Chapter 6 Lucille #2
I sat there, watching as Forsythe climbed to his feet, wiping his forehead.
He was covered in dirt and his shirt was soaked in sweat from how hard he and Wimberly had been playing.
The white t-shirt clung to every inch of his torso, sticking to him like a second skin.
I could see little strokes and details of what appeared to be tattoos all over his chiseled chest and arms. There was no way he was forty-five… not with a body like that.
What the hell? Why are you even thinking such a thing?
I tried to compose myself, but as soon as Forsythe turned around, I nearly choked on my sweet tea. The sweat soaked shirt revealed a giant back tattoo, one that literally covered every inch of his skin. And seeing it made my thighs tighten.
Seeing him now, I’m glad he wasn’t adopted. Because I can’t imagine having Forsythe as my brother…especially now.
“Knock knock!” The hospital door silently swung open, and I peeked my head inside.
Boone’s entire face lit up. “Loulou!” He groaned while attempting to adjust his posture to greet me. “I didn’t know you were coming by today. Hey, nice pj’s.” He chuckled and pointed to my pajama pants.
“Keep it up and I’ll have to tell the nurse about this!” I raised my arm to reveal a small care package from our mom.
Boone’s eyes widened in excitement at the sight of it. “Is that—”
I nodded. “Mhm. Mom’s famous peach cobbler. Complete with…” I raised my other arm. “Homemade cinnamon and vanilla ice cream.” I grinned at my brother clapping his hands together like a little kid. “Uh-uh. You only get these if you promise to be nice.”
He laughed. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave. Now gimme.” He reached out.
I giggled to myself and sat the goodies down, making him a single serving. “You know how hard it was trying to sneak these in? I had to stuff them in my hoodie.”
Boone chuckled. “You’d think someone wearing a hoodie in this heat would be suspicious.”
“Meh, I’m sure the nurses know what’s up and just pretend not to.
Here.” I carried a small plate of the cobbler with ice cream over to his bedside.
His dark eyes sparkled as he dug the plastic fork into the warm, flaky crust. Boone wasted no time devouring his dessert.
He even licked the little crumbs of crust from the plate with a cheerful smile.
My brother sucked on the fork while eyeing me closely. “So, I guess you heard.”
I knew the cobbler was a dead give away.
After spending the morning with mom, talking about, well, everything—she asked me to come visit Boone. Alone.
With a heavy sigh, I plopped down in the reclining chair.
“I hear you stopped going to therapy.” I didn’t even look at my brother, already on edge and anxious for having to be the one to do this.
Mom thought he’d ignore whatever she had to say, same as the doctors, but she hoped he’d at least hear me out.
My brother pulled the plastic fork from his mouth and stared at it. “There’s no reason for me to keep going.” He dropped it onto the empty plate. “I’m fine.” He tried to look at me with a forced smile, but I knew he was just wearing a mask.
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying,” he hissed. “I’m just…I don’t want to spend my days sitting here, talking to someone as if I’ve experienced some major trauma!” He blinked, relaxing a little with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry—”
I picked at my pants, cutting him off with my words. “But you did experience trauma. Your accident with Reaper wasn’t just some little accident, Boone. You nearly died.”
“But I didn’t,” he scoffed.
I smirked. “You’re right, you didn’t. But just because you survived, doesn’t mean everything is okay. You suffered physically, yes, but you also suffered mentally.”
Boone tisked. “I’m mentally fine, Loulou.”
“Are you?” My head tilted with my question. “You spent your whole life trying to be like dad. The next Memphis Limmerick. And now, you’re stuck in a hospital bed and might never ride a bull again.” I paused. “It’s okay to not be okay, you know.”
Boone sat there and stared down at his empty plate. “Did you get therapy…after Dad?” His eyes raised to meet mine, filled with a plethora of emotions.
“I did.”
He bit his lower lip. “And did it help?”
Anxiety filled the back of my throat and I felt this wave of emotion climb to the surface.
