Change of Hart (Wells Ranch, #3)(97)
“Thanks for taking care of your clumsy old mom, honey.” Her free hand brushes across my cheek, and I continue the methodical wrapping of her hand. Hopefully if it’s wrapped in the perfect way, it won’t annoy her, and she’ll be less tempted to rip it off. “I can’t believe I grabbed a cast-iron frying pan—I knew your dad had just used it to make breakfast, too, because I watched him cook it.”
“It’s our klutzy nature.”
“Thank God there’s a nurse practitioner in the family.”
“You just like that you didn’t have to waste a whole day going to the Sheridan hospital for this.”
“Thank you for taking care of me instead. I know it’s hard on you sometimes.”
With a gulp, I dare to look at her red-rimmed eyes. A crease is wedged between her eyebrows, and the corner of her smile falters for a mere second before coming on even stronger than before. It’s not genuine—I know the expression because I’ve worn it well many times. It’s a smile despite it all. A smile to spite it all.
“It’s fine, Mom. It’s totally fine—I went to school for medicine for a reason, right?”
“I don’t just mean the burn, although this part of it sucks a lot, too.” Her injured hand squeezes mine despite the bandages, and she blinks away the flash of pain in her eyes. “I hate knowing you’re here when you should be out enjoying your life.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” My voice cracks—an unstable attempt at reassuring her again.
“Oh, bologna, Blair.” She laughs quietly, stealing my gaze as her eyes cut to the patio door. We’re both staring out at my dad and Denver relaxing under the summer sun, chatting over a beer in a pair of lawn chairs. “I know you’d rather be with him right now.”
“Honestly, I want to be with you.” The bandage tucks around her hand, and I release a pent-up exhale. “Good as new.”
“Thank you. Go have fun, and don’t skip out on another second with him. I know that’s where you’d rather be, although the lie was fairly convincing.”
Wanting to spend time with him on a day when Mom’s mind isn’t muddied, and the fog’s cleared, feels selfish. I should be taking advantage of the opportunity to be with her.
The one thing Denver and I regained when I moved home is time.
Time to learn each other again. Time to fall in love. Time to be together.
Time is the thing my mom fights every day, because there’s a constant countdown ticking in the back of our minds. A foreboding reminder that we don’t know how much she has left, but it’s insufficient.
“I know what you’re thinking, hon. But it’s okay to want to get back to your weekend plans with your boyfriend.” She winks, clearly grasping the full reality of my situation with Denver today—a nice change of pace from her typical confusion. “By some miracle, you’re one of the lucky ones who found their soulmate. Spend every second you can with him.”
“But I…I feel bad ditching you, with your hand and you—”
“Who said I wanted to hang out with you today?” She pulls a face that fosters shared laughter between us for a moment, and I smack her lightly on the arm with a scoff. Our giggling’s loud enough the men outside turn to check on us with raised eyebrows. “I found my soulmate, too. And I’m so thankful for the years we’ve had together…you never know when it might end, so take advantage while you can.”
“Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you, honey.” Her frail arms wrap around my shoulders, and my forehead knocks into hers. I swim in the comfort of the embrace, and the floral scent of her perfume, and the feel of her thin hair tickling my cheek, and all the things I pray I’ll never forget. I lick away the tears sliding onto my lip and squeeze tighter.
“I love you,” I whisper once more, with thick emotion clung to each word.
Letting up as Denver and Dad step into the living room, Mom hooks her thumb toward the front entryway. “Okay, kids. Go have fun, and I promise to do my best not to hurt myself again this weekend.”
“You can’t even make those kinds of promises. You’ve always been a klutz,” Dad says with a chuckle.
Mom nods. “Put me in a bubble, and I’ll break an ankle walking on the uneven surface.”
“If there’s any issues at all, I’ll come straight back. We don’t want this burn to get infected, so keep it clean.” I wiggle a finger between both of my parents, because Mom’s lucid enough to comprehend at the moment, but eventually it’ll be up to Dad to keep an eye on her.
Clutching Denver’s forearm with the grip of somebody about to be torn out to sea, I follow him to the truck. The tremble in my lip unnoticeable. The stinging in my eyes minor. The fickle beating of my heart insignificant.
Until it’s not.
He slips into the driver’s seat, asking where we’re heading next, and my carefully constructed walls implode in one fell swoop.
“W-what happens…” I heave a panicked breath, not able to fill my lungs. “What happens if…if…”
“Bear. Take a breath.” He demonstrates as if I don’t understand the concept of breathing. Like it isn’t something I’ve done without issue for thirty-two years—save for the time I caught a virus in ninth grade and it damn near took me out.