Chapter 4
ABEL
The drive to Laneridge Health Care Center seems to take longer than usual as I stare out the window and into the overcast sky. The clouds are dark and full of depth as they morph across the sky, rolling and moving as I do, following me to the center.
I adjust my earbuds in my ears, keeping the volume up as I try not to focus on the way the driver maneuvers between cars on the interstate.
Closing my eyes briefly, I picture a vast nothingness.
Just a serene scene of blackness, but of course, I’ve never been so lucky.
Flashes of his face flutter through my mind’s eye.
The dark waves of his hair, his golden-green eyes, and the way his pupils would dilate in hunger, in anger, just for me.
His body and each sinewy muscle not-so-hidden beneath tight-fitting clothes.
The way his long fingers would grip a basketball, the length of them curled around the leather with veins bulging so enticingly, I would vibrate with the desire to sink my teeth straight into them.
To mark him with the shape of my crooked teeth.
“Fuck,” I mutter to myself, cranking the volume on the Deftones song as I drop my head back against the headrest, eyes rolling into the back of my head, clouds disappearing for a moment.
“Everything all right back there?”
“Yes, thank you,” I mumble, scrubbing my hand down my face in exasperation. Everything is so far from “all right,” it’s not even funny. I can usually keep Peris from the forefront of my mind easily enough. All I have to do is focus on what’s in front of me.
My clients, my apartment, my friends. But sometimes… most of the time… even that’s not enough to keep him from me.
Not when I flip on the news and the sports section comes on and there he is—his angry face front and center and better than even my memory can conjure.
And it aches…
But it’s a different kind of ache. Something akin to regret and shame.
Because he’s grown up.
No longer does Peris have that boyish curve to his face. His jawline is sharp enough to cut glass, jutting out from his face as he sneers at the camera like it personally offended him—and I’m sure it did.
His hair is longer, waiver, but he keeps it pushed back from his face, highlighting the tanned state of his skin, like he spends all of his time outside in the sun. And his nose… long and straight and perfect with a gold fucking hoop in one nostril like that doesn’t completely fuck me up.
Peris Baxter got a piercing. In his face. And it looks incredible on him. The gold jewelry brings out the golden hue of his irises—I wonder if Gabriel told him he should go for gold over silver… most people tend to choose silver, it seems. Or maybe not.
Fuck if I know.
Either way, he’s… different. He’s in university, playing basketball like he always dreamed of. He looks better than ever, and he’s so far away but way too close to ever be near me again because I left him.
I left him.
And I know he doesn’t give a fuck that I didn’t have a choice. He’s too selfish to see there wasn’t one, and I’m too selfish to give it to him.
It’s too late to ever go back. Too much has happened.
Bitterness and hatred has accumulated over our year apart, and as much as I think of him, I’m not the same boy, and he’s sure as hell not, either.
“We’ve arrived,” the driver states, yanking me out of my tumultuous thoughts. I jolt in my seat, yanking my head away from the window and toward the front to where the building’s front doors lie.
A sense of foreboding washes over me for the first time in a long time, and it’s quickly swamped by guilt because she doesn’t deserve that.
With a deep breath, I thank the driver and get out, preparing myself for the day ahead. It’s going to be good.
I’ll make sure it’s good—for her.
“Good morning, Abel. Good to see you.”
“Morning, Meredith,” I say in greeting, nodding my head.
“She’s in the rec room. She wanted to play Uno,” Meredith says with a brow raised, and I groan loudly and playfully.
“Oh boy, she’s feeling adventurous today, isn’t she?”
“Definitely.” She laughs lightly with a small shake to her head. “She woke up in a good mood. I think today’s going to be a good day.”
I smile gently at her, my face cracking into one of genuine happiness for the first time in a while. “You know, I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Well, have fun getting your butt kicked!” she says as I start toward the rec room, and I laugh joyfully on the way, already feeling a bit lighter at the prospect of seeing her.
It’s only been two days because of the way my client schedule lined up, but I don’t like going more than a few days between visits.
She needs someone to see her as often as possible, and I’m that person for her.
When I walk into the room and catch sight of her in her usual spot, dark, curly hair tied in a bright, silk scarf—today it’s covered in purple butterflies—my face cracks into a smile so wide, my cheeks begin to ache.
“Good morning, Mo.”
