Let Love Be Read online

  “Improving by the hour? What the hell does that mean? How bad is he?” My temper flares as my body tenses. The fucking burns ripple in a flash of pain across my stomach.

  He’s alive; I have to focus on that, because right now, the look that Fitzy and Manny are sharing is scaring the shit out of me.

  “Yeah, he’s alive. And he’s going to be okay, but they’re…” Fitzy is lost for words. Well, fuck that never happens.

  “What is it?”

  Manny stands beside me and looks over at Fitzy one last time as he nods, obviously granting Manny permission to tell me whatever the hell is going on.

  “His legs were crushed, Evan. He survived and that’s what…”

  “No. Fucking tell me the whole story. What happened?” Pulling the thin blanket covering my legs tightly into my fist, my knuckles go white with tension.

  “They saved his life. That’s what’s important, but they might not be able to save his leg,” Fitzy says with more sadness than I’ve ever heard the man express in the years I’ve known him.

  “Fuck,” I curse in disbelief as I slam my hands down into the bed. Pain vibrates through my broken right arm, but the physical pain is the easy part. Knowing what happened to Brody could have been prevented if I would have done my job, if I would have protected him, that’s the kind of pain that won’t ever go away.

  “I wish it weren’t true, but it is.” Fitzy stands abruptly and jams his hands into his pockets. “Be as pissed as you want to be about it. Hell, we all are, but you’re going to have to get that all out now before you go see him.”

  “I…” In true Captain form, he stops my protest before it can even leave my mouth.

  “You can and you will. We’re going down there now, give his family a chance to head home for a few hours and get some rest. We’ll stop back up and give you an update on our way out.”

  I nod resolutely as Fitzy leaves the room. Just as Manny gets to the door, he turns back to me. Tipping his chin to my busted arm, which is currently lying across my burnt stomach, a look of guilty anguish washes over Manny’s face. “I wish I could have gotten to you sooner, Evan.”

  I never thought of it that way – that someone would feel guilty about what happened to me. “Don’t worry about it, man.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll see you later.”

  As Manny walks away, I let the medicated fog fall over me, washing away the pain I feel at letting down Brody, at putting Manny in a position where he has to worry about having let me down.

  “Do you need help, Ev?” Tessa’s words sound muffled through the bathroom door.

  Using my teeth, I tear off one last piece of medical tape and somehow manage to flatten it across my healing skin. “Nah, I got it,” I call out dismissively. Stepping out into the hallway, I slide past her and walk into my bedroom.

  Rifling through some clothes, I pull out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. “Why don’t you let me help you?” She leans up against the dresser, arms crossed over her chest, legs crossed at the ankles. There’s sadness in her eyes and I know more than a little anger. I haven’t been all that easy to get along with since I was discharged a week ago.

  “‘Cause I don’t need it. I told you that.”

  She huffs a sarcastic laugh at me as she watches me wrestle my cast into my shirt. “You sure about that?”

  It still hurts like a bitch to move my shoulder through the sleeve, but I’d rather do it myself than rely on someone for something as simple as putting a fucking shirt on. “Yeah, I’m sure,” I snap angrily.

  I sink down onto my bed, clearly frustrated with…well, with everything. “Tessa, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “Then don’t say anything. Like you always do,” she says. Storming out of the room, I know she expects me to follow.

  I give her a few minutes to cool down while I gather my thoughts. We’ve been together for a little over two years now. It’s been good, but I know she’s looking for more. More that I just can’t give, especially in light of what’s recently happened.

  Right now, here is not what’s important. What’s important is getting to the hospital to visit Brody after his amputation.

  God, the fucking kid lost his leg because of me. If I would have crawled out of that room first, then I would be the one missing my right leg below the knee. Not some new, fresh twenty-four-year-old probie.

  The cabinets slamming out in the kitchen stir me from my thoughts of guilt and shame. I guess I should at least try to calm her down before I leave.

  Standing in the arched entryway of the small kitchen, I lean up against the frame and watch her make a cup of coffee.

