Page 11 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

“Hold me tighter. Please.” Her voice is hardly more than a whimper as she begins to feel the tears that continue to pour from her eyes.

“Jess, I’m two seconds away from crushing you.”

In spite of her consternation, Jessica manages a half-hearted chuckle as she shakes her head in disagreement. “We both know I’ve got you beat in the strength department.”

“Says the one bawling her eyes out in the middle of the floor,” he argues, his arms constricting around her tighter. “What the fuck, Jess?”

Burrowing into him even closer, she finally confesses, “It’s my mom. She’s sick, Huey. She’s really—she’s really sick.” She chokes on her sob and shakes her head in a failed attempt to ward off her devastation.

“Sick? Sick how? I thought—I thought she just had bronchitis or some shit.”

Another cry ripples through Jessica’s insides as the truth settles heavily on her chest and guilt starts to seep into her bloodstream. She feels the toxin begin to course through her body as she thinks back over the last six months and the cough she let her mother tell her was nothing. Jessica can hardly bear the feel of her own pulse, each heartbeat reminding her of the life Beth Chapman sacrificed everything to raise.

“God—I should have done something. I shouldn’t have listened to her. I should have—”

“Stop,” Stefano demands, giving her a shake. It isn’t until he constricts his arms that Jessica realizes her own attempt to wiggle out of the comfort of his embrace. “Don’t go making this about you,” he insists, not unkindly. “Now, what’s wrong with her?”

She nods, pulling in a deep breath as she manages to grip onto her runaway emotions. She then tells him, “She’s got—chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. It’s—it’s in her lungs. Her cough—Huey, it’s not going to go away. COPD isn’t curable. The best they can do is give her meds to help make it easier for her to breathe—but it’s going to get worse. They can’t even figure out how long she’s had it. Fuck, she works at a damn chemical plant. God—she’s been there my entire life. Why didn’t I ever—”

“What? Tell your mother to change professions? Like it’s that easy?” Stefano murmurs, his lips brushing against her temple.

She blows out a sigh, grateful her best friend has always been good for a reality check. He’s the only one in her life who knows when she’s too weak to fight her own self-pity. He’s the only one with the unique capability of making her see reason when it’s the furthest thing from her mind. She respects him for being bold; for reminding her she’s got to be better than her circumstances. It’s a battle she’s been fighting her whole life, and to lose is unacceptable.

Be that as it may, Jessica feels the potential of loss in ways she isn’t prepared for. In her mind, on repeat, she hears her mother’s doctor as he delivers her diagnosis. She feels Beth squeeze her hand, only the pain she feels at the pressure is around her heart.

“Huey, I can’t lose her. I can’t.”

Stefano hesitates, and she feels it as he lifts his head away from hers to look beside them. “You’re moving out.”

This time, when she tries to pull away from him, he lets her go. She rests one of her hands flat against his chest, raking her fingers through her hair with her other as she whispers, “I need to be with her. I need to make sure—”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it,” he assures her, resting his own hand over the top of hers.

“Wait…”

Jessica crinkles her brow and lifts her gaze to meet his hazel stare. Feeling slightly calmer and more aware of the moment in which she finds herself, she tries to piece together what she thinks she might have heard not even five minutes ago. Her eyes travel away from his handsome face and down toward his chest. The crisp, white fabric beneath her hand is her confirmation Stefano has recently come from work. Only, his tie is loose and sloppy.

Sniffling, Jessica shakes her head and mutters, “You quit your job?”

A sly smirk curls the corner of his top lip as he nods. “Yeah.”

“Your timing is kind of shit, Stefano.”

“Please,” he says with an eye roll. “We both know I don’t need your rent.”

“Yeah, well, we both know howStefanodespises needingHugh’smoney.”

He nods, curling his fingers under hers as he holds her hand to his chest and retorts, “This isn’t about me, dove. Besides—I’ve got a job interview tomorrow. If it turns out to be legit, I won’t need to bother withHughat all. Shit—if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll finally be able to pay to be rid of Hugh all together. It’s high time Stefano became legal.”

Blowing out a huff, Jessica tries to pull herself together. She wipes her face dry and reigns in her emotions. Deep down she knows, whatever happens moving forward, it’s her turn to be the strong one; it’s her turn to be the caretaker; it’sher turnto step up and put herself second, like her mother did twenty-one years ago. It’s the least she can do. She owes her mother more than she could ever repay.

With this in mind, Jessica shakes off her moment of helplessness and shifts her focus onto her friend. Cognizant of her mounting responsibilities, she decides to tackle her problems the only way she knows how—one at a time. Lifting up onto her knees, she squeezes his hand and insists, “Okay. Tell me about this job interview.”

Stefano studies her for a few seconds before he shakes his head at her. “No.”

“What?” she asks, knitting her eyebrows together. “What do you mean,no?”

“You’re tough as nails, Jess, I’ll give you that—but even you can’t handle this conversation without the help of a little wine.” Before Jessica can conjure a response, Stefano is on his feet. He smooths out his pants and then looks around at the mess she’s made in her frantic attempt to pack. “I’m going to run around the corner and pick up a couple bottles. When I get back, I’ll fill you in while I help you pack. Then we’ll get drunk and dance it out. You down?”

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