“Abel!” she squeals, face breaking into a bright smile, and my heart aches for her. For everything I couldn’t protect her from. Because this is her life now, and I couldn’t save her like I promised.
But I can give her everything she needs and do all I can to keep her as happy as she can be.
“Meredith was telling me you’re in the mood for Uno today,” I say as I take a seat across from her at her favorite table.
There’s nothing special about it, but you can see the sunrise perfectly from where she sits across from the large window in front of her—which is exactly what she’s doing right now.
The sun’s rays catch on her dark skin, making her glow as she smirks crookedly. “I always wanna play Uno,” she says as she clumsily pushes the cards toward me to shuffle.
I chuckle as I swipe them up to do just that. “Too true.”
“Coffee?” Margaret asks as she walks up to us, silently checking on Mo as I deal us the cards.
“Oh, that would be amazing, thank you.”
“Me, too!” Mo says, and I lift a brow, lips curling inward with a wince because I know Margaret has to tell her no, and that usually doesn’t go well.
Distraction works better.
“Mo, it’s your turn to go,” I tell her, gesturing to the pile in front of her. Her eyes shift from Margaret and the carafe in her hand to her cards, which she assembles to play her first card.
“Thank you,” Margaret mouths, and I smile at her with a nod and look back down at my cards, sipping my bitter black coffee with a wince as Mo and I play hand after hand of Uno, her beating me almost every single time.
“Well, Mo, you’ve kicked my ass again,” I say in defeat as I drop my cards into the discard pile yet again. She giggles and tucks her cheek against her shoulder, her smile bright and lively, and even though this is her life… she’s alive.
She survived.
We both did.
And it may not look how we pictured it, but we’re here now and… well. We’re here, and we’ve gotta take the cards we were dealt—pun intended.
“So, what else do you want to do today?” I ask her as the room starts to fill with the other residents. “Wanna go for a walk? It was pretty nice on my way in—a bit chilly, so you’ll need your jacket.”
“Yeah,” she says, and I nod with a smile.
“Awesome. Let me put these away real quick.” Afterward, I grab her chair and start pushing her toward her room. She’s quiet on the walk, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Morana and I are used to existing in comfortable silence.
After helping her into her jacket, I start toward the back doors that lead to the back area and trails that wind around the large expanse of land.
Trees line the entire property, so leaves are strewn about as I push Mo down the concrete trail, breathing in the crisp, autumn air.
She seems to do the same, smiling contentedly.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” I tell her as we walk slowly together, just enjoying the weather and the fresh air.
“Yes. I love the leaves,” she says, so I reach down and pick a few up, making sure to grab a couple of different colors for her.
She grabs them with a smile so wide, my chest aches, and I smile back as I continue on our walk while listening to the sound of her crunching the leaves in her hands, little bits floating in the air and probably getting stuck in my hair.
By the time we make it to the fountain across the lawn, her leaves have been disintegrated, and my fingers are a bit chilly.
I turn Mo’s wheelchair to face outward and take a seat on the stone, so we can both stare out at the grounds.
We take in the quiet movement of the few others out and about, but it’s mostly quiet.
“How are you doing today, Mo?”
“I’m tired.”
“How have you been sleeping?”
“Fine.”
“Mo—”
“Just tired, Abel. I don’t want to talk ‘bout it.” She sighs loudly, her voice heavy.
I frown at her, brows furrowed in concern, but I drop it anyway. “Okay.” But I don’t take my eyes off the side of her face as she looks outward.
Maybe her depression is creeping back in… I thought we were getting a handle on it, but maybe not.
“Well, nothing exciting has been happening for me,” I say, trying to change the direction of the conversation. “Just the same ol’ shit.”
“Shit?”
“Stuff. The same stuff as always,” I correct myself quickly at her confusion.
“Oh.”
“What did you do yesterday? I’m sorry I wasn’t able to visit. Work kept me late.”
Her brows furrow, and she reaches up to scratch under her scarf. I can sense her frustration the longer she thinks about it.
“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter.”
“I don’t remember.” She grips her hair.
“It’s okay, Mo,” I try to say, but it happens before I realize. She screeches and yanks her scarf off her head. It flutters to the ground, and I reach down to grab it, but it whips away in the breeze. Biting back a groan, I lean forward to talk to Mo.