  She is beautiful; that much I can’t deny. Long and lean, muscular but enticingly curvy, dark and exotic. The crux – she’s needy. Needy as fuck and I don’t know how much more of her neediness I can take.

  I step behind her, inhale her fruity-mixed-with-vanilla scent and get lost for a minute – just a minute, and then she opens her mouth.

  “You’ve only been home for a few days and already you’re going back there.” Hell yeah, I’m freakin’ going. Damn rookie loses his leg and today’s the first day after his amputation – that happened because of me – he’s allowed to have visitors again. Damn fuckin’ straight, I’m going back there.

  Choosing not to lay into her, I just run my hand through my hair and reign in my anger. “We’ve been through this, Tessa.”

  “Been through what? That you’re there for them more than you ever are for me?” Throwing her arms up in frustration, she stares at me with such contempt. My brain is incapable of understanding how one person could be so selfish. How is it possible to lack so much compassion? Here come the tears.

  I can’t stand to see her upset, not because I feel bad about my decision. I hate seeing her cry because she does it to make me feel guilty, to get me to give in to her. And I do. “Come here.” She willingly walks into my open arms and I press my lips to her unruly, dark brown hair.

  The words “I’m sorry” are on the tip of my tongue, but I refuse to say them – this time. I’ve said them too many times in the past – when I missed her sister’s wedding because O’Hallaran needed to swap tours because of his daughter’s first ballet recital, when I had to trade vacations with Jones because his son was playing in the state championships.

  Holding her against my chest kills – it physically hurts more than I’m willing to express. Burn wounds hurt like a motherfucker, but she wouldn’t know. No one knows the pain of those kinds of wounds – no one except my brothers. The ones who are waiting for me at the hospital; waiting for another brother to wake up from surgery only to find out that he’s lost his leg.

  That’s where I need to be.

  Not here.

  But she doesn’t understand that, so I try my best to explain, as carefully as possible.

  She leans back from my arms and looks up into my eyes, which I’m sure are shadowed by my conflicting thoughts. “I need to go, but I promise…”

  Tessa pushes away from me, causing excruciating pain in my still-dislocated shoulder. “You? Promise? What exactly are you promising, Evan?”

  Her arched eyebrow and snarky tone are more than I care to deal with right now. “I can’t get into this right now.” So much for expecting her understanding.

  The nasty laugh that passes by her lips reminds me of every reservation I have ever had about her. I can’t deal with her right now, so I step back and grab my jacket from the kitchen chair. Painfully, I pull it over my arm, forgetting about my cast – damn thing. I toss it back on the chair; frustrated and pissed off as I walk toward the door. Just as my hand hovers above the knob, her voice reaches my ear. “Of course you can’t deal with it right now. You never have time for me.”

  I shake my head, not knowing how to move forward – if moving forward is even an option with her. The absolute last thing I want to do it to turn around and look at her disgusted and angry face. “I’ll be back later. We’ll talk then.”

 
; Without a backward glance, I walk out into the chilly fall air, the sounds of the city soothing rather than chaotic. Driving toward my work-family, I can’t help but wonder what the hell I’m driving away from.

  Two weeks.

  That’s how long he’s been gone from my life.

  I’ve already done the calculations and know the exact number of hours and minutes too.

  I’ve spent the last fifteen days¸ ten hours and twenty-three minutes without Jimmy. It seems like the only thing that keeps me going is my sick need to watch the clock simply add another minute to my tally.

  You’d be surprised how you find ways to occupy your mind in the hauntingly quiet darkness of the night. You’d be surprised how sleep eludes you when you don’t have a warm, strong chest to nuzzle into. I find that the only way I can get any rest is if I curl up with his pillow. It still smells like him. The worst minutes are the ones right after I wake up. Still drowsy and unaware of my reality, I think the scent of his pillow, or whatever article of his clothing that I’ve used as a security blanket to lull myself to sleep at night, is actually him. In those moments of exhaustion and confusion, I allow myself to believe, if only for a split second, he’s still alive. That he’s still with me.

