“That’s a beautiful thought. You should tell her that, Brody. Even if her eyes aren’t open. Maybe she can hear you.”
“You know what? You’re right. There’s a lot of shit I probably should have said to her before now.”
“I’m sure she knows how you feel, but getting the words out might help both of you.”
“Thanks, babe.”
“I hope it turns out okay.”
“Me too.”
Normally, I would take half a pill before getting on a short flight. Instead, I took a full one. Aside from my regular preflight jitters, I was anxious to get back home, wanting to be there to support Brody if he needed me. Unfortunately, I’d soon find out, that I wasn’t the only one ready to console him.
Chapter 30
Willow
Lust. There’s a reason that it’s just a scramble of the letters that spell slut.
I was literally sitting on my beloved grandmother’s deathbed, and yet my heartbeat accelerated the minute Brody walked back into the room. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a fitted thermal, he turned the identity-shielding bill of his cap backward, and I had to force my gaping mouth closed. With his backward baseball cap and hair sticking out all over, he looked just like the jock I fell for.
“Anything?”
I shook my head. “They only brought her back a few minutes ago. There was a backup in CAT scan. The nurse said results would be backed up, too.”
He dug something from his pocket and extended his hand palm up, holding a swipe card of some kind. “Your turn.”
My forehead creased.
“My place is only four blocks away. You said you live all the way uptown. I picked up a T-shirt and those yoga pants you women wear in the hotel gift shop and left them in the bathroom for you, in case you want to change.”
“The hotel gift shop?”
“I live at the Regency Hotel.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. During the season. I stay in the cabin the rest of the year.”
“The cabin? You still have the cabin? Is it finished?”
He smiled. “I’m still working on it. But it’s getting there.”
The cabin upstate was the first major purchase Brody had made when he turned pro. The land was beautiful, but the place was a disaster. He’d wanted to rebuild it all himself. I’d only visited it once, but the memories had stayed with me. It was one of the last good weeks I’d had before I spiraled out of control this last time. We’d christened every room the week we were up there. One memory, in particular, replayed in my mind often. We had just made love in front of the fireplace that looked out at the lake, and we talked about spending the offseason there together, fixing the place up. He had told me he was going to build another fireplace in the bedroom because he loved the way my eyes looked in the fire’s glow. Brody and I had a lot of memories, but that one, that time in front of the fireplace, I remember feeling utterly and completely loved.
“Go.” He snapped me back to the present. “We’re probably going to be here again tonight. Penthouse two.”
“You sure you don’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t offer if I did. Go. I got it here for a while. Besides. Can’t have you smelling up the place, can we? That’s my job.”
***
I’d never been in a penthouse before. But it basically looked like what I expected it to look like. Large, open, clean and fancy. What it didn’t look like was Brody’s home. Some binders with the Steel’s logo rested on the end table in the living room. The dining room table held some mail and a folded jersey. But little else screamed that someone lived there for four months of the year.
I wandered into the master bedroom. The spacious walk-in closet was filled with clothes and shoes. One whole side was practice jerseys, football pants, sweatshirts and Under Armor. There had to be at least twenty pairs of sneakers and cleats lined up on that side of the closet. I opened a few of the built-in drawers—everything was folded neat and tidy. Brody had always been more of a shove it in a drawer and make it fit kind of guy. Someone else was definitely putting away his laundry. The absence of any women’s clothing in the closet made me think that someone was a maid, rather than his girlfriend.
Behind a dividing wall was a large master bath with a double sink and an enormous tiled shower. No fancy shampoos and conditioners, no perfumes or makeup. No sign of a woman spending frequent nights here. Although there were enough water jets and space in that shower to have a small party. It made me wonder if Brody entertained often.
As I headed out of the master suite, I couldn’t help myself. I was already overstepping boundaries by snooping, might as well jump in with both feet. I slid open the bedside table. Inside was a set of Beats headphones, an iPod, some business cards and a stack of folded papers. I moved some of the papers to the side, revealing a half-empty box of condoms and an almost empty bottle of lube. Well, that answered that question. I guess he did entertain often.
There was another, smaller bathroom in the hallway. That one had the clothes Brody mentioned purchasing from the gift shop. Feeling even dirtier than I’d felt when I first came in, I took a quick shower and mentally scolded myself for violating Brody’s trust when he had been so kind to me. Again.
It was a full hour after I returned to the hospital when the doctor finally walked in. His face broke my heart before he even spoke. Brody had been sitting on the other side of Grams’ bed and stood, so I did the same. I suddenly felt lightheaded, but I couldn’t move to sit back down. My hand reached for my necklace. I had a nervous habit of playing with it whenever I was scared. Only, it was missing. So I wrapped my hand around my throat and waited.
“The results from the repeat scan are back.” The doctor paused and took a deep breath. “And I wish I had better news.” He looked at Brody and then at me. “Your grandmother suffered a massive stroke that affected the blood flow through the main middle cerebral artery. The blood was basically pooling in one area, causing the other side of her brain to be completely deprived of blood.”
