Page 50 of Trails of Temptation

I ran my hands over my face, finding it hard to catch my breath. I’d gotten to St. Peter’s in record time. I hadn’t even fished my phone from under the front seat of my truck before running inside to find my mom.

Guilt had a firm grip on me as I listened to the nurse, or tried to, at least. I didn’t understand much of what she was saying. I was rancher, for Christ’s sake.

“When can she come home?” I asked, meaning to bring her back to my house in Hot Springs. I needed to take care of her. I should have been the one to see to her care, not my elderly aunt or some retirement community in Florida. Fresh guilt rippled to the forefront of my mind as I watched the nurse’s face fall, her eyes shining with that same look of sympathy she’d given me earlier.

“You should consider hospice, Mr. Neimons. Is that available to you in Hot Springs?”

“Hospice?” I ground out, my heart cracking in my chest. “But you said she was all right—”

“She’s stable, yes. She’ll wake up from this but we don’t know how much of her… spirit, will be intact, if that makes sense. Her cancer is advanced and the heart attack was likely due to her body fighting off—”

“Cancer?” I choked, my head spinning. I stumbled backward into a chair and threw my weight into it. “What are you talking about?”

“She has stage four adrenal cancer,” she answered, confusion blurring her features. “Did you not know? Her oncologist in Florida sent us her file when she joined our oncology unit for treatment. But she didn’t qualify for our program because of how advanced her cancer was. We recommended hospice care, but she declined—”

My head spun as the nurse continued. I knew my mom wasn’t well. I’d seen it in her eyes when I came down to Helena a few weeks ago to visit. Why had she kept this a secret from me? I ran my hands over my face then looked up at the nurse. “If she wakes up from this,” I began, “how long does she have?”

“Mr. Neimons,” she said softly. “I really can’t say for sure. Her doctor will be in here within the hour and he’ll be able to give you a prognosis.”

I took a short breath and looked over at my mom, noticing how gray she looked.

“Alright, thank you.”

“Let us know if you need anything,” she said, giving me another soft smile as she turned and left the room.

The air around me felt impossibly heavy as I hung my head and closed my eyes. I felt like shit in every possible way. My skin was tight and bruised and my body ached something fierce. I was surprised the nurse hadn’t said anything to me about my physical state. I was glad she hadn’t, but the thought of why I had a black eye and my body was covered in welts seemed trivial now. I cursed under my breath as I looked up at the digital clock on the wall and noticed the time. It was late afternoon now, and Grant was probably wondering where the hell I was. Keely was likely in a fit over it and there was honestly nothing I wanted to do less than call them and tell them what happened.

I didn’t want to believe it myself.

“Hi, darling,” my aunt said as she quietly slipped into the room. She gave me a sad look before glancing at my mom and sucking in a breath. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“No,” I replied.

“You should go get something to eat and just take a minute to process… all of this,” she continued, setting her purse down. “I can stay with her.”

I stood up and nodded, not saying a word as I left the room. There was nothing I could say to even my aunt, who likely knew about Mom’s cancer all along and had said nothing to me about it. Anger roiled through me as I walked through the sterile halls of the hospital and into the cafeteria. I stood there for a moment, knowing that even though I was hungry, I had no desire to eat anything. I only wanted to smash my fist through the table, but that couldn’t happen. I looked down at my fist, noticing the skin was torn and just starting to heal and knit itself back together.

An hour passed before I finally made my way back up to my mom’s room. My aunt was asleep in the chair I’d been sitting in, but before I could step into the room, a doctor approached me.

“Mr. Neimons?” he asked, his gray eyebrows furrowing as he looked me up and down, taking in my wounds.

“Yeah?” I replied gruffly.

“I’m Doctor Abbot. I’ve overseeing your mother’s recovery.”

“Doesn’t sound like she’ll have much of that,” I replied tersely, taking my hand off the handle of the door to her room and keeping it closed as I turned to fully face him.

He sighed, his dark brown eyes traveling over my bruised and swollen face.

“You look like you could use some assistance, perhaps?”

“I don’t,” I countered, crossing my arms over my chest and ignoring the sharp pain of the open cuts and scrapes from the glass that Keely had picked out of my body the night before. “Tell it to me straight. How much time does she have?”

“Not long,” he answered bluntly, his eyes fixed on mine. “I won’t bullshit you on this, seeing as you’re a man who can obviously take care of business.” He motioned to the dried blood that had seeped through my clean shirt. “Your mother was very ill to begin with. Her body is breaking down, and the heart attack caused major damage to her already damaged and fatigued body. If she wakes up, she won’t have long and will need round-the-clock medical care here at the hospital.”

“And if she recovers?”

“Round-the-clock hospice care until she passes away.”

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