Page 17 of The First Cut
“Gotta go.” I hang up before she can finish, already knowing what she was gonna ask, and and head straight for my bike instead of the saloon.
A few people call my name as I pass, but I ignore them. I’m too focused on what I’m doing to care about anyone else.
When I reach the warehouse, I take my helmet from the handlebars and pull it on before straddling the seat. I start her up, and before I can second-guess myself, I’m heading out toward Melissa’s place.
The ride helps clear my head, but it doesn’t answer any of the fucking questions swirling around. Like why the fuck is she just giving up? And what does she want me to do with Millie?
We haven’t talked since she got her diagnosis, but she gave permission for the hospital and CPS to keep me updated. So she has to know what they’re suggesting. She was more than happy to keep Millie away from me because she knew it was the smart thing to do. Her dying doesn’t suddenly make me a safe choice.”
I pull up outside Melissa’s and turn off the engine. I don’t make a move to get off my bike. I just sit there, staring at the house, wondering how everything can look so normal on the outside when everything inside has fucking changed. I don’t know how long I sit there—ten minutes, maybe an hour—before the front door opens and Melissa steps out.
The woman I remember was always curvy and vivacious, with wild auburn curls and a big smile. But this Melissa… she’s a shadow of her former self. Hell, even when I saw her after the crash, she didn’t look half as bad as she does now.
She’s thin, too thin, and all hunched over like she’s trying to hold herself together. I’m afraid the breeze will blow her over. She’s wearing a bright pink head scarf and using a cane for balance. When she starts to make her way toward me, I hop off my bike and meet her halfway.
“Millie home?” I ask, my voice a little rough.
She shakes her head. “I made her go to school.”
Before she can say anything else, I scoop her up, ignoring the cane as it drops to the ground. I carry her inside, despite her protests, and settle her in one of the oversized armchairs in her living room.
“I have legs, Hannibal,” she huffs. But I can hear how out of breath she is just from that short walk.
“Yeah, and you looked like you were about to keel over.”
“I’m dying, Hannibal. What do you expect?”
The silence stretches between us until she sighs. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
A woman pokes her head in the room, her eyes landing on Melissa. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine, Nina. This is Hannibal—Millie’s father.”
“Nice to meet you, Hannibal. I’m Nina, Melissa’s nurse. If you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen making lunch.” Melissa thanks her as she leaves, and the room goes quiet again.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I admit, sitting on the arm of the couch.
She looks at me, her eyes filled with tears, but she takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. “Tough,” she snaps, and I narrow my eyes at her.
“You think I want this? You think I’m ready to let her go? I’m going to miss helping her pick out a prom dress, Hannibal. Maybe that doesn’t mean much to you, but it does to me. I won’t be there to wipe her tears when she gets her heart broken for the first time, or when she finally meets the guy who’ll look at her in a white dress and know he’s the luckiest man alive. I won’t be there when my baby has babies. I’m gonna miss all those amazing moments, Hannibal. But you won’t—because I’m giving them to you. Millie was the greatest gift you ever gave me, but… but now it’s time for me to give her back.”
Tears slide down her cheeks and fall from her face.
“What if I fuck her up?”
“Don’t you get it? We’reallfucked up. She’s about to lose her mom, her home, and most likely her friends, if she has to change schools. She’s already lost her grandparents and her aunt. That kid’s seen more death than any child ever should. And its slowly killing her. But if there is anyone on God’s green earth, that can keep her safe, it’s you. She needs you. I’m not asking—I’m telling you. You’re going to take Millie in. You’re going to make her a part of your life and carve out a space in your heart. And you’re going to love her like you’ve never loved anyone before. She deserves nothing less.”
“I don’t know how toloveanyone,” I roar, jumping to my feet.
“Then let her teach you,” she whispers before she drops her head and sobs.
With a heavy sigh, I walk over to her, slide my hand behind her head, and pull until she’s resting against my stomach.
I don’t say anything, and neither does she.
I can’t tell her what she needs to hear—not now, maybe not ever.