“Was? Does that mean it’s stopped?” I clung to the only potentially positive word that he spoke.
“It’s slowed. But the damage is extensive. The areas that were deprived of blood are swelling. The brain is encased by the walls of the bony skull, and the swelling is causing severe intracranial pressure. This pressure prevents blood from flowing, causing more damage, which in turn causes more swelling. It’s a vicious cycle.”
“What can be done?” Brody asked.
“Well, the most effective way to treat massive brain swelling is a surgical procedure called a hemicraniectomy. We would remove a portion of the skull to allow the swelling to expand beyond the confines of the skull. But in your grandmother’s case, it’s highly unlikely that she would survive the procedure. As you know, we intubated to help her breathe when she came in. Unfortunately, her body isn’t even trying to breathe on her own. And the reactiveness of her pupils has slowed. We’ll continue to monitor her brain functions closely, but you need to prepare yourself for the worst. I’m sorry.”
I think we were both numb. So many questions ran through my mind, yet when the doctor asked if I had any, I just stared at him like I didn’t speak the language. Eventually, he turned to Brody. The two of them talked quietly for a few minutes. I heard the sound of different voices, but the words didn’t register. It was a feeling I was all too familiar with, the consummate fog of a drug-induced haze. A craving that had finally begun to subside in the last few months came barreling back with a vengeance. My hands gripped the arms of the chair, so it didn’t knock me over.
The doctor closed the door as he left, giving us privacy. “You okay?” Brody walked to me and kneeled down next to where I was sitting.
“No.”
He covered one of my hands with his. “It’s a lot to take in. I know.”
A laugh came out, as bitter as it tasted. “You know what I’m sitting here thinking? After everything the doctor just said?” I looked Brody in the e
ye, and he held my stare until I continued. “That I want to get the hell out of here so I can go get high. My grandmother, who took me in and never gave up hope on me, is dying. And what do I want to do? Run away. As usual.”
Brody looked down for a long time. I figured he was trying to swallow the hatred he had for me. But when he spoke, he surprised me. “It’s normal. You’re scared, so you want to run.”
I scoffed, hating myself. “I must be scared a lot.”
“You know what, Willow? I think you are scared a lot. I’m no shrink, but people have two choices when they’re scared. To run or to fight. You lived a rough life before Marlene. Running was a survival instinct for you.”
I stared at my lifeless grandmother. “I don’t want to run now. It’s the least I can do.”
“So don’t.”
“You say that like it’s easy.”
“It’s not. Nothing about this is easy.”
I covered his hand with my other one and looked up at him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll get through this. Just fight with me.”
***
Brody had missed practice yesterday, so he had no choice but to go today. He was gone about five hours. The look on his face when he walked back into Marlene’s room was one of total relief.
“How is she?” he said.
“About the same.”
He nodded. “And you?”
“I’m fighting.”
Brody smiled and took off his jacket. “Glad to hear it.”
“How was practice?”
“Got knocked on my ass plenty.”
“Hard to focus?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah. My head wasn’t in it today.”
“I was thinking while you were gone. We should put her game shows on tomorrow. Maybe even play the way we used to play with her. Maybe she can hear us, and that would make her happy.”
“That’s a good idea. She’d like that. And I should call over to Broadhollow Manor, let them know what’s going on. Grouper would probably want to stop by and visit.”
“He seems like a nice guy.”
“He is. Just don’t let him know I said that.”
I laughed. “Funny. He said the exact same thing about you.”
Brody smiled. “I knew the old bastard loved me.”
Hours later, the doctor came back in. He told us to go get some sleep and come back in the morning. Tomorrow they would rerun the scan, and then we would likely have some big decisions to make. I couldn’t even think about tomorrow yet. Around midnight, we decided to go home for a few hours.
“Come on. I’ll give you a ride. My car is in the lot across the street since I came straight from practice.”
I wasn’t even going to pretend to put up an argument. The last two days had caught up with me, and lifting my arm to open a door felt like an effort.
Brody’s car was a Range Rover with an interior of supple leather and wood. “This is much better than the Bronco,” I teased, referring to the 1981 red-and-white-striped jalopy he driven throughout high school and college.
He smiled “Just a little.”
“Although that Bronco held a lot of good memories.” I glanced into the backseat of his fancy new car, thinking of the endless hours we had spent fooling around in the wide back seat. Brody caught my glance, and our eyes met for a brief second. Neither of us said another word the rest of the way uptown, except when I needed to give directions.
Pulling up to my apartment, I was a little embarrassed. The building was in a bad neighborhood—proof of that was hanging out right at the front door. Two guys who screamed “drug dealers” watched as we pulled to the curb and stopped.
“This is where you live?”
“Yeah. It’s what I can afford. I’m hoping to move soon, though.”
Brody started to say something, then stopped.
“Thank you for the ride. For everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
I made it halfway to the door when Brody called after me. “Willow?”
He jogged to catch up to me. “Stay at the hotel I’m staying at. At least tonight. I’ll get you a room.”
“That’s sweet of you. But I’m fine. Really, I am.”
