Page 95 of Close Match
My hackles rise in defense of the man I love. “Don’t judge him based on one week when he’s a lot more than that, Bris. Don’t define him by that. You’re not with him the way I am. You don’t understand the pressure he’s been under, the pain he’s endured, and how he’s come out the other side.”
There’s a long pause. “You’re right. I’m only basing my judgment on what I saw in such a limited time. You’re the one living with him day in and day out.”
“I worry he’s punishing himself: for Ev, for things that happened with his former job,” I confess. “But I know he’s strong enough to get through. He is so muchmore.It might just take time.”
“And right now, your focus has to be on Ev.”
“I wish I could be there. I want to hold your hand when Alex comes into this world, but Dr. Spellman has basically forbidden it.”
“I hate Dr. Spellman,” Bristol grumbles, but I know what she’s doing. She’s trying to get me to laugh when all I want to do is cry.
I’m about to agree when she says something that takes my breath away. “For too many years, you’ve had to be strong. Yes, there are days when everyone needs to be strong. But I need you to know I love you no matter what. This is your home. You can always rely on me to love you, Linnie. No matter what.”
I try to speak, but I can’t. For a long time, there’s just the sound of our breathing on the phone. I finally manage to get out, “I love you, Bris.”
“Love you too, Linnie.” She doesn’t speak again. Eventually, I pull the phone away to see Call Ended. I drop the phone in my lap.
And in the fading light of the sun, I just sit and be. I’m scared of what’s to come. I’m out of sorts.
I feel like I did when Mom died: alone, and petrified of letting everyone down.
* * *
“Jesus Christ,Linnie. It’s like twenty degrees out.” Monty’s voice interrupts my mental inventory of everything I’ve done wrong. His concern begins to warm the place inside of me that’s slowly frozen over in the hours I’ve been huddled inside the blanket thinking of Bristol.
From the first time I held my sister to Christmas, a million memories pass through my mind. Not all of them are good, but they’re all wrapped in reciprocated love. That is until today’s phone call. My face contorts in pain.
He reaches down and touches my cheek. “You’re like ice. Get inside before you get sick. You have more than just your own health to think about now.”
Of course. It’s not about me; it’s about saving Ev. I don’t know how pain can penetrate the numbness I blissfully felt until Monty walked out onto the balcony, but it can. I unwrap myself from the blanket to reveal the heavy North Face coat I’m wearing. Without a word, I grab the blanket and drag it past him as I head back inside.
“What’s wrong?” he demands as I carefully spread it back across his bed.
“Nothing. I just need a few moments to…” But I’m not given them as Monty’s up in my face.
“You’ve been crying,” he accuses me as he grips my arms to hold me in place.
I shrug. I’m not going to deny it.
“Look, if this is too much, tell us now. The minute Ev swallows that first pill, there’s no going back,” he warns me. As if I need another reminder.
Then my eye catches the dying sun glinting off the bottle of amber liquid on the wet bar in the room. “What does that taste like?” I ask.
Monty looks over his shoulder. His frame locks. “Why?”
Hurt, I wrench away and stalk over to the bar. Trailing my fingers along the crystal decanter, I whisper, “It’s been a really shitty day. I just…I just wanted to know what it tasted like to make all these people want to use it to obliterate their pain.”
A flash of something crosses his face. He stalks over and takes the decanter from me. Lifting it to his lips, he takes a swallow. “Taste it from me, then,” he says before crushing his lips down on mine.
I wanted to understand, and in some weird way through his kiss, I do—pain, suffering, and a feeling that falls just short of love. I didn’t want anything to do with alcohol before this moment, and I know for damn sure I don’t now.
Pushing him away, I wipe my arm across my mouth to rid myself of the taste on my lips. “I wasn’t out there trying to get sick. I was already sick—sick at heart because I had to tell my sister I’m going to miss the birth of my nephew because I agreed to donate bone marrow to my father. I don’t like breaking promises to people I’ve made them to. Particularly those I love.”
Pain lashes across his features. “Sweetheart,” He reaches for me, but I step out of reach.
“Tell your mother I’m sorry, I’m not feeling very hungry.” Turning, I make my way into the connecting bath and lock the door.
The emptiness I feel at this moment is so consuming it brings me to my knees without a sound. I don’t know how long it is I stay there, my arms wrapped around myself just trying to hold on to something because God knows I don’t feel like I have anyone else I can hold on to.
