But now, I wasn’t so sure what my future would look like. Mom was going to need help with all the doctor’s appointments and radiation treatments. She was going to get worse before she got better. It wasn’t fair for Dad to handle on his own.
Luckily, the band and I didn’t have any appearances scheduled until our tour kicked off next month, so I was relatively free to figure my shit out from the discomfort of my childhood bedroom.
“Grady, I?—”
“My mom has fucking cancer. That’s my excuse,” I said, forcing a smile for her benefit. The one she returned was small enough, but I’d take it. There was enough on her plate. She didn’t need me to break down or show every single fear I had. I needed to be strong for her like she’d always been strong for me.
Mom settled back into her seat. “I guess that makes sense then. I’ll allow it.”
By the timewe made it back to Ashwood, Mom was asleep. I quietly put the car into park and looked over at her peaceful features. At a glance, it was easy to forget she was sick. There was no pain, no worry, no stressful talk of radiation or surgery or cancer.
But then my gaze drifted to the papers clutched in her fist, which had the six ugly letters printed across the top of almost everyone, and the realization kicked back in.
My mother had fucking cancer.
Up ahead, I saw Dad standing on the front porch. He was leaning against the railing, staring at the car. He looked exhausted. The past few weeks had drained a lot out of him, andnow it was catching up. His work had been lenient, letting him take as much time off as he needed, but he wasn’t sleeping. I’d only been here a week and almost every night he’d taken to sitting in the recliner in their bedroom or staring out the kitchen window into the dark, empty night.
I got out of the car, nodding his way as he came down the steps. “Thanks for taking her today,” he said, clapping my back. “Couldn’t miss this meeting at work.”
“It’s no problem, Dad. I was happy to do it.”
“She asleep?”
“Yeah, she passed out pretty early on.”
He shifted on his feet. “That’s good. She doesn’t seem to get much these days.”
“You don’t either,” I said, nudging him with my elbow. “Don’t think I don’t notice.”
“I’m not worried about myself,” he grumbled. “Just wanna make sure she doesn’t wake up and need me.”
I sighed. “You need to take care of yourself just as much as she does,” I said, following him around the car to Mom’s side. He gently pried open the door and undid her seatbelt before hoisting her into his arms. She stirred slightly, but he quietly murmured reassurances before walking her into the house.
I walked into the kitchen as Dad helped Mom settle into bed. Might as well get a drink because I didn’t have anything else to do. Opening the fridge, I saw two choices. Sweet tea that looked like it was ready to be thrown out, or an array of Coors bottles. Opting for the harder of the two, I grabbed a beer and twisted the cap off.
Being back in Ashwood made me restless. I was haunted by the past, assaulted by memories. Even in my own home, I couldn’t escape Cleo’s suffocating presence. The kitchen? We had a brownie batter fight with my mom the night after our last high school football game. The living room? It was the first timeshe’d ever heard me play. My bedroom? God, that one almost hurt the worst. I still remember the sounds she made when we messed around for the first time when Mom and Dad had gone out to pick us up lunch.
I was halfway through my beer when Dad came in. He looked down at the bottle with raised brows before letting out a breath and grabbing his own. “You hungry?” I asked. There wasn’t much in the fridge, so I’d definitely have to pick up some groceries tomorrow to avoid starving, but I’m pretty sure there were some Hot Pockets in the freezer or something.
“Naw,” Dad said. “Don’t have much of an appetite right now. I’ll make your mom some soup later. It’s about all she’ll eat right now. I think the nerves are keeping her stomach tangled in knots.”
I knew the feeling well. “Let me know if you change your mind. I can pick us something up.”
Dad stared at me as I finished off the bottle, immediately tossing it in the trash before I reached for another. “Why don’t you go out tonight?” he asked, snatching it from my grasp.
“What? Go out where?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. The Lonestar? Heard there’s some live music. Might be fun.”
I chuckled. “Spending the night alone at my hometown bar, listening to music doesn’t really sound like a great time, Dad.”
“There’s a rodeo tonight. Could be fun, ya know?”
I stared at him. “A rodeo? How in the world would that be fun?”
“I don’t know, Grady. Just thought you might wanna get out of the house for a bit.”
“I’d rather go sit alone at the bar,” I muttered.
