“Arden,” Serena says tightly.
I need to see it. If this is happening, I need to look over the medical documents and confirm that he’s dying. Only then will I know what I have to do, what Iwantto do. I always told myself that I’d be there at the end of the line, that I’d stand next to his bedside as he took his last breath. It wouldn’t be for him, though. It’d be for Serena and Anya. That’s it.
“Can you send it to me?” I ask. “I’ll read it over and then see what I can do.”
She takes a big, long breath. “I think you have time, Arden. A couple of months, maybe. But not much longer.”
“Okay,” I say, running a hand over my face.
“He wants to see you,” she tells me carefully, and my whole body tenses up. “He’s asked for you a lot this week. Maybe give him a call, at the very least.”
“Paperwork, Serena,” I snap, and I instantly feel bad, but I’ve been fortifying these boundaries since I left and I refuse to let them waver. “Don’t guilt trip me. You know where I stand on this, and I’m not going to listen to why I’m wrong.”
“You know what?” she seethes, and I brace myself. Serena is the levelheaded one, but everyone has limits. “I’ve been making excuses for you for years because I understand. I have told Dad you’re busy, explained that you’re the reason we can keep him in these nice homes and get him the care he needs. I’ve calmed Anya down when she paints you as the enemy becauseI get it.”
I rest my head against the wall, closing my eyes.
“You lost your mom and your dad in the same breath,” she continues. “We lost our mom and gained another. You lost your sisters tobecomethat person for us.”
Tears burn behind my eyes. We’ve never talked about this. We’ve never acknowledged the role I played in their upbringing,what we all lost, and how it impacted each of us differently.
“I give you grace and respect because I knowit has been hard for you,” Serena says. “I’m not guilting you into anything, Arden. Not even close. I just don’t want you to live with anyregrets when you’ve already had to go through so much. I’ve never heard anyone regret being there at the very end, but I’ve heard of many people regrettingnotbeing there.”
I blink away tears, staring up at the horrible fluorescent hospital lighting.
“I’m trying to be your Biggie for you right now, and a bit of Mom. I’mtrying. I’ll send you over the paperwork. If Anya calls you, don’t answer it. She’s not handling this well.”
“Serena,” I whisper.
“Talk soon.”
She hangs up and I suck in a breath, my hand dropping to my side. Being on the defence all the time is extremely exhausting, and it’s not always necessary. I can’t seem to break the habit. I’m hypersensitive when it comes to my father, but I fail to forget that it’s not my sisters’ fault. None of it. They’re dealing with more of the emotional load than I am, and all they want is for their sister to come home.
All they want is the one thing I can’t do.
I swallow, zipping up my coat and storming out of the hospital. The cold, November air hits my face, and I force myself to keep moving instead of stopping to let it prick my skin so that I can feel something.
I’m so tired.
I’ve spent years feeling this form of exhaustion, the one that consumes you and clouds your mind. Each day is exactly like the last. I worry about the same things when I open my eyes each morning, and I go to bed with this dull pain in my heart, knowing it’s never going to feel much better. It’s aheavy, life-changing type of tiredness. The kind that changes you. The kind that makes you bitter and jaded and rough around the edges.
It’s only after that phone call with Serena, only after that exhaustion sweeps back over me, that I realize it has been a while since I’ve felt it.
I sniffle, bringing a hand over my face, lifting my shoulders to cover my ears from the cold.
I’ve had to work less lately. I’ve gotten to breathe, to have fun, toforget.At some point, I began to rest. I started to feel some morsel of peace in my life. I’m not stupid. I know it’s because of Carter. As much as I hate to give any man that power, he has made my life so much more endurable since he punched his way into it.
He causes chaos everywhere he goes, but he brings a stillness to me. He calms me. His generosity allows me to breathe. His company makes me forget all the bad things that are waiting outside of the moments with him. Plus, he’s a good kisser. When his mouth is on mine, I can’t even remember my own name, let alone recall that my life is in shambles.
I want to see my sisters, but I can’t even fathom being in the same city as my father.
I miss them every moment I’m away from them. I worry about them more than I breathe, and Ialwayswish I could domore for them. Bring home more money. Fly back and spend time with them. Forgive him so that I can give them some peace of their own.
But I can’t.
They have each other. I find solace in that. Even though I’ve only gone home twice in the five years I’ve been gone, they have never had to be too far from one another. They have a sister in each other. They can complain about me, hold each other through the pain of losing our father, and lean on oneanother for support. It’s the only thing that keeps the guilt at bay, because no matter how horrible I feel each and every day, I refuse to go back there. I refuse to forgive.
I wish I had spent more time appreciating my life while I had two parents. Watching a love story happen in real time. I used to roll my eyes when they’d kiss in front of me, pretend to gag when Dad would force my mother to dance with him in the kitchen, even though the sauce was burning and Anya was throwing a temper tantrum in the corner. I wish I remembered the way she’d look at him, but I’ve always only been able to recall how he’d look at her. Hearts in his eyes and bewilderment in his smiles.
