Page 77 of Heart Thief

“Mom? Hi, how are you feeling?”

“Not so good, sweetheart.” She breaks into a coughing fit, hardly able to speak.

“How are you, Mila?” Mom croaks. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Mom, really. Don’t worry about me. Just get better.” Such a lie.

“No sign of coming down with the flu?”

“None at all. All the antibiotics they pumped into me must’ve strengthened my immune system and helped me fight it off.”

“I’m so glad. You don’t need any more on your plate.” Mom holds the phone away as another coughing fit overcomes her. “I wish you would’ve come home with us, but I’m glad you have Zane. It’s a relief to know you won’t be alone, sweetie. Is he back yet?”

“Not yet. Any day now, I’m sure.”

Do I have Zane? I don’t know for sure. I hate my doubt, but it’s there, creeping around my soul. I don’t express my feelings to my mom. She’d just worry.

“Get some rest, Mom. No more talking, it’s making you cough. Take it easy. I hope you’ll be feeling better very soon.”

We hang up, and I let out a heavy sigh. The last two weeks have felt like two years. That’s how it goes when I have nothing to do but heal.

I’ve been taking lots of walks through the streets of San Francisco to help stave off depression. I take a new route every day to keep things interesting.

If I don’t get outside right now, I’m going to plummet. I grab a hat, sweater, and sunglasses and head out the door.

I manage at least five miles, pushing myself hard. My blood is pumping through my body and my heart is beating steadily. The sun on my skin somehow grants me peace. I’m trying to maintain a positive frame of mind, but it isn’t easy.

It’s a daily struggle. The Great Big Dark, as I’ve nicknamed depression, takes over from time to time. But I’m giving him a fight. I won’t let him have me. It’s like we’re standing in a boxing ring, each in our respective corners. I’m determined to deliver the knock-out blow. So is he.

When I was released from the hospital, I didn’t return to Ryker’s penthouse. Instead, I went with my parents and brother to their hotel to convalesce until I was able to care for myself.

Living with only one working hand is harder than I imagined it would be. Simply getting dressed, feeding myself, and managing my personal hygiene presents a daunting challenge.

Mom left me with a freezer full of easy-to-make food. Thanks to her, I won’t starve or subsist on take-out. Since she left three days ago, she has called every morning to help keep the Great Big Dark away, but now that she’s getting worse, I can tell talking on the phone is tough. I hate that she’s so sick. I feel like she worked so hard taking care of me that she wore herself out, making her resistance low. It makes me feel guilty.

I try not to think about the piano. My fingers itch to play again, to fly over the keys, to produce the music of my soul.

The doctors are doubtful. I plan to prove them wrong. No, Iwillprove them wrong. I have to hang onto hope or I have nothing.

I round the corner and see a man standing on the doorstep of my apartment. My heart rate quickens, when I think it’s Zane.

It plummets when I realize it’s Ryker. I didn’t know he was still in town. I’m still angry with him for deliberately causing issues for Zane and me.

Amongst other things. Like the cast on my hand. Trying to let that one go, though. It’s not easy.

“Hello, Mila.”

He’s holding a shaking Arthur in his arms. Artie is the only reason I approach to talk to him. Otherwise, I’d turn and walk away. Artie’s dog bed sits on my doorstep, along with his food, water bowls, and a bag of dog food.

Artie starts to wiggle out of Ryker’s arms when he sees me, emitting a high-pitched cry. I rush forward and hold him, keeping my injured hand away from his excited movements. He licks my face, my hand, my arm, greeting me and letting me know he missed me. I’m just as happy to see him. It takes him several minutes to calm down and relax in my arms. He sniffs at my encased hand, curious about the cumbersome monstrosity.

“I know. I hate it too, Artie.” I hug him to my chest. There’s something about this sweet dog that calms my soul. I needed this. He makes me happy, and I need to do things that make me happy right now. Desperately. I’m hanging on by my fingernails. The Great Big Dark wants to be my roommate.

I keep insisting I live alone.

I turn my attention to the person—who can barely be called a human being—watching our reunion. “What are you doing here, Ryker? Have you come to destroy more of my life under the guise of saving me?”

He mulls that over. “No, of course not. I’m here because Arthur misses you. He stands by the door all day and all night, waiting for you to return. He’s hardly eaten. I guess you could say he’s miserable without you.”

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