  But then the sun rises and reality dawns.

  And it’s just a pillow.

  Not my husband.

  In those hours of darkness, I’ve also figured out that eleven years, eleven months, three weeks and four days from now, I will have spent more days without him than I did with him.

  Counting the days is just another torturous way to keep my mind occupied, but I don’t have an alternative, really. I’m existing without him, barely breathing. I find myself still talking to him, especially in the early morning hours when I’m exhausted from yet another sleepless night.

  “Oh, Jimmy. I miss you so much, baby. Why …why…why…” My pointless questions get lost in my sobs. The heaving in my chest and the sound of my voice wakes up the baby and I feel a swooshing roll and kick at my side. “Shh, relax, baby girl. Mommy’s okay.” I rub my hand gently over my just-kicked rib cage and hug my belly through more tears.

  All of these numbers play in my head like a grotesque horror film. No matter the minutes, he’s gone from my life. I’ll never have him back. When the tears subside, more out of simply not having any left rather than no longer needing to shed them, the baby kicks again. I haven’t been able to call her by her name yet. I decided on Jimmy’s top choice, but every time I move my lips to speak it, a sob chokes me at the thought he’ll never be able to say the sweetest name I’ve ever heard.

  She’s kicking my ribs through the fit of tears and I find myself suddenly counting kicks instead of minutes. Focusing on the life growing inside of me, rather than the one no longer with me, gives me the tiniest bit of strength to get out of bed.

  The gentle tapping on our − no, wait, scratch that, my bedroom door also forces me to throw back the comforter.

  “Hey, sleepy head.” Linda smiles as she hands me a cup of tea. “Did you get any rest last night?”

  “Maybe an hour or two,” I say as I shrug my shoulders, sitting up against the headboard.

  For the last twelve years, Linda’s been my best friend. We met on the first day of seventh grade and have been inseparable ever since. Basically, all of the memories I have include her.

  And Jimmy.

  She’s been staying with me since Jimmy died.

  Honestly, without her, I don’t know how I would even get through the day. I don’t have anyone else. I’m an only child of parents gone long before their time should have run out. You would think I’d be used to this kind of sadness by now, but nothing could have ever prepared me for this vast, dark emptiness that’s consuming me.

  “Well, that’s better than none, like the other night.” A lame, but compassionate smile spreads across her face. She begins opening the curtains, letting in more light than my eyes can handle. I squint and flop down onto the armchair in the corner as I take a sip of my tea.

  “Is today my appointment? Or is it tomorrow?” I ask as I blow on the steaming mug to try to cool it.

  “It’s today at eleven thirty.” Linda sits cross-legged on the ottoman in front of me and gently squeezes my knee. “Maybe the doctor will have some good news for you.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” I stare numbly out the window, thinking that good news would be that the last two weeks have been some kind of cruel joke or a nightmare from which I’ll eventually wake. But as I feel my belly tighten in a somewhat painful contraction, I realize this is not a dream.

  This is my new reality. A reality that no longer includes Jimmy. A reality that will soon include a new baby.

  The thought of having this baby without Jimmy at my side, causes a fresh flood of tears to stream down my cheeks. Linda is quickly squeezing into the chair next to me, hugging me tightly.

  Softly stroking my hair, she tries to calm me, but it’s pointless, really. “It’s okay, Lucy. Everything will be…”

  Before she can even get the rest of her thought out, I pry free from her grasp and yell, “No! It won’t be okay, Lin. It’s never going to be okay ever again. Don’t you get that?” My outburst takes her by surprise, at least that’s what the look on her face conveys. “He’s gone. Gone…How am I supposed to… I don’t know how to. How do I…” I wrap my arms around my belly but I’m in no way comforted by the rhythmic feel of the baby hiccupping inside of me.

