Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
Bennett
W arm air roars against my face in the back of the stretch limo as the long car slinks down a desolate road in the middle of Alaska. A green haze runs across the night sky, like some massive deity took a sequoia-sized brush and dragged luminescent paint across a navy canvas.
I wish Cat were here with me for so many reasons, but mostly so that I could see the sky through her eyes. The tears prevent me from seeing much of anything for myself right now.
Reaching into my coat pocket, I feel for the slip of paper. I need to remind myself why I’m leaving and why I couldn’t ask Cat to come with me.
“You sure you’ve got a plane to catch?” the driver asks. “With that storm moving in, I don’t think they’re letting any private planes on the tarmac.”
I don’t answer him. I just look out the window and watch the trees flash by.
The jet will be there. Ezra arranged everything the moment he read the letter. He foolishly told the pilot he’d be rushing two passengers to the states to catch a ride to Florida, but I couldn’t ask Cat to witness my weakest moment.
The plans I’d begun to formulate disintegrate and fall through my fingers.
My mother has taken a turn, though not in the way anyone expected. She experienced a mild stroke yesterday morning. Despite quick action on the part of her very expensive medical team, her symptoms only worsened, and a second stroke occurred. My mother isn’t expected to recover. They don’t even believe she’ll wake up.
The letter says I’ll be lucky to arrive before she expires.
Expires. What is she, a carton of fucking milk?
I crumple the paper and toss it to the floorboard as if I can make this someone else’s problem. Maybe I can pretend this is anyone’s life but mine.
The limo hits a patch of ice, and the car’s tail wobbles to the left. I sit back as the driver regains control, but I buckle my seat belt. If we get in a wreck and I die, I won’t have a chance to apologize to Cat for leaving without so much as a word her way. She has a heart of gold and won’t hold any of this against me, but I still feel like an ass for taking off. But she’s trying to work things out with her friend, and I didn’t want to interrupt their important conversation.
I also didn’t have time to wait around. For all I know, none of these worries even matter. Kindra is probably busy convincing her to end things with me, and Cat may not be someone I’m permitted to worry about much longer.
Even if that’s the case, I’ll still worry about her. I’ll love her from a distance if I have to.
Love . . .
I lean forward, as far as the seat belt allows. “Hey, have you ever been in love?”
The driver looks at me in the rearview mirror, eyebrows raised to his hairline. “Love? Well, yeah. I’m married, ain’t I?” He raises his left hand, revealing an aged gold band, scuffed with time.
“How did you know you loved her?”
The man shrugs. “Fuck, I dunno. She said she loved me. I said it back. We’ve been saying it for twenty years now.”
“That doesn’t tell me a fucking thing.” I flop back.
“I don’t know what you were expecting, buddy. I got no sage advice. You either love somebody or you don’t.” He shrugs again. “Why does it always gotta be some big production? You need fireworks? Explosions?”
He lets out a laugh that claws against my psyche.
But as I mull over his words, I’m forced to acknowledge how right he is. Maybe love isn’t what romantics paint it to be. Maybe it’s just a choice you make one day, and then you keep making that choice for every day after. Maybe it’s really that simple.
And maybe I love Cat.
“Fuck.” I slam my fist against the leather seat. “Turn the car around. I forgot something.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Because if you don’t even know if you love the girl?—”
“I’m sure. I love her. Now turn around or I’ll slit your fucking throat!”
His eyes widen, his mouth closes, and he brings the limo to a stop before initiating a twenty-point turn.
If loving someone means choosing to love someone, then I choose to love her, but if I want that same love in return, I have to give her the choice. To love me, even when I’m not strong. To love me, even when I’m unemployed. To love me, even when I’m me.
And if I’m choosing to love her for the rest of my life, I want her to meet my mother at least once.
I check my watch. It’s been over a half hour since Ezra slid that letter into my hand. Cat probably knows I’ve left by now, but she’ll have to settle for an apology on the drive to the airport. We don’t have time for anything else.
I lean forward once more to urge the driver to step on it. That’s when a massive shadow steps onto the road, and everything goes dark.