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Her heart is what created the beautiful, strong, amazing woman that is Aurora Swanson. So for as long as it beats, that’s all that matters.
“I’m bringing the phone to Rory,” I tell the woman softly. “Fifteen seconds away. So I want you to give them privacy now.”
“I’ll be out of view,” she assures me, switching off the machine that audiblybeep-beep-beeps. “I won’t speak.”
“Good.” I close my lips and trudge to the top of the staircase, then casting one last glance over the woman in the hospital bed, I firm my jaw and say my silent goodbyes. My thanks for being Rory’s mom. My appreciation for the woman she raised. And my promise to take over from here.
Then I lower the phone and head to Rory’s door to find her packing a bag. She’s slow-going, fueled by anger and tears as they continue to stream along her face.
“Rory…”
“I’m gonna go to her.” She continues to pack, tossing jeans into the bag and refusing to look at me. “If I go alone, with new clothes and maybe a hat or something, there’s no reason anyone will even notice me.”
“Rory—”
“There’s no reason for anyone to look at me!” She slams a hoodie into her bag and chokes on a devastating sob. “I’m just a person,” she cries. “Just a woman. I’m average height. Average weight. I won’t speak or make eye contact with anyone. I’ll catch a cab, so there’s no connection to you guys, and because I’m going alone, I won’t have an entourage, so that makes it all less conspicuous.”
“Aurora. Look at me.”
“I’m sorry I told you to fuck yourself,” she blurts out. “I’m sorry I took my emotional baggage out on you. I swear, I’m not mad at you. But I have to go.” She grabs her laptop and shoves it into her bag before tearing the zipper around to secure it. Finally, she looks up and crushes my heart into my chest when fresh tears stream over her cheeks. “I’m sorry for being horrible to you today. And I’m sorry that you’ll always know me as that manipulative cow, all because I didn’t get my way on something.”
I set the phone on the bed and wrap her in my arms, holding her when she breaks against my chest and clutches to my shirt.
“I’m sorry, Drake.”
“You have no reason to be sorry.” I press a kiss to the top of her hair and hold her up when she wants to sink to the floor. “You’re perfect exactly how you are, Little Bird.”
“I can’t leave her there alone,” she sobs. “I can’t. So I’m gonna go, but I promise to be careful. I do,” she adds when my arms tighten. “I swear, no one will even know I’ve been there.”
“They’re watching her room,” I croon. “They know what’s happening.”
“No, they—”
“They’ve clogged the entire street, Rory. They’ve made it impossible for cars to get anywhere near the hospital. Which will mean you have to walk.”
“So I’ll walk!” she explodes tearfully. “Even better. I’m just a woman walking in the street.”
“You’ll be a sitting duck.” I unravel one arm from around her, but I reach out for my phone and bring it up to show her. To help her understand. “You have a pronounced limp that’ll give you away from a thousand feet. You won’t even make it inside.”
Her entire body jolts with her sorrow. “Drake…”
“But you can be with her here.” I place the phone in her hand and wrap my palm around the side of her neck. To keep her with me. To keep her up. “Lie down with me, Little Bird. Be with her.”
“Oh god.” She chokes on her tears and turns to the bed, staring at the phone. Yearning. Longing for the one person on this planet who loved her unconditionally. Crawling onto the massive bed and dragging the phone with her, she lies on her side and perches the device on its side against a pillow. “Mommy?”
My eyes sting, and my stomach trembles. I kick my boots off and climb onto the bed behind her, then carefully inching closer, I cup her body with mine and bury my nose in the back of her hair. She doesn’t need me to see what she sees. She doesn’t need me to watch her mother die.
Maybe she doesn’t need me to hold her either. But that’s what I do. I wrap my arm over her body and tuck her in tight until I’m not sure where she ends and I begin.
“I’m sorry I’m not there with you,” she whimpers softly. “I’m sorry you’re sick. I’m sorry life was so awful to you.”
I close my eyes and listen. I feel her heart thunder to the same staccato as a hummingbird’s wings. I caress her stomach and hitch my legs up to cup hers. And I don’t cry. Fuck, I want to. But I lock it down and refuse to cry.
“I’m sorry you never got to experience the real kind of love,” she sobs, rocking the bed with the ferocity of her grief. “The kind where youknowa man will do anything to keep you safe. Where you’re accepted even when you’re in a bad mood.” She sniffles back her tears and trembles. “The kind where you know you’re his most important priority.” She links her fingers with mine and squeezes, taking the heart from my chest and crushing it until I’m no longer the same man I once was.
I could take back the pieces of who I used to be and try to put them all together again.
But no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to recreate the image it used to be. I can’t be Drake Banks, pre-Rory, ever again.
