Declan.

He’s sitting at the top of my steps. It’s only been a few days, but seeing him is like taking a full breath after almost drowning. The relief he brings is startling, flooding me with too many emotions to count, and even more than I can bear.

My hand smooths over the railing. He must have been waiting a while. His long wool coat is folded beside him and the sleeves of his dark blue sweater are pushed above his muscular forearms. The sweater, cashmere I think, clings to his broad chest, the color accentuating his light eyes and hair while dark jeans cover his long legs.

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