“I wasn’t worried about you.” He lied right through his teeth. “It would help me sleep better tonight. Knowing you weren’t . . . ” He looked around, his thoughts evident without having to voice them.
“I’ll get my stuff.”
Chapter 31
Delilah
I set my alarm for six, even though I hadn’t really decided if I was going to go or not. After a quick shower, I grabbed my phone from the charger and scanned our texts from last night again.
Brody: Not good.
Delilah: I’m sorry. Anything I can do?
Brody: A naked picture might help . . .
Delilah: LOL. Glad to see you sound more like yourself now. This afternoon when we spoke, there wasn’t one sexual innuendo. I was worried.
Brody: Me too.
Delilah: You staying at the hospital tonight?
I remembered typing that last text and then editing out one word. The initial text read: You staying at the hospital tonight alone? But immediately afterward I felt selfish and was glad I hadn’t sent it. He was going through a horrible time, and my jealousy had no place.
Brody: No. Heading back to Regency soon. I’ll be back for visiting hours in the morning at nine.
Delilah: OK. Hope you get some sleep.
Brody: Call me in the morning. I’ll set an alarm for seven thirty so you can talk dirty to me before I shower.
My mind was busy debating whether I should or shouldn’t as I dried my hair and got my clothes ready. Slipping on an expensive bra and panty set that I’d splurged on last week, I realized my head was bullshitting itself. Who was I kidding? I’d shaved my legs and donned new sexy underwear. I had already mentally decided I was surprising Brody with an in-person wake-up call, even before I admitted it to myself.
Luckily for me, the uniformed elevator operator remembered seeing me with Brody. So when I explained with a blush that I wanted to surprise my boyfriend, he slipped the key into the slot with a sly grin. It was a good thing, because I had completely forgotten access to the penthouse floor required a special key.
There was really no reason for me to be nervous, yet there I was, standing in front of Brody’s suite, a bag of his favorite pumpkin spice muffins in one hand and coffees in a cardboard carrier in the other, and I was anxious about knocking unannounced.
I took a deep breath, raised my knuckles and rapped on the door marked PH2.
No response.
Pulling out my phone, I checked the time—seven thirty-three. Maybe he was sleeping still, or in the shower . . . or had decided to leave early.
I knocked one more time. The second time louder than the first.
I had just started to turn away when I heard the sound of feet walking toward the door.
Brody answered, wearing only tight black boxer briefs. He had a toothbrush in his mouth, and his hair was a sexy mess. His foaming mouth turned to a smile.
I held up the bag of muffins. “I brought you breakfast.”
His eyes swept me from head to toe, making me feel deliciously violated. “You certainly did.”
I was very glad I’d changed my outfit four times and decided on something a bit on the sexy side.
He stepped aside, holding his arm out for me to enter. “Ladies first.”
I handed him the coffees as I passed. “Ladies first is just the Brody Easton way of saying, ‘Let me check out your ass.’”
“You know it.” He chuckled and disappeared into the bathroom, coming back after he had finished his teeth.
“I thought maybe you could use a happy wake-up call and something to eat.”
Brody took the bag from my hand and tossed it over his shoulder before wrapping his arms around my waist and tugging me close. “That’s perfect. I’m fucking s
tarving.”
“What are you doing?” He walked me backward until the backs of my knees hit the couch.
“I’m going to eat.” He gave me a gentle but firm shove so I fell back, landing on the couch. Looking up at him, my eyes stared at his beautiful face, but I was quickly distracted. Trailing down his broad shoulders, across his muscular pecs and abs, my gaze landed on his glorious carved V. That indentation could seriously make me forget my name.
“You look hungry, too.” He smirked, catching me ogling him.
“God, you wake up looking like that. Your body really is ridiculously incredible.”
He rubbed his bulging erection through his tight underwear. Watching him touch himself made me clench my thighs together. “I’m glad you like it. But I want to see more of yours. Pull up that skirt.”
I hesitated for a brief second. I’d only just walked in the door, and daylight was shining in through the living room windows. But I’d come here hoping to bring him some happiness in the midst of a couple of tough days. Plus . . . look at that V.
I reached down to the bottom of my skirt and gathered it, letting it bunch around my hips. I would look like a wrinkled mess at the office later, but I knew when Brody was done with me, I wasn’t going to care in the slightest.
“These are in the way.” He reached down, and with one quick tug tore off my brand new panties.
Before I could retort that I would have taken them off, he dropped to his knees and buried his face between my legs.
Oh God.
He devoured me. Licking and sucking, his hands gripping my hips to hold me in place when I started to wiggle around.
I need to move.
But the more I bucked, the harder he held me down and the more aggressive his tongue lashed out at me. It was frustrating—I needed to gyrate my hips to meet his rhythm. Realizing I wasn’t going to get anywhere pinned by his strength, I dug my fingers into his hair, attempting to take some control back.
He chuckled when I pulled his hair to move his head slightly up, but took the hint and shifted his focus to my aching clit. Alternating between fluttering and sucking, he brought me to orgasm. I had been inside of his apartment less than ten minutes.