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“Aw, that’s my sexy caveman.”
I place a tiny kiss on the tip of her nose, because I can, and I want to see her smile one last time before I go.
The team is waiting in the SUV in the driveway. Jonesy honks the horn, and I wave at him.
“Kate’s last text said she needs another hour or two. Remember where I hid the keys to Mom’s car in case you need them?”
My mother hasn’t driven for over a year. She kept getting lost, even on short trips. We had to hide her keys since she would sometimes forget she shouldn’t be driving. She told me I should sell her car, but I haven’t been able to do it yet. More of that denial and telling myself that she’d get better.
Mia’s car has been at her house, so I’m glad to have another vehicle for her to use. I’m also thankful I had the foresight to drive it to the store once a week to keep it in working order.
“Yes, I remember. I’ll be watching you. Now go get him.”
“Love you.”
The apples of her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink. “I love you too.”
One more kiss, then I leave. When I get in the car, Jonesy gives me a curious once over.
“What’s that look for?”
He shrugs. “Is your mom sick?”
“Huh?”
Not sure whether I’m playing dumb or stalling. Maybe both.
“Is she sick?” he asks again, this time with his brows raised and an air of annoyance coming off him.
I gulp, then face the road for a bit.
Why can’t I say it? It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and I’m no longer in denial. My Redleg brothers will understand.
I’m about to answer honestly when Sawyer takes the opportunity to add a bit of levity, throwing his voice to impersonate Chris Tucker from the movieRush Hour. “Do you understand the words that are coming out of his mouth?”
We all laugh.
It’s always felt surreal, how we can be on the way to do some badass shit like apprehending a dirty FBI agent and still break out in hysterics. In five minutes, we’ll be stone-cold serious, with our game faces securely attached.
Once we sober, I clear my throat and come out with it. “Yes. She’s sick. She has Alzheimer’s. It’s gotten worse lately, so I can’t leave her alone.”
Jonesy glances at me from the driver’s seat, compassion pulling his visage in tight and a hard set in his jaw. “Man, I’m sorry. I feel like a dick. I didn’t know.”
I clap his upper arm. “No apologies. I haven’t told anyone yet. Except Mia.”
“Not even Boss?” Aaron asks.
I meet his eyes over my shoulder. “No. Not yet. I’ll tell him the next chance I get. He’s probably wondering after this.”
To be honest, I’m surprised he didn’t insist on an explanation, but I guess he trusts me.
“Klein, how long has she had it? She’s so young.” Sawyer’s words are free of his typical jest, and his tone is reserved.
“It’s early onset. She’s only sixty-two, but she was diagnosed around fifty-eight. At first, the symptoms were barely there, but over the last year, her decline has accelerated.”
“So you’ve been dealing with this for four years? Two of which have been totally alone since your dad passed away?” Jonesy looks at the guys in the back seat, then at the road. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
Sawyer reaches around the headrest from behind me and squeezes both my shoulders. “Yeah, man. You’ve always been there for us when we’re dealing with shit. We’d do the same for you.”
