Chapter Seventy-Nine
Phoenix
I found him half a klick past the front porch.
Shoulders hunched, turned into the wind, he stared toward the dark ocean.
Fucking thankful he had his jacket on, I hit his six with a warning. “Hey.” Then I flanked him and apologized. “I’m sorry.”
Not looking at me, his throat bobbed with a swallow.
I told him everything I got out of her. “She’s in remission.
Treatment took three years. She’s supposed to get annual checkups.
Side effects and long-term prognoses vary.
” I added bullshit I wasn’t sure was wishful thinking or just a consolidation of bullet points from what she’d told me. “Hers seems to be good.”
“Is she going to die?”
I knew this was what he was going to ask.
I saw it on his face. Living with him for the past two weeks, two months of texted videos before that, I may not have technically known my son long, but I did know his expressions.
And fuck, I wanted to protect him from this, but I couldn’t change the most basic circumstance of life.
It ended. A fact he was already painfully, acutely aware of. “We all die at some point, Lincoln.”
It was the wrong goddamn thing to say.
He took off.
Head down, fast paced, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, he fucking aimed.
I followed.
Ten paces in, he pivoted and yelled over the wind. “Stop following me!”
“No.” No fucking way. I wasn’t going to let him be alone right now. Leaving Isla crying was one thing. Abandoning Linc to process this on his own was entirely different.
“I’m not a kid! I don’t need you!”
“I need you.” I needed to make every damn thing in his life right, but I’d fucked up. Like I was fucking up now.
His eyes welled. “No, you don’t.”
Yes, I fucking did. “You think I don’t need the best damn thing that ever happened to me?
You think I don’t need to know you’re safe?
That I don’t need to see you grow into a man, make your music, see you thrive, see you happy?
” I needed all of that like I needed air.
But I needed something a hell of a lot stronger for the gaping wound in my chest. “You think I don’t need to make amends for what happened to you? ”
“Nothing happened to me.” Anger and grief coated his cheeks. “Mom died. Not me.” He slammed his fist against his chest and fought to suck in a stilted breath. “I watched her die, and I didn’t stop it.” He choked on a sob. “I didn’t help her.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” I reached for him.
He stepped back. “Yes, it was. I knew something was wrong. She got sick. She couldn’t even get out of bed, but I didn’t call for a doctor. I didn’t make her go to the hospital when I should’ve. I could’ve done more. I should’ve saved her.” He hit his chest again. “I should’ve saved her.”
I grabbed my son.
“I don’t need you!” His fists slammed into my ribs, then his voice broke. “I don’t need her.”
“I know, Lincoln.” I held him with everything I fucking had.