I had to swallow it back just to speak. “Yes and no. There are things I struggle with that even therapy can’t fix, no matter how often I go and speak about them.
But that doesn’t mean therapy can’t be useful in your healing.
” I stared down at my wrist, feeling along the old scars.
“I used to shit on therapy too, you know. I mocked it and looked down on it like it was nothing more than a joke made to line some doctor’s pockets.
I didn’t think I needed it either.” I took a deep breath, knowing that talking so openly about my struggles would be hard and potentially triggering.
But Boone needed to hear this. He needed to know the truth, especially if it meant the truth of my struggles could help him heal.
Deep breath.
“You know I’ve always had a hard time…fitting in.
” He nodded. “Not just in school or around town, but at home. Being adopted, I struggled with feeling like I really had a place in this world.” I stared at my wrist as my fingers curled around it.
“My own mother was a drug addict who didn’t want me so—” Tears began to flood my eyes. “Why would anyone else?”
Keep it together.
“I mean, I didn’t doubt our parents’ love.
But no matter how much they would say it, how many times they showed up and tried to save me…
I just—I just always felt this cold, overwhelming weight all over me.
” My hands began to tremble. “It’s like nothing can change my mind or convince me that I’m worth loving.
And back then, instead of fighting that voice in my head and believing what I saw before me, I just listened to it.
” My eyes rose to meet Boone’s, noticing his too were filled with tears.
It made my heart ache to see him that way.
Fuck, keep it together. You can do this.
“I always envied how easily you blended into life at home. You never questioned where you came from, who your parents were, and you just fit into life at Bone Ridge so perfectly. It was like you were meant to be there. And no matter how hard I tried, I never felt that way myself.” I wiped my eyes before the tears could trail down my cheeks.
“Hell, even Forsythe fit in better than I did.” I chuckled lightly and Boone mimicked my laughs as tears flowed down his face. “I was such a mess back then.”
He rubbed his eyes and tried to dry his face. “Is that why you left?”
My whole body went rigid at the question. I knew there was a chance he’d ask, but no matter how many times I played the scenario in my head, nothing prepared me for the moment it actually happened.
“No,” I whispered. I picked at my fingers in my lap. “I left because I thought it was the only way to escape how I felt. But no matter how hard you try, or how far you go, you can’t outrun the ghosts of your past.”
Those ghosts will forever shadow you, always reminding you of the very thing you tried to escape. And nothing can mute those memories.
His voice was soft as he spoke. “I always wondered where you ran off to…why you never came back. Hell, I thought you were mad at me at one point.” He noticed my reaction and smiled.
“Don’t worry, I figured it out. But as a kid, could you blame me?
Sure, Mom tried to shield me from it all, but I’d hear her talking to Cooper or Dallas discussing your rehab stays or hospital visits.
I remember one time, she was so worried that you were going to be found dead in an alley…
but then, things seemed to get better. Mom began to tell me things, like when you began to go to therapy on your own, or you finally nailed down a solid job.
She was so happy. We both were. And that’s when I realized that it had nothing to do with me.
You leaving was something you had to do. ”
Tears rolled down my cheeks. “I almost didn’t make it though…
” I stood and approached his bedside, carefully taking his hand into mine.
“I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.
” I gently kissed the top of his head. “I was just so lost…for so long.” I slowly crumbled down to my knees and rested my head onto our clasped hands.
My brother placed his other hand on the back of my head.
“I’m sorry life hasn’t been the kindest to you, Lucille.
And I’m sorry you’re haunted by those ghosts, forever following in your shadow.
But maybe, if you let someone shed even the faintest bit of light on you, you’d finally learn to breathe and live in the present.
” He reached around and lifted my face, staring into my reddened, tear-filled eyes.
“I’ll talk to the doctors and resume my therapy.
” His thumb wiped the tears from my cheek. “I’ll try, Loulou. I promise.”
I nearly fell apart. “Thank you, Boone.”