30. Owen
CHAPTER THIRTY
Owen
“Owen,” Liv says with a surprising amount of venom as she reaches her frail hand toward me. I turn to look at her but don’t move from my spot on the couch.
She’s propped up on the hospital bed that has taken the place of the love seat my parents used to have in their living room.
“Owen,” she almost growls, “get your ass over here.”
With a grunt I stand, walking across the room until I’m standing beside her. She grabs my hand, pulling me to sit beside her.
Her hand feels far too small in mine. I keep my hold on her gentle because I don’t want to hurt her more than the fucking plague that’s destroying her from the inside out already is.
“I know you aren’t going to want to hear this, so I’m just going to say it,” she says.
Oh, my sister. Always the blunt one in the family.
I don’t know what she’s about to say, but I’m sure she’s right. I’m not going to like it.
“You have to keep living.” She pauses for a second before continuing. “I’ve seen you shutting down over the last few months. Please don’t do that. I want you to live. To be happy.”
My eyes close because I can’t look at her anymore when she’s saying all of this. How can I be happy when she won’t be here anymore?
“I know you’re thinking it isn’t possible, but I promise you, Owen. It is.” She squeezes my hand with more force than I would have thought her capable of. “I can only imagine how I would feel if our roles were reversed.”
Her eyes grow glossy. “You’d want me to be happy, though, if something ever happened to you. Right?”
I open my eyes again. “Of course,” I say without any hesitation.
She tilts her head, giving me a knowing look.
I know. I know.
“I don’t know what it is that will show you that life goes on. Maybe it will be something big or something small. A person you meet. Maybe someone you fall in love with,” she says with a sad smile. “Whoever or whatever it is that breathes life back into you, hold onto it. Okay?”
An image of Avery flashes through my mind. My time with her was a mere blip in the projection of my life, but it felt far more significant than that. But it’s done, in the past.
“Okay,” I say, trying to give Liv the best smile I can muster. Smiling takes more energy than I seem to possess lately, but for her I do my best.
She looks at me like she doesn’t fully believe me. I don’t really believe myself.
“I want to be selfish and tell you to do it for me, but you need to do it for you, Owen. You need to live for you,” she says. “You bet your ass I’ll be watching from Heaven or wherever the hell I am.”
This makes me laugh because as sick as she is and as numbered as these moments are, Liv is still her usually sassy self.
She’s still the most special person in my life. She’s the person who knows me better than anyone ever has, probably ever will.
Adjusting some of her pillows, she scootches to the far side of her bed. “Come here,” she says, patting the spot beside her.
I look from the small spot beside her and down to my large frame. “Liv,” I say, shaking my head.
“Now,” she growls, for real this time.
“Fine,” I grumble, kicking my boots off and gently laying down beside her.
“You aren’t going to break me,” she groans, offended that I’m treating her delicately. That’s something she’s always hated, and it’s only gotten worse since she’s been sick.
I don’t tell her that I could very easily break her. I’m not looking to get punched in the shoulder or make her cry. It could go either way right now.
She grabs the remote from the table beside her. “Sandlot?” she asks, turning to look at me with a smile.
“Yeah,” I say with a genuine smile. This was our favorite movie growing up. We’ve watched it countless times, and as she lays her head on my shoulder, I just know this will be the last time.
I blink my eyes open, realizing I’m not in a hospital bed next to my sister. I’m in my own bed, staring at the ceiling.
The bed moves slightly.
I turn my head to see Avery perched on the edge of the bed. She’s looking at me with a softness I’ve grown to know she possesses in spades. She might have a tough exterior, but she cares so deeply.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Hey.”
“I can leave if you want me to, but I didn’t want you to be alone.”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
She nods. “I can listen, or I can just be here.”
“Come here,” I say, holding my arm out beside me.
Without another word, she crawls up onto the bed, snuggling into my side. Her arm wraps around me, like she’s trying to hold me together by her strength alone.
We’re quiet for a long time, but then the words start to flow.
I talk about Liv. I talk about missing her. I talk about the pain. I talk about the good memories. I talk about the bad ones.
Once the words start pouring out of me, I can’t seem to make them stop. It’s like a dam has burst, and everything I’ve held in for years is free now.
As painful as it is to talk about, it’s cathartic to have someone else know what I’m thinking. What I’m feeling.
We laugh. We cry. I cling to her like she’s my lifeline. Her hold on me never wavers.
The words finally slow to a trickle, and I drag in what feels like the first deep breath I’ve taken in far too long.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
“For what, angel?” I ask, running my hand over her hair.
“For trusting me with all of that.”
I do trust her. My lips press a kiss to the top of her head. “Want to watch a movie with me?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says, tilting her head up to look at me.
“ Sandlot ?”
She gives me a sad smile, now understanding what that movie means to me.
So, with Avery snuggled in my side, I watch my favorite movie for the first time since that day I had another feisty woman laying beside me. It hurts, but it’s also freeing in a way I never would have anticipated.
I know Liv is looking down on me because yes, she’s in Heaven. She might have cussed like a sailor and was sassy as hell, but she’s not in Hell like she always joked about.
A sliver of that twin connection still must exist because I can feel Liv smiling at me. I finally feel like maybe I can live the way she wanted me to.
I glance down at Avery, whose head is resting on my chest. Maybe she’s what I’m supposed to hold onto.
She’s breathed life back into the shell I was before she breezed back into my life.