Page 55 of One Pucking Chance

“Mom is dying?” My body shakes with sobs, his words slicing my heart like a knife. “Dad, I?—”

He cuts me off. “Go home, Annalise. I’m calling the nurse back. I don’t want to look at you.”

“No, I want to be here with Mom.” My voice quakes.

“Go home, or I’ll have security remove you,” he snaps. “Your mother deserves better.”

Tears blur my vision, and I hardly see him walk away. Yet I know he’s gone because I can breathe again, if just barely. My chest tightens as a torrent of tears consumes me as I hurry to pick up the photos from the patio floor. I can’t process the contents now, but I have a feeling I’ll need to revisit these photos later when I can think straight.

My father’s words always cut deep, but this tongue-lashing was the worst. My heart is completely broken, and this time, it feels beyond repair.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

JADEN

I’ve second-guessed myself this entire trip. I had to stop from turning around on the way to the airport. I had to make myself get on the damn plane in Detroit, and now… standing outside this home in LA on this beautiful seventy-five-degree November day, I’m in need of a major pep talk to garner the nerve to push the intercom button.

I haven’t heard from Anna in almost a month. She’s been radio silent, save for the two texts I received shortly after she left Michigan. I halted my attempts at communication after Boston, realizing that I needed to create boundaries for my own sanity. To say I haven’t thought about her almost nonstop every single day since would be a lie. But I’ve somehow managed to compartmentalize my longing in order to deliver on the ice.

Having never been in love, I have no gauge in which to measure how well I’m moving on. Though, I have to believe that falling for and subsequently losing a woman as incredible as Anna earns some extra mourning time. Yet I feel given the circumstances, I’ve been doing well—which is why I’m currently questioning my choices.

There’s not a doubt in my mind that I was dropped off at the correct location. Everything about this property reminds me of a home she’d own.

I press the intercom button and wait, internally debating what I should say when her voice comes through. I don’t have to worry for too long because no voice sounds. There’s a buzz, and the heavy gate starts to open. I suppose it’s a good sign that my image on her security cameras is enough to grant me access. We left things on good terms, so I’m not sure why she wouldn’t want to see me, but given our lack of communication over the past month, I was nervous.

Truthfully, I don’t know why I’m here. Miranda sent me a vague message that told me to get out to California. It stated that Anna needed me, followed by an address. No other information was given. However, it was enough. With a two-day break in our schedule, I boarded a plane within hours of receiving Miranda’s message.

I make my way up Anna’s driveway. The path of smooth, neatly laid cobblestones is flanked by a line of tall palm trees gently swaying in the warm breeze. Beyond the tall trees is a beautifully landscaped front yard filled with a variety of native plants and colorful flowers.

The house has a contemporary aesthetic, a combination of elegant stucco paired with stylish wood and metal accents, clean lines, and expansive windows. I haven’t stepped inside, but I have no doubt it’ll feel very welcoming, with an equal combination of style and charm that mirrors the exterior.

Pulling in a breath, I raise my hand to knock on the large solid wood door, but it inches open before I do. Anna stands on the other side, and the sight of her sounds alarm bells in my head. Something is not right. She appears sickly with pale skin, dark bags beneath her eyes, and sunken in cheeks. I’m certain she’s lost weight, and she wasn’t someone who had extra weight to lose. She’s wearing baggy sweats that swallow her small frame. Her face is makeup-free, and her hair is atop her head in a messy bun.

All reservations I had prior to coming here vanish. All I can think about is holding her in my arms and protecting her from whatever is happening.

“Anna.” Her name gets caught in my throat, and I step toward her, pulling her into my arms. She melts into my embrace, and her body shakes with sobs as she cries.

After kicking the door shut with my foot, I carry Anna over to the sofa. She sits atop my lap, her arms slung over my shoulder and around my neck, her face pressed against my chest. I don’t know what happened, but she’s broken, and my heart pounds with an equal amount of sorrow for my beautiful girl and rage for whoever hurt her.

I have so many questions. My mind races, searching for possible causes for her anguish, but I come up short. I don’t know, and that’s what bothers me the most.I don’t know.Anna has been going through something big, and I haven’t been here for her. Shame engulfs me.

An eternity goes by as Anna continues to cry. All I can do is hold her, rub her back, and kiss her head. After a while, her tears start to abate, and her body slumps against me in exhaustion. I’m desperate for answers, but there are more urgent matters to deal with first.

I slide her off my lap and onto the sofa. She starts to protest, her arm reaching for me. “I’ll be right back,” I reassure her.

Hurrying through the house, I locate a bathroom with a big clawfoot tub and begin running a warm bath. I locate lavender bath salts beneath the sink and add some to the steamy water. While the tub fills, I pull out my phone and order a bunch of food from local eateries and set delivery for an hour. I’m dying to call Miranda, unable to believe I wasn’t given more of a heads-up or even a general briefing of the situation, but Anna has to be my singular focus. The rest will come.

Passing through the kitchen, I fill a glass of water and take it to Anna. “Drink some of this.”

It’s clear from her sunken cheeks that she hasn’t been eating, but her dry, cracked lips indicate she hasn’t been drinking much either. She doesn’t argue, and I’m pleased when she downs the entire glass.

I set the empty glass on the coffee table and take her hand. “Come with me.” We make our way to the bathroom. “I think you’ll feel better after a warm bath and change of clothes. I ordered some food, too. After that, we’ll talk. Okay?”

She grabs my wrist as I turn to leave. “Stay.” Her soft order is the first thing she’s said to me since I arrived, and it breaks my heart a little more.

“Okay.” I nod, giving her a reassuring smile. I start removing one piece of her clothing at a time until she’s bare before me, and I hold her hand as she steps into the bath and sinks into the water.

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