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Chapter One
Rome
I hold Bailey's hand silently for an hour before I dare say a word. Her tiny body lays there, frail and still. For three long months, she’s been unable to move, unable to talk, and unable to live her life.
Because of me.
"Hey, Punky. You know, you really should open those beautiful hazel eyes of yours.” Her cheeks are sunken in now, her lips parted and dry even though I always remind Susan to put her favorite lip stuff on for her. After three months away from the Southern California sunshine, her tats are a stark contrast against the pale white of her skin. “I scored you a new room with a hell of a view. You always said there was nothing better than an ocean view from the bluffs in Malibu."
My eyes burn from the tears I no longer fight. "I wish you could tell me what to do, Bailey. You are always the person I turn to for advice. I'm going crazy in my head—” Swallowing hard, I stop myself. She doesn’t need to know the details, not when she can’t respond, can’t do anything but listen.
If she’s even hearing me at all.
I still have panic attacks whenever I attempt to pick up my tattoo gun. Without tattooing, I have no idea who I am or who I'm supposed to be. The therapist is helping, but things will never be okay again. All of this is my fucking fault.
“The shop is falling apart without you kicking our asses daily, whipping us not shape. "
Bailey's nurse knocks as she enters the room. "Sorry, Mr. Abrams, I need to check her vitals."
"Hey, Susan. It’s okay.” I leave Bailey’s bedside and lean against the window to stay out of the nurse’s way. She begins going through the usual steps as I watch on. Pulse check, fluids check… she could probably go through this process with her eyes closed. I certainly could.
“How's she doing?"
"No change, but she seems more relaxed on the nights you visit."
Hope blooms in my chest. "Do you think she can hear me?"
Susan offers me a slight smile. "Each patient is different. But I think she can, if you want my professional opinion." She squeezes my shoulder and leaves us alone again.
I nervously pace in front of the window, watching the sun set over the Pacific Ocean. The vibrant pinks and purples match Bailey's fading hair color. "I've got to get out of L.A. for a while. Everything here sucks without you. I'm signing the tattoo shop over to Kevin and going to work for Jacob and The Nashville Hustlers for a couple of months. It will be good for me. I get to travel and meet new people.”
Andescape—because we both know that's what I'm truly doing. I pause and wait for Bailey to give me shit for avoiding my problems like she always does, but she remains still and silent.
"I left an iPad with Susan, and she will set up my weekly visits with you. No matter where I am, I will never miss our talks." Sitting next to Bailey again, I take her hand and press it to my lips. "Goddammit, Punky, why won't your body just let you fucking wake up? I need you so damn much. You're my best friend. I'm so sorry. It should have been me. I should have been able to protect you." My words are choked off by a sob and I lay my head on her stomach, letting the tears fall until every tear duct runs dry.
Finally, after my usual two hours have ended, I stand up and bend over Bailey, placing a soft kiss to her lips for only the second time, then silently walk out of her room.
Walking through the hall, I see myself in the reflective glass. My skin is pale. My eyes are dark and sunken in. The last three months have turned me into a shadow of the man I used to be. Leaving is one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make, but I know it’s the only choice I have to survive.
Chapter Two
Andrea
Jackie huffs, pushing her long, dark hair off her shoulder and leaning toward me. We are a few years apart, she and I, but sometimes, looking at my little sister is like looking into a mirror. Our similarities are endless. "Andrea,” she whines, “This is the best offer you're going to get. Twenty-five grand over the asking price is huge.Cash in hand."
"But we need to be out by the end of the month?" I ask. “That’s so soon—”
"It is. Which is why they're offering the extra money.” She splays her hands out in presentation. “The buyers want a thirty-day escrow."
"It's just sooner than I expected. I haven't—"
"Hey, Mom!” My son calls as he and a small mob of teenagers crash through the front door.
“Oh, hi, Aunt Jackie," He adds as he enters the kitchen, then kisses our cheeks and heads to raid the fridge.
"Hope it's okay; we brought some friends over to watch the baseball game," my daughter chimes in as she enters the kitchen after their friends.
"Of course." I pat her arm as she passes.
