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I registered his words, but I didn’t believe them.
Until I heard my dad’s sob, a gut-wrenching cry I would never forget.
I stood frozen in place, unable to breathe or fully wrap my mind around what he was saying.
Mom had been sick for a year, battling stomach cancer. The treatments had been going well, or so I thought. I spoke to her a few days ago, and she’d been upbeat.
“She… she complained yesterday that she was feeling hot, like a f-fever,” he stuttered, the words barely above a whisper. “I rushed her to the hospital, but then… it turns out she had an infection. In her blood. It was too late.”
“I’m on my way.”
I shoved my phone in my pocket, my hands cold and trembling. Then I turned around, but I was unable to move my feet and walk back inside.
“Van? Is everything okay?”
I looked up to find Brodie standing at the door, staring at me like he’d never seen me before.
“No. No, it’s not. My mom…my mom is gone. I have to go home.”
I didn’t notice the tracks of tears on my face until much later.
BRODIE
One moment I was stoned and laughing my ass off, and the next, I was shoving the guys out the door and calling my assistant, Bibi, barking out orders like a goddamn general.
No way was Van driving after just finding out his mother had passed.
Bibi arranged for a driver to pick him up from my place so he could go home, grab a bag, and then head off to the airport. She’d arranged a private flight and pick-up in Montreal.
Before he left my house, I reached up and hugged him, holding him tight. He seemed shocked at first, then slowly slid his arms around my waist and clutched me even tighter.
There were things I wanted to say, but I didn’t think “I’m sorry” would ever be enough.
Much as I loved to provoke Van, I liked him. I considered him my friend.
A funny ache in my chest bloomed when I heard his indrawn breath. Then I realized I was probably holding on too long and let go.
A half-hour later, he was gone, and I was left pacing in my house.
I called Bibi again.
“I’m going up there.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“You didn’t see what he looked like, Bibi. He can’t be there alone. He has no siblings or any other family outside of his dad.”
“Pack a bag, and I’ll pick you up.”
“You’re coming too?”
“See you in an hour. And don’t forget your passport.”
Five hours later, we arrived in Montreal; weed is legal there, and thank fuck because I was still stoned. Then I realized on the drive from the airport that I didn’t even know where his parents lived.
“I’ve got the info. We’re going to the hotel first. Then we’ll figure out the rest,” Bibi announced, seemingly reading my mind.
When Bibi and I knocked on his parents’ door an hour later, Van answered.
