AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I sat up straighter in my chair. “What’s up, little man?” I asked him. Alex was always so sure of himself—never nervous. This was alarming.
“It’s my mom,” he said quietly. “Something is wrong.”
I quickly stood from my chair and grabbed my wallet and keys off the desk, already walking out the door to let my supervisor know I needed to go for a family emergency. Because that’s what I’d come to think of Tawney and Alex as—family.
“I’m on my way, Alex,” I assured him. “Can you give me thirty minutes?”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t know who to call when Auntie Amber didn’t answer her phone.”
“Don’t apologize, kid.” I knocked on my supervisor’s open door. “I need to leave. There’s been an emergency.”
She waved me off. “I’ll clock you out.”
I quickly rushed out the door, heading for Books on the Beach so I could find out what was going on with Tawney.
* * *
The store was closed,all the lights off when I pulled up in front of the bookstore and killed the engine to the Jeep. I quickly got out of the vehicle and jogged around the building. Alex already had the back door open for me. I swept him into a hug and pressed my lips to the top of his head. “Where’s your mom?” I asked him.
“In bed.”
I quickly released him and walked to her room. The door was open, and she was laying on her side, curled in a ball, clutching her pillow to her chest. I kicked my shoes off and slid into bed behind her, wrapping my arms around her.
She jerked in surprise, slowly turning her head to look at me. She looked so lost, so desolate, and it made my entire body ache for whatever pain she was in.
“Hey, baby girl,” I whispered. “You okay?”
Her lips trembled, and she burst into tears. I held her tighter to me, wishing I could take every bit of her agony and make it my own so she could be happy again.
“He died seven years ago,” she croaked. “He left two days after Alex was born to go on deployment, and hedied. He never made it back home,” she cried.
Oh, God.
Alex’s father wasn’tabsent. He had passed away.
Suddenly, I was wishing he’d chose not to be in Alex’s life because him being dead was so much fucking worse. Ihatedthat she knew this kind of pain. Ihatedthat Alex would never have the chance to meet and know his father.
“I’m here, baby girl. I’m here. Just let it out,” I whispered.
So, she did. She sobbed into my chest, clutching at me like I was her lifeline, like I was the sole reason she was still breathing.
8
Slater
Tawney stayed in bed all day, and I never pressured her to get up and do anything. I fed Alex lunch and dinner, and then I crawled right back in bed with her after making sure Alex was occupied with movies and TV.
The next morning, I left her in bed, made Alex breakfast, and then I did my best to open the store, trying to make sure things were also set up the way she seemed to always have them set up.
And Alex, bless his heart, he tried his best to help me, too, though it was clear both of us were still pretty lost. I thankfully knew how to run the register, so that was pretty easy. The hard part was answering everyone’s questions about Tawney, wondering where she was. But I just deflected them, giving an answer along the lines of she just needed some extra rest.
Which led to endless teasing, especially from the older generation in the community. But I dealt with every bit of it because Tawney needed time.
I looked over when the door separating the bookstore from Tawney’s home opened, and Tawney emerged. She looked tired. Bags rested beneath her eyes along with dark circles. She was wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a black t-shirt with AC/DC across her chest. Her hair was up in a messy bun—didn’t even look like she’d brushed it—but I was too proud of her for getting out of bed to give a damn about her appearance.
“Hey, baby girl,” I greeted, moving out from behind the counter. I drew her into my arms and pressed my lips to hers. “How are you feeling?”
“Still sucks,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around my torso and resting her head on my chest, “but today is easier. That day just . . . it’s always hard. Never gets easier.”