  Linda stands next to me and places her hand over mine on my belly. Lacing our fingers together, she stares out the window watching the leaves cascade to the ground with me. Resting her head on my shoulder, I feel her begin to cry; I hear her sniffle and sigh a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to move on. I don’t know, but I am here to help you figure it out. I’ll never replace Jimmy and God knows that I wish he could be here for you.” Lifting her head from my shoulder, we exchange a sad smile. “I’m here to be sad with you. And when this baby girl is born, I’m here to be happy with you too. I love you, girl.”

  Somewhat calmed by her words, I exhale a deep breath and wipe my tears from my cheeks, yet again. “I love you, too. Thank you for …”

  “You don’t have to thank me for a damned thing. There’s nowhere on Earth I’d rather be than here with you.” Glancing at the clock, she steps away from me and starts pulling some clothes out of the closet.

  “Why don’t you get in the shower while I go make us something to eat? Then we can head out to your appointment.” Linda hands me an outfit – the only one that still fits - and walks toward the door.

  “Okay, I’ll be down in a few minutes,” I mumble toward her retreating back. I notice the shakes that rack her small frame. Saddened by her sadness, I fall back into the over-stuffed armchair and cry, while gazing out into the morning sun.

  Another contraction tightens around my belly. I’ve been having them on-and-off for the last few days, but there’s no pattern to them. They’re more uncomfortable than painful, and according to my doctor, that’s the determining factor in being able to tell if they’re “real” or not.

  “How are you doing in there, baby girl?” I ask as the tightening subsides. Of course, the only answer I get is another knee to the belly. “I know it’s getting tight in there. Any day now, baby.”

  Another minute clicks by and with thoughts of my daughter’s birth in my mind, for the first time in two weeks, I find myself looking forward to something.

  “Of course I got the cart with the wobbly wheel,” I huff at Linda as I reach for a box of cereal on the top shelf. Monopolizing on the fact that she actually got me to shower and get out of the house, she insisted we go food shopping after my doctor’s appointment.

  It’s not that I have much of an appetite. I honestly can’t remember the last time I wanted to eat something. But since the baby has to eat, I have to eat.

  As my nine-month-pregnant belly knocks about five boxes of cereal off the shelf, Linda stifles a few giggles. “Here, let me get those.
” She chuckles once more and moves to pick up the mess.

  “Right, like I can bend down and get it myself?” That image just makes her laugh a little more and I can’t help but giggle at myself. “Seriously, I’m like a beached whale.”

  Linda hands me a box of Cheerios to put back on the shelf and smiles softly at me. “I know, sweetie. I bet you forgot what your feet even look like.”

  “Oh, shut it!” I laugh, replacing one more box that I dislodged from its shelf with my belly.

  “I can’t believe the doctor said I’m still not making any progress. My due date is next week. If she’s not out in a few days, I’m going to start sending this kid eviction notices or something.” We share another laugh and I run my fingers over the well-known yellow box of Cheerios thinking about the day I’ll have to buy them for the baby.

  The loud chuckle of laughter that bursts out of my mouth actually feels good.

  Hell, it felt good to shower and see the light of day. I haven’t been out of the house since the funeral. If it wasn’t for Linda moving in with me after Jimmy died, I don’t think I would even get myself out of bed.

  As we walk out of the cereal aisle, Linda takes the cart from me. Rounding the corner, I toss a bag of chips into the cart. She gives me the side-eye, but I notice her lips curling into a smirk.

  “What?” I deflect and shrug my shoulders.

  “Nothing, sweetie. It’s just nice to see you thinking about food again.”

  We make our way through a few more aisles and my appetite comes back in full force. Suppressing her laughter, Linda scans the filled-to-the-brim cart. “That’s funny. I don’t remember cookies, orange sherbet, pickles and tacos being on the list.” She waves the yellow sheet of legal paper in my face. Ignoring her sarcasm completely, I toss an oversized candy bar in with the rest of my pregnancy-craving induced purchases.

  “Didn’t the doctor say that spicy food could help bring on labor?” I eye the taco kit.