Page 28 of The Facade

Cambrielle’s dad was white like my dad, but her mom had slightly darker features—my mom once mentioned that Mrs. Hastings had some Native American blood in her.

And even though Nash—her only full-blooded sibling—was blond-haired and blue-eyed like their dad, Cambrielle was a perfect mix of both. Smooth, tanned skin closer to Carter’s coloring, bright blue eyes like her dad, and brown hair like her mom.

It was always interesting to me how different traits showed up differently in families. I myself looked almost identical to my father aside from being a lot darker and my hair having a much different texture. I had his straight nose, the Aarden family’s defined jawline, his long fingers and big hands that helped me handle the basketball on the court.

We both wore size fifteen shoes—which meant that we had to special order those in most of the time. We even had the same long lashes that my mom was always so jealous of.

I’d liked taking after my father, since he was the male parent and what guy wanted to resemble a woman?

But now that my mom was only going to be here a short while longer, it made me wish I had more than just her curly black hair, ears that were slightly pointy on top, and what our friends call our mega-watt smiles.

I wanted more of her in my genes, so I could pass them on to my future children who would never get to meet their grandma.

I drew in a deep breath and tried to focus back on the present moment where my mom was still alive and Cambrielle was simply bandaging my arm.

She wrapped the end of the bandage over the back of my hand and secured it with two silver clips.

And then, since Cambrielle seemed to read me better than anyone else these days, she took my hand between hers and said, “What’s really going on, Mack?” She had that look in her eyes that sometimes made me wonder if she could see into my soul. “When you came down before the ride, something was wrong. Is that why you were driving so fast? Did something happen before you came out?”

I looked down at our hands, lifted my pointer finger so my nail brushed against the inside of her wrist, and debated on whether to tell her about my dad’s call. But since she’d be finding out soon anyway, I sighed and said, “My dad called me right before the ride.”

“He did?” she asked, anxiety in her voice.

I lifted my gaze to hers. “I guess my mom had another seizure. A pretty bad one this time and…” I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “And they’re reconsidering the treatment.” My tongue felt heavy with the words. “They’re talking about driving back after she’s rested so she can live out her time at home.”

Even though I’d known about this for an hour—known the end had been drawing near for months—tears still pricked behind my eyes.

I pinched my eyes shut, pushing the tears away before they could fall.

Cambrielle let out a tiny gasp. In a soft voice, she said, “I’m so sorry, Mack.”

I nodded and turned my head to the side to look out the window, hoping that if I didn’t see the sadness I knew would be in Cambrielle’s expression, it would help me keep things together.

I hated crying in front of people. Call it what you want—toxic masculinity, or that I’d been born in a world where guys were told to be tough and not to cry—but I hated getting emotional in front of people.

I was the funny guy at school. The one who always cracked a joke to ease the tension. The one who used the smile my mother had given me to brighten other people’s day.

I wasn’t the one who broke down and made people feel sorry for me. I saved up my tears for when I was alone in my room so no one would see Mr. Congeniality breaking down.

I knew the facade I tried to put on didn’t really fool anyone—that all my friends knew I’d been different lately. But I appreciated that they went along with it. Had fun with me when I needed it and let me take time away when I needed that, too.

Cambrielle slid her hand up my arm in a soothing gesture. “I won’t pretend like everything’s going to be okay, because I know what’s coming is a nightmare. But…” She sighed and squeezed my forearm. “But I’m going to be here for you. My whole family will always be here for you and your dad.”

When I met her gaze, her eyes were as watery as mine. And even though I hated that my pain seemed to spread like a virus to everyone around me, I appreciated her words.

Appreciated that she always seemed to know just what I needed to hear.

“Thank you,” I said.

We were quiet for a beat as I tried to think of something more to say. But when nothing came to mind, I sighed and said, “I think I’m going to go lie down for a bit. Tell everyone I’ll see them later?”

“Of course.”

We both stood. Before I could leave, she said, “Can I at least give you a hug?”

“Sure. You know I’ll never turn down a hug,” I said, opening my arms to her.

She stepped closer and I let my arms go around her back. She was so short that the top of her head only barely reached my chest when her arms wrapped around my